#since i draw in the evenings and usually finish them around midnight if its a big piece

[writing-wyvern]

Hard to Explain, Hard to Understand

ShigaDestro Whump Oneshot

Ao3 link below.

So, I wanted to write some drama, and decided I was gonna write whump to do it. I love winter based whump, so when I found a whump Bingo that featured the prompt “Falling Through the Ice”, I decided to shoot my shot. I thought this was going to end up being a lot shorter than it turned out, but what can you do? I mean, the set-up section of the story is around 3000 words by itself, so sorry in advance.

I want to give thanks to the lovely FungusFangs on Twitter for introducing me to ShigaDestro! I love this pairing so much, and if you’re also interested in DabiSkeptic (like I am), I’d highly suggest you check out her art! I’d like to give you all some discretion though: the focus of her art is emeto and stuffing kink, so please be aware of that going in.

This will be cross-posted on my Ao3 (writing_wyvern) but not on my Twitter (@writing_wyvern), due to this being a full-length story. If you liked the fic here, I would highly suggest you go over to my other social media pages and give those some attention there, too! There will occasionally be content exclusive to my other pages, especially my Twitter, due to the way Twitter is formatted in comparison to Tumblr and Ao3.

I would like to give trigger warnings (TWs) for mentions of needles/IVs, mentions of death and death by drowning, hypothermia, couple arguing, mentions of transphobia and explicitly written transphobic words, implications of child abuse, mentions of suicide, depictions of a suicide attempt, and running away. If any of these topics bother you, please leave instead of leaving a hate comment or something. Hate comments are not productive, and no one’s happy either leaving them or reading them. They’ll just get deleted anyway, so don’t even bother.

With all of that said, on with the show!

It was the middle of the night when he realized Shigaraki wasn’t there.

Normally, he wouldn’t have thought anything of it; occasionally, Shigaraki would disappear in the middle of the night, maybe to grab a drink and a snack or maybe to go to the main room in order to play one of his video games so he wouldn’t wake up from the sound of the television playing loud 8-bit music or action sound effects. But on this particular night, Yotsubashi decided to surprise Shigaraki by getting up and coming to see him instead of sleeping away like he normally did. So with that, he got up, put on his fuzzy slippers, and made his way out of their bedroom.

On his way to the kitchen was the main room, and when he passed through it, there was no sign of Shigaraki. The lights and the television were both off, the controllers were still neatly put away in the cabinet of the entertainment center, and the couch didn’t even have any sort of indentation in it from where Shigaraki would have been sitting. His only conclusion to draw was that Shigaraki was in the kitchen, getting a drink and making himself a snack. (He couldn’t have been in there for long, then; usually, he fixed himself quick snacks or even just grabbed pre-made ones like chips or cup ramen.)

However, when he arrived, he found that the room seemingly hadn’t been touched since dinner was cooked last night—the pans were still hanging clean, the dishwasher was showing a display light indicating that it had finished its washing cycle and had never been opened, and lights had never been turned on to begin with. This may have been mundane to anyone outside looking in, but to Yotsubashi, it only meant one thing: Tomura Shigaraki was no longer inside the villa. And adding that to the fact that it was just two hours past midnight, still completely dark outside, and the temperature was several degrees below zero with snow and ice everywhere, he immediately became worried.

From there, it wasn’t long until everyone in the villa was awake. Everyone took a floor and began to look through every single room, whether it was occupied or not. Shigaraki was not in the kitchen, his bedroom, the main room, the assembly hall, the conference room, any of the unoccupied rooms in the villa, or even in the courtyard outside. And that was where another problem arose. As far as anyone in the Paranormal Liberation Front knew, Shigaraki did not have the ability to drive. Everywhere he went, he was escorted by someone else, whether it be another member of the Front who was able to do so or a hired chauffeur. Thankfully, none of the escort vehicles were missing from the villa’s parking lot… but that meant Shigaraki was probably walking outside in snow that was a third of a meter deep (with more incoming), and Yotsubashi doubted he had a jacket on at all. Shigaraki nearly always wore long sleeved clothing, and would always, without fail, tell Yotsubashi that his thin long sleeved shirt was enough to keep him safe from temperatures far below zero degrees.

(It was sometimes funny, sometimes not. Sometimes, he would actually beg for Yotsubashi’s jacket, and he would begrudgingly hand it over for the walk to the car, and then let Shigaraki sit in the seat directly in front of the heater to help him warm up for the drive back to the villa. Those were the rather funny occasions. And then, in the less amusing times, he would internally bring himself to tears—but never actually let them spill over onto his cheeks—as he silently glared at Yotsubashi, because Shigaraki never wanted to admit when the older man was right. And then they would get outside to their escort vehicle, and Shigaraki would either continue to sit in silence or blow up at Yotsubashi. Either way, it would certainly end with them going to their shared bedroom when they got back to the villa, and Yotsubashi would wrap Shigaraki in blankets and put on a movie for him to watch as they warmed up. It was much more tender than amusing, but Yotsubashi couldn’t help himself from smiling every time it happened.)

Now, Yotsubashi was on a mission. He and Hanabata both put on their coats and scarves, rushing out to an escort vehicle. Hanabata climbed into the driver’s seat and began to circle around the villa and go down nearby streets, all while Yotsubashi stuck his head out the window and called for the Grand Commander by name. He started out by screaming “Shigaraki”, but as time went on, and finding him seemed to become more and more difficult, Yotsubashi became desperate, and switched over to his given name, screaming “Tomura” up and down the streets. At this point, time was of the essence—if they didn’t find Shigaraki soon, there was a very good possibly he was going to be freezing to death out in the snow. And after a while, Hanabata parked, much to Yotsubashi’s- well, dismay was not a strong enough word to describe it. In layman’s terms, Yotsubashi was rather pissed off, and the moment he felt the car shakes slightly from being shifted into park, he turned his head to glare at Hanabata, who was still staring straight ahead and looking through the windshield.

“What are you doing?! We have to look for him!” Yotsubashi shouted, balling his hands into fists at his sides. He really didn’t want to get rid of Hanabata… but this was Shigaraki’s life possible being on the line here, and Yotsubashi didn’t want to risk him. In this moment (and generally, in most moments), Shigaraki’s life was more important to Yotsubashi than Hanabata’s.

Hanabata finally turned his head, now switching his gaze to Yotsubashi. there was a slight glare against his glasses from a nearby streetlight shining through the car windows, but he was still able to see Hanabata’s expression—he was being completely serious. There was no friendliness in his eyes, and there was no smile across his face. Apparently, this was important to Hanabata, too… although probably not to the same degree. Without a single word coming out of Hanabata’s mouth, he turned his head to face the other direction, opened up the car door, and stepped out into the cold open, walking around to the other side of the car and walking across the street to the other sidewalk. He then stood there, staring across at the car and hoping Yotsubashi understood what he wanted to happen.

And he did.

Yotsubashi also stepped out of the car, closing the door behind him and rushing across the street to meet Hanabata on the other side. Once they met up on the other side of the road, Hanabata began to stroll down without any words ever slipping out from between his lips, guiding Yotsubashi down the sidewalk and past a tall black metal fence that was to their right. Eventually, Yotsubashi was able to follow Hanabata around a corner, and was brought to the entrance of the park that was behind the fence, which had tall hedges grown around the inside of the park to block it from view from the outside. (The structure confused Yotsubashi, but he couldn’t really do anything about it—he didn’t own the park, after all.) During wintertime, like it was at this moment, the pond in the middle of the park was usually frozen over due to the weather, and many would use it to ice skate. However, the absolutely shocking sight that greeted both Yotsubashi and Hanabata when they approached the entrance to the park was a large hole in the middle of the pond.

“I saw this on about our fourth circling around the block,” Hanabata explained, gesturing to the broken ice over the pond water. “I got worried, and I figured it was best to check it out.”

Without even so much as a second thought, Yotsubashi ran into the park, throwing his coat and scarf off behind him, taking off his pajama top so as not to get it wet (as neither he nor Hanabata had opted to change into proper clothes before going to look for Shigaraki—after all, time was of the essence), and shoved his hand into the gaping hole in the ice. Thankfully, the pond was rather shallow, and within mere seconds, his hand was able to grasp onto… cloth. Not a stray jacket or scarf that had possibly been thrown into the lake for whatever reason, because Yotsubashi could tell there was pressure underneath the cloth he had grabbed onto. There was someone attached to the cloth he had just grabbed. And hopefully (or maybe… dishearteningly), the person wearing the clothes he was grabbing onto was Shigaraki.

He began to panic, desperately trying to save the person beneath. Well- trying to save Shigaraki. There was no one else it could be. He never saw a report about someone drowning at the bottom of this pond, his phone never rang with a J-Alert telling him about a missing person or child in the area, and he hadn’t even seen signs nearby that were warning park attendees about the ice in the pond being broken. This ice had been broken overnight. Shigaraki was the only person missing from their area. Shigaraki was most definitely the person at the bottom of the pond, and Shigaraki had to be saved. Yotsubashi was going to save him.

He shoved his other arm in there, gripping onto the cloth with both hands and pulling up with all his might. Normally, he would have been able to lift Shigaraki (he did it all the time, after all), but he was under the water, and was most likely unconscious. He was going to be hard to lift, and somehow, even Yotsubashi was struggling to pull Shigaraki up to the surface. He really didn’t want to strip himself down to absolutely nothing in the freezing cold and dive into the even colder water to save him. Call him selfish, but at the same time, Yotsubashi couldn’t risk also bringing himself into paralyzing temperatures and causing himself to struggle in the effort of saving Shigaraki.

Suddenly, as he was pulling, he felt Hanabata rub up against him, also shirtless and shoving his arms down into the rather large opening of the pond that Shigaraki had seemingly broken when he fell in. Together, they gripped onto Shigaraki’s clothes and pulled up, somehow managing to pul him up through the water enough to move their hands from just gripping onto his clothes to be gripping onto his actual limbs. He was turned over onto his back now, and Hanabata was able to shift himself to be on the opposite side of the pond without ever letting go of Shigaraki’s sweater. eventually, Yotsubashi was gripping around Shigaraki’s ankle, and Hanabata was gripping onto Shigaraki’s forearm. And eventually, after what was probably, realistically five minutes—but felt like a lifetime to Yotsubashi, they were able to bring him out of the water and up onto the surface, laying Shigaraki’s practically lifeless body into the snow.

There was no blood. Thank god, there was no blood.

Yotsubashi was just sitting there in shock, staring down at Shigaraki. Before he knew it, however, he had sprung back to life, with Hanabata having sprung into action while Yotsubashi stupidly sat there and did absolutely nothing. Hanabata was doing chest compressions on Shigaraki, desperately trying to keep his heart from going out. Yotsubashi panicked and rushed over to Shigaraki, deciding to use his own hands to press on Shigaraki’s stomach in an attempt to get water out of his lungs. Thankfully, he could hear Hanabata let out a sound of surprise as a result of water shooting out of Shigaraki’s mouth and nose, indicating that whatever Yotsubashi was doing, it was working.

After a moment, Hanabata finally spoke, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “We need to undress him to keep him from going into shock, then bring him back to the car and warm him up on our way back to the villa. Then we’re going to bring him inside and try to warm him up further while we wait for a medic to come by and make sure he’s not going to be seriously hurt from this. Hopefully, we can find out how he ended up out here when he comes to…”

Yotsubashi didn’t need to hear another word. He grabbed onto Shigaraki’s sweater, pulling it up over the younger man’s head and tearing it off of his body. As he placed a hand on Shigaraki’s chest in order to find a heartbeat, Yotsubashi only found himself frowning more and more—his skin was ice cold from being submerged in frozen-over water, and he found himself somehow needing to help Shigaraki even more than he had been trying to before. He tore off the boy’s shoes, socks, and pants, leaving the poor boy laying in the snow in nothing but a chest binder and boxers. Oh, he really hated to do this, but Yotsubashi took Shigaraki’s chest binder off of him, immediately throwing his own jacket overtop of Shigaraki’s body so Hanabata didn’t see the younger boy’s now exposed breasts.

“Hanabata, don’t look over this way until I tell you that you can look,” Yotsubashi commanded, and Hanabata obliged. Yotsubashi put his jacket on Shigaraki properly, pulling it over the boy’s arms and zipping it up in the front. His clothes were always big on Shigaraki’s thin and tiny body, and this jacket (that was normally a little baggy on Yotsubashi as it was) was no exception. Crisis averted. After Yotsubashi gave Hanabata the okay to look, they worked together to lift Shigaraki and lug him into the backseat of the car.

Yotsubashi sat in the backseat with him while Hanabata climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the heat onto the maximum settings. Shigaraki wasn’t even buckled in—Yotsubashi was holding the younger boy in his lap and keeping him close, hoping his body warmth would do something, anything to help warm him. He kept the boy’s head against his own chest, having one arm wrapped around him diagonally, wedged under Shigaraki’s right arm with his hand resting on Shigaraki’s left shoulder. Yotsubashi’s other arm was slung over his younger companion’s left side, his hand rubbing Shigaraki’s back in between the shoulder blades. He was praying that at some point during the car ride, Shigaraki would wake up… but he never did.

That wasn’t to say that he died in the lake, or even that he died on his way to the villa. No, Shigaraki never died at all, but had put himself into a coma of sorts as a result of plunging himself into the bottom of the pond. He warmed up somewhat just on the car ride to the villa, and warmed up fully after being placed inside his warm bedroom for a short while. He was left nude (aside from his boxers) in the bed, both a regular throw blanket and a heavy comforter on top of his thin body, and a space heater going in the room in addition to the central heating that went through the entire building.

It was only a little over an hour until a medic arrived from the nearest hospital, given that the nearest hospital in question was nearly 115 kilometers away from the villa. Even after that amount of time being spent out of the freezing cold water and in a warm environment, Shigaraki was still unresponsive, although he was clearly breathing and had an audible heartbeat. The medic was able to easily diagnose Shigaraki with moderate to severe hypothermia as a result of submersion in the cold pond, and decided to additionally treat him by hooking him up to an IV and sending warm fluids through his body. The medic left after giving Yotsubashi, Hanabata, and Chikazoku directions: change out Shigaraki’s fluid bag whenever it ran dry, and make sure he stayed as warm as possible. They were also left with the instructions to only let Shigaraki wake up on his own without any external intervention, and to call for an ambulance if he did not wake up after three days.

Shigaraki spent a decent amount of time in a comatose state as he recovered, and through it all, Yotsubashi made a promise that he would never leave his side. Hanabata would have to bring Yotsubashi his meals every morning, afternoon, and night, and would always grab his dirty dishes and take them to the kitchen, swapping the empty and dirty dishes with new plates that contained food. Of course, Yotsubashi was never happy to eat. He ate it all because he knew he needed to eat and that if Shigaraki were awake, he would get mad if Yotsubashi didn’t eat. But at the end of it all, he was sad. Sad that he couldn’t share his mealtimes with Shigaraki, sad that Shigaraki wouldn’t wake up, and sad that Shigaraki became sick in the first place all because he wasn’t awake to stop him from leaving the villa.

~***~

Chikazoku sighed, standing outside of Shigaraki’s room. He and Hanabata had cracked the door, and they were both peering into the room through the small opening. Of course, the sight that greeted them—and the only one that had done so over the few times they’d checked on those in the room over the past 12 hours—was Yotsubashi sitting to the right of Shigaraki’s bed in an uncomfortable looking wooden chair, holding onto the younger boy’s gloved hand. Yotsubashi honestly looked terribly depressed, and neither Chikazoku nor Hanabata doubted that he was blaming himself for the situation that Shigaraki had been found in. (Although it was rather unclear as to if he had a reason to be blaming himself, the point was that he very much was.)

Chikazoku turned to face Hanabata, turning the doorknob, pulling he door to, and letting go. He didn’t want to make too much noise and alert Yotsubashi to the fact that they were there. “So. What do you think? Will we have to call an ambulance?”

Hanabata cupped his fingers around his chin, looking up to the ceiling slightly in thought. Once he finally came up with his answer, he looked back down to be at eye level with Chikazoku, but decided not to move his hand away from his chin. “That’s a bit of a toss-up, you see. We don’t know how long he was gone from the villa in total. We don’t know how long he had been at the bottom of that pond we found him in. All we know is that he’s alive and currently comatose. So, simply… I’m not sure. He could wake up, or we could have to call for an ambulance to take him to the hospital for treatment.”

Chikazoku sighed and crossed him arms over his chest. “That’s true. Hopefully, he wakes up before the three day mark. If he were to be sent to the hospital, especially by ambulance, Yotsubashi’s mental health would definitely go into further decline. He seems to already be rather upset as it is. I haven’t seen him all day because he’s refused to come out of the pig sty that is Shigaraki’s bedroom.”

“Well, of course he’s upset,” Hanabata huffed out, moving his hands into the front pockets of his jacket. “Think about the circumstances that he’s in. He woke up, and within an hour, found out that if he had just gone back to bed, his lover would be dead at the bottom of a pond in a public park at this very moment. And we both know that, without any doubt in our minds, he blames himself for everything that has happened. So ask me this, Tomoyasu… why shouldn’t Yotsubashi be upset?”

Chikazoku tilted his head up and shifted his gaze down in order for Hanabata to be able to see him glaring slightly. “I’ll tell you why he shouldn’t be upset.” He lowered his head and faced his back to Hanabata, saying just a single sentence before walking down the hall and out of sight. “Because he had nothing to do with why Shigaraki ended up at the bottom of that pond. Shigaraki had a reason… but Yotsubashi was not that reason.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving Hanabata stunned in front of the door.

~***~

Thankfully, Shigaraki did manage to wake up. It took a whole day passing by, and he didn’t wake up until late in the second day (when Yotsubashi was starting to get really worried), but he did wake up. And of course, Yotsubashi was right there at his side.

“…where am I?” Shigaraki croaked out, looking around and eventually over at Yotsubashi.

Yotsubashi was already aware that Shigaraki had woken up beforehand—the boy had a tendency to do a lot of stretching as he was waking up, and this occasion was no exception to that. “Ah- you’re in your room. How are you feeling?”

“…” Shigaraki paused a moment, seemingly trying to figure out exactly how he was feeling. “I feel like there’s a big needle in my arm, and I don’t want it there.”

Yotsubashi laughed softly. At least the boy’s punk-like attitude didn’t disappear when he got sick. “Well, I’m sorry to report that that needle will be staying in there for a little while. The fluids in the bags are supposed to help you keep warm while you recover.”

“Recover? What the hell happened?” He actually seemed rather pissed off… that wasn’t good.

“I’m not quite sure,” Yotsubashi admitted, crossing his right leg over his left at the knee. “All I know is that I woke up and you were nowhere to be found. Then when Hanabata went outside to look for you… we eventually found you at the bottom of a pond.”

“…bottom of a pond?” Shigaraki tried to lift himself up in order to further speak to Yotsubashi, but found his arms too weak to support his body weight even for that short while. He gave up after a moment of trying and just hurting himself, and remained laying down, flat on his back and flat on the bed. He didn’t even bother to turn onto his side (as facing Yotsubashi would result in Shigaraki laying on the arm that the IV was in), simply turning his head to look at the businessman sitting at his bedside.

“Yes,” Yotsubashi confirmed, never having let go of Shigaraki’s hand through it all. “You were at the bottom of the pond that was in the public park not too far from here. It looked like the ice had broken while you were walking over it and you fell in. Now, what in God’s name were you doing out there? It was the middle of the night, actively snowing, colder than the average temperature of a home freezer, and you were out there without a jacket or even anyone to accompany you.” He didn’t sound angry, and he didn’t even sound like he was worried (although his expression gave away that he very much was). He just looked… disappointed in Shigaraki.

Shigaraki huffed and turned his head to look towards the window on the exact opposite side of the room. He hated disappointing others for several reasons (the main reason being that disappointing his father as a child meant screaming and yelling, and occasionally a beating), and he especially didn’t like upsetting Yotsubashi. Technically speaking, he had power over Yotsubashi, and had no reason to be scared of disappointing him… but at the same time, he didn’t want to disappoint the person that he had mentally been planning to spend the rest of his days alongside.

(Of course, Yotsubashi could never, ever know that Shigaraki was planning to settle down with him in the back of his mind. Not only would that be highly unprofessional of the both of them, but their relationship was strictly “friends with benefits” right now, as far as Shigaraki figured that Yotsubashi knew. As far as Shigaraki knew, however, they were on their way to be married as soon as the younger boy was able to work up the courage to buy a ring and propose to his older subordinate.)

After a few moments of grating silence, Yotsubashi finally spoke up again. “Well? Why would you risk your life like that? I know you may not always be responsible on the battlefield, and I know you don’t like wearing jackets or coats very much. But I know that you wouldn’t normally just run out into life-threatening conditions without so much as a precaution or a word to anyone. Now please tell me… why did you go out there like that, and why did you go out there like that alone?”

Shigaraki still refused to respond, leaving the room in a stunning and near eerie silence. He obviously had an answer—he was clearly the only reason that he had even left that room in the first place, and no one else knew why he had left but him. No one was going to get an answer to this question unless Shigaraki spoke up, and whatever the answer was, it was definitely something that either Shigaraki was embarrassed by or that no one else should ever really have to know. But at the same time, everyone did have to know, or else this issue could never be truly resolved, and it might possibly be impossible to prevent it from happening again.

“…” Yotsubashi didn’t speak for a moment, either. It was a mix between him not knowing what to say and him not being sure if he should say anything at all. He was worried that he might say something that would make Shigaraki want to remain quiet for longer, but he really needed to press the answer out of him, someway, somehow. “…Tomura.”

And Shigaraki raised his head, finally looking back over at Yotsubashi. “You said my name.”

Yotsubashi never called Shigaraki by his given name. Not when they were holding one another in their arms, not in between peppered kisses, and not even during their closest and most intimate moments. He had only purposely called him by first name on formal occasions, such as introducing him to others. The boy other time he had properly said Shigaraki’s given name was during their very first date, and even then, that was just when they went on an actual (and their only) proper date. They both remembered what he had said that night—the night they had both gone out to a nice restaurant together and had a good meal before coming home and joining each other in bed.

”Tomura, I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you.”

(All the time, Shigaraki desperately wondered if he truly meant it. Nearly every day, it ran through his mind—did Yotsubashi truly mean that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him, or were those just words he said that actually meant nothing, and were only meant to drag Shigaraki into the sheets? After all, he could tell the the older man had trained himself to a point in the art of seduction—he didn’t know everything, sure, but he probably knew enough, and if that much was all that was needed to get Shigaraki to have sex with him, why teach himself any more than he had already learned?)

“Yes,” Yotsubashi said after a few seconds of thinking. “I did say your name. Because I love you. And I want to know what’s wrong. If I don’t know what’s wrong, I can’t help you.”

Shigaraki had to take a moment to think, himself. Not only had Yotsubashi just given him a brief love confession… but he still had to think about if he was going to tell Yotsubashi the truth or not. He still had to think about whether he was actually going to give him an answer or not. He didn’t want to break their trust by lying to him, and he didn’t want to completely damage heir entire relationship by refusing to give him any kind of answer, but at the same time, this matter was rather personal to him, and he didn’t want to just go out giving the answer to everyone he knew, who so happened to talk with people that Shigaraki didn’t know, and might let his secrets slip.

But Shigaraki trusted Yotsubashi. And he felt that if he just asked Yotsubashi not to say anything to anyone else, then nothing would ever leave the room they both sat in at that very moment.

“Fine,” he replied, his voice quiet and his single word coming out sounding like a forced grunt. He was still pissed off, and even if he didn’t want to show it, it was clear as day through his furrowed brows and gruff tone. “I’ll tell you. As long as you promise not to tell anyone else. And if you do tell anyone else, I’ll decay you.” He held up his hand (his left hand, attached to the arm that did not have a giant needle stuck in it) to demonstrate, although it fell somewhat flat due to his hand being gloved.

“I won’t say a word to anyone, dear.” Yotsubashi wasn’t normally one for pet names, but now seemed like a suitable time to use one to get his point across. “Whatever it is, I promise it’ll just be between us. No one but myself will ever hear a word about it.”

Shigaraki sighed, finally managing to pull himself up with his left hand. He shakily pressed it against the mattress and pulled his body up with that support, and his entire upper body shook as he raised his head, neck, and eventually his entire upper half to be sitting up. Once he had pulled himself into a sitting position, Shigaraki scooted himself backward and leaned against the headboard. Then he was in the position he wanted to be in, sitting up, his head turned so he could look at Yotsubashi, and his right hand grasped between both of Yotsubashi’s palms. He never objected to having his hand held; it gave him a sense of security and made him feel like he was being loved in this moment.

Shigaraki waited a brief moment before speaking up again. “The reason I left the villa… was because I wanted to leave the villa. I wanted to be outside in the freezing cold. And more than anything… I wanted to drown at the bottom of that frozen pond.”

It was a lot to take in. Yotsubashi had been preparing himself to hear nearly any reason—maybe someone had taken him out and come back, maybe he had left to pick up something and got distracted, or maybe he had even gone out on a very ill-advised walk and accidentally ended up at the bottom of the pond when he slipped on ice beneath the snow and crashed through the ice on the surface of the water. But the terrifying thought of Shigaraki going out there on purpose in the attempt to commit suicide by drowning had never crossed his mind.

“…Tomura…” Yotsubashi didn’t know what to say. He was in complete and total shock. The only other word he could get out was said in a very confused and disappointed tone. “Why?”

Tomura averted his gaze yet again. “No. I told you why I left the villa in the first place because that’s what you wanted to have the answer to. No more questions, because I don’t want to give any more answers.” He scooted himself forward and laid his head back down on the pillow, whimpering softly as the area just below the crown of his head made impact against the pillow. “Now, I would like for you to either shut your mouth and let me get a little more sleep or leave entirely. Your choice.”

Yotsubashi didn’t say another word, instead opting to merely keep a gentle grasp on Shigaraki’s right hand, cupping one half in each of his palms. He didn’t say an “I love you”. He didn’t say Shigaraki’s given name. He just sat there in the chair at Shigaraki’s bedside, keeping his lips sealed as he ran him thumb across the back of Shigaraki’s hand that wasn’t covered up by a partial glove. He didn’t even lean down to kiss his hand, fearful of how that might damage their relationship further.

(Of course, what Yotsubashi didn’t know was that their relationship hadn’t been damaged at all by this predicament. He had been assuming that their relationship was damaged because he had pressured Shigaraki to give an answer he clearly didn’t want to let slip, and now Shigaraki was refusing to even let him speak for fear of being forced to let go of any more secrets that he was never supposed to let out. But in Shigaraki’s mind, their relationship was almost stronger because of this, because Shigaraki knew that if Yotsubashi had never pried that answer out of him, he might end up hurting himself and Yotsubashi further than they had already been hurt up to this point.)

And there Shigaraki laid, eventually falling asleep on the bed, surrounded by warmth and swallowed up by a heavy blanket. And there Yotsubashi sat, holding Shigaraki’s hand in his and desperately trying to scrounge up an answer as to why Shigaraki would want himself to die in the first place.

~***~

Chikazoku sighed softly, leaning against the wall to the left of the door to Shigaraki’s room. He had a hand partially obscuring his face on the top half, although the action was mildly redundant, considering that his eyes were now covered by both his bangs and his hand. He and Hanabata had been standing outside of Shigaraki’s room yet again, the door slightly ajar so they could peek in, and only moments after the pair arrived, Shigaraki was finally willing to speak.

Naturally, they listened in.

“So,” Hanabata said after a few moments of excruciating silence, “Shigaraki went out of the villa with the intention of killing himself.” He turned to face Chikazoku, who still had his hand over his eyes, and therefore couldn’t tell Hanabata was looking at him. “Well, then? You had to have known with what you said to me the other day. So out with it, then.”

Chikazoku didn’t speak for a moment. He was either not wanting to say something and eventually decided to speak up or he as contemplating how to word what was about to come out of his mouth. And when he finally did speak, it seemed to be the latter, but it brought two other possibilities along with it. He was either lying to make himself look better in this situation, or he was telling the brutally honest truth. “Well, I knew he had to have left the villa on his own, and I knew that Yotsubashi had nothing to do with him doing so. Of course, I never figured he would try to kill himself via drowning.”

Giving Chikazoku the benefit of the doubt and telling himself that the other man was giving him the most truthful answer, Hanabata let out a sigh and put his hands in his jacket pockets. “Well, the only logic behind him leaving without a vehicle being missing was that he left on his own. But tell me, Tomoyasu… how did you know that Yotsubashi was unrelated to this entire incident?”

“Because I had suspicions of the reasoning behind his initial disappearance.” He said it nearly immediately, indicating that both this answer and the prior answer were most likely the truth. “You see, we were in a meeting with someone else, and that someone made a comment without his knowledge of Shigaraki’s… identity, shall I say? And it pissed him off so badly that he just left without even excusing himself.”

Hanabata got the essence of what he was trying to say, but being the little shit he was, he wanted more than just the essence of Chikazoku’s statement. “Identity, you say,” he said, vaguely but not exactly repeating Chikazoku’s previous set of words. “Are you referring to his sexuality? Or is he secretly considering himself a girl?”

“Not like that, Hanabata,” Chikazoku said in a tone that seemed like a mix of shock and frustration. “Actually, quite the opposite. Shigaraki was born female and transitioned to being male later in life. And we were in a meeting with higher employees of Detnerat, and one of those higher employees made a comment about how trans women were glorified drag queens and trans men were glorified tomboys. We barely got into the actual meeting before Shigaraki left, and he didn’t even say anything before doing so.”

“…well, that’s highly unprofessional, isn’t it?” Hanabata noted, putting a finger to his chin and looking up at the ceiling in thought. “I want you to tell Yotsubashi about this. He needs to fire that employee and help Shigaraki get back up on his feet.”

“…you’re right. That may be the best solution.” Chikazoku sighed and stepped away, pulling out his phone to make a phone call to Yotsubashi.

~***~

Chikazoku called Yotsubashi not long after he left the hallway outside Shigaraki’s room, and when Yotsubashi found out what had happened just before that business meeting, he was- well, “furious” didn’t even begin to describe it. He wanted nothing more than to crush that employee under the heel of his boot, and he wanted nothing more than to tell Shigaraki everything was going to be okay. He definitely couldn’t do the first thing until he had a name (which Chikazoku said he was working on retrieving), but right away, he went back to Shigaraki and began to attempt comforting him.

Yotsubashi didn’t say a word as he opened the door back up and went back over to Shigaraki’s bedside, sitting down in his normal chair and taking Shigaraki’s right hand in both of his. He just stayed there for a while, both not wanting to break the silence and also contemplating how he was going to bring this up with Shigaraki. Obviously, this was a very stressful topic for the younger boy, considering that it was mostly likely the reason that Shigaraki had attempted suicide those four days from this point. Yes, it had been a long and rather grueling four days since Shigaraki had left and been found at the bottom of the frozen pond in the park, and it had only been two and a half day since Shigaraki had woken up. He was still rather sick; he had a near constant fever, a light cough, and couldn’t stop falling asleep due to a lack of energy (and also with contribution from the fever), but he was very much alive, and would eventually make a full recovery. Yotsubashi never wanted to leave his side… at least, not until he completely recovered.

After a few moments of sitting in silence, Yotsubashi finally spoke. “Shigaraki. Chikazoku was the one who called me just a moment ago. And he informed me that you left a meeting around a week ago because one of the employees of Detnerat made some comments that you… did not agree with at all.”

Shigaraki didn’t speak for a moment or so. It seemed to be a combination of him wondering if he wanted to even give a response and him struggling to stay awake long enough to keep the conversation going. “That’s right,” he merely said at first, pausing for a handful of seconds before picking up and adding onto it. “He said things like what my master would have said, you know? The kinds of things that make you sad. The kinds of things that make you angry. The kinds of things that only asshole bigots agree with. The kinds of things… that make you want to kill yourself after you’ve heard them too many times over.”

“So it’s true, then,” Yotsubashi said, his final word coming out wrapped in a heavy sigh. “You attempted suicide because he said something that you felt bad hearing?”

“It wasn’t that I felt bad hearing it. It made me feel that I was a waste of space. That maybe I was wrong to transition the second I was able to. That maybe I was meant to stay Tenko. More than anything else, that I was meant to stay Tenko. When people say transphobic shit like that, it makes me wish that Master—and to some extension, Father—had gone further than yelling and slapping and spankings. It makes me wish that they put me in my place early on by telling me what I was meant for. What I was born to be. I was born to be Tenko. I was meant to be Tenko. But I rejected that to become Tomura… and the words that some people say make me think that I made a mistake by doing that. That I ruined my life by making myself into who I am now.”

Yotsubashi frowned. During everything Shigaraki said, he never spoke a word. He never tempted to interject. He only nodded, rubbed his fingers over the back of Shigaraki’s right hand, and listened to everything he had to say. This wasn’t just him giving Yotsubashi a simple “yes” or “no” answer, but rather it was him venting out his feelings and frustrations to someone whom he trusted with this information. This was something that Yotsubashi had no right interrupting (because it was important for Tomura to let off his chest) and something that Yotsubashi had no right to comment on (because he didn’t know exactly what Tomura was going through due to never having any experience of his own).

After a moment, Shigaraki began to speak again. “It was just unbearable. I wasn’t forced to think about these things for so long because every villain I had ever worked with was so supportive of me. And this this happens after years, and it all just came flooding back. Ho much Master hurt me, both on my body and in my mind. How much my father hated me just for existing and wanting to be something other than what he wanted me to be. And how much I felt I had fucked up just by wanting to be Tomura and not Tenko. So… I went out of the villa. I made my way down to the park. I was just planning to sit out there and eventually die of exposure… but I slipped, I fell back, and I went through the ice. I didn’t try to live. I was just going to let myself drown and let the water consume my body. But then… you saved me.”

Yotsubashi sighed softly at that, finally feeling that he had to make a statement of some kind. “I did what I had to, yes… but I also did what I wanted to. I didn’t want you to die, Tomura.”

“…do you love me?”

“What?” He was brought aback by that question. Never in a million years would he have expected Shigaraki to ask him that, and certainly not following a conversation like the one that had occurred just seconds prior.

“I know you heard me, Yotsubashi. Do you love me?”

(The answer? Yes. he was miserably smitten with Shigaraki, but he knew they would never go beyond holding onto one another as they slept and spending every available moment in the sheets. All he was to Shigaraki was a sex buddy, and he had no shame in admitting that he knew that. What he did have shame in admitting, however, was that he was madly in love with Shigaraki. He had been madly in love with the younger man ever since their first night in the bedroom. They had started with kissing and undressing, and from the very second his lips met the other set, he knew that Shigaraki was the one for him… but he was not the one for Shigaraki, and it broke his heart to know that. Still, Shigaraki wanted the truth, so the truth he would get.)

“…yes,” Yotsubashi admitted, letting out a soft breath. “Yes, I love you. I’ve loved you ever since the first night we spent alone. That first night was pure bliss, yes… but my love for you is more than just for your body. My love for you extends far beyond that. I fell in love with your smile, and your willingness to fight back, and the fact that you’ll ever take anything from anyone. I fell in love with you… and the way you look is just the cherry on top for me. I… I am in love with you, Tomura Shigaraki.”

Shigaraki had started to sit up part of the way through Yotsubashi’s confession, and was now sitting up completely straight and blushing furiously. The answer he had expected was certainly not a positive one, and he was most certainly not expecting the passionate love confession he had just received. He had over his left hand to his chest in a dramatic action of complete shock, and his jaw was dropped to match. After a moment of taking it in, he let out a chuckle. It was one of those laughs that could hardly be considered a “laugh”, and was more accurately described as “a single syllable sound of amusement”. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Yotsubashi couldn’t love him… no matter how desperately he wanted it to be true.

“You have to be lying to me,” he said with another single syllable chuckle following. “It just can’t be true.” He could feel tears starting to make their way out of his eyes and begin traveling down his cheeks.

Yotsubashi, for the first time since Shigaraki had left the villa that fateful night, climbed up onto the bed, careful not to pull on the cannulae connecting the IV in Shigaraki’s arm to the fluid bags as he did so. He sat himself to Shigaraki’s right, and wrapped his right arm around him from behind, using his left hand to reach behind Shigaraki’s head and nudge it towards Yotsubashi’s own. And with that simple action, both mens’ sets of lips were touching. Shigaraki was going to consider it their first kiss—after all, any other “kisses” that they’d had up to this point were only ever made in the heat of passion, and were only ever done to make them even hornier for one another than they had been before. But this? This was a real kiss, and it signified that for the first time, they were more than just friends with benefits.

~***~

“Yotsubashi.”

Chikazoku and Yotsubashi had just left a meeting, and they were finally allowed to have a personal, non-business related conversation. At this point, it had been two weeks since Shigaraki had fallen through the ice, and the younger boy had made a complete recovery (and, as Hanabata put it, he was “back on his bullshit”). Simply put, Yotsubashi had no explanation as to why Chikazoku was pulling him aside, considering there was nothing to worry about regarding Shigaraki.

“Oh, yes!” Yotsubashi kept up his cheerful and manly mildly professional demeanor. He wasn’t going to break character unless he absolutely had to or unless something completely shocked him out of it. “What seems to be the issue, Chikazoku?”

“It’s regarding Shigaraki. He messaged me during the meeting. He said that when you were done, he wanted to see you in his office… whatever that means.” Chikazoku said it with a light wave of the hand. Shigaraki didn’t actually have an office, so the words meant nothing to Chikazoku.

But Yotsubashi knew exactly what he meant, and left with a nod of the head, heading down the hall to meet up with Shigaraki. Eventually, he made his way to the younger boy’s room, which (thankfully) no longer had any medical equipment within, and its only contents were going to be a blue-haired boy laying on the bed. With a small smile, Yotsubashi knocked on the door, waiting there until he heard a brief “come in”, and then opened the door, seeing Shigaraki laying on the bed, wearing nothing but his chest binder and a pair of boxers.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Shigaraki said in a breathy tone, sitting up and turning to look at Yotsubashi. “Are you ready to get down to business?”

Yotsubashi closed the door and gave a soft smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

[earliebirb]

i’ll save you a seat

steve/tony, established relationship, canon divergence, 1673 words

(inspired by this deleted scene from the avengers [2012])

“Waiting on the big guy?”

“Ma’am?” Steve looks up from his sketchbook, eyes squinting against the sunlight. 

He meets the gaze of one of the waitresses working at the café. Her long blond hair flows down to her chest and she is dressed in the café’s signature uniform: pastel orange blouse, black skirt, and a white half apron tied around her waist. 

“Iron Man,” the waitress clarifies, lips quirked up in a knowing smile. “A lot of people eat here just to see him fly by.”

“Right,” Steve says, lips twitching at their inside joke. He opens his mouth to say something else, but a familiar silhouette in the distance catches his eye and breaks his train of thought. “Uh, actually…”

He nods at the sky. The waitress follows his gaze.

The object grows larger, approaching at a high speed. It morphs into a blur of red and gold that streaks across the blue sky right above them, sending a gust of wind that ruffles the waitress’ blond locks. The figure lands a short distance away from the café with a distinct metallic thunk — the sound of gold-titanium alloy hitting concrete. 

All around him, people begin to whisper among themselves with excitement, some even taking out their phones to document the spectacle. Although Steve can’t really say he enjoys the attention, warmth still blooms in his chest as he observes the approaching figure. He finds himself hiding an involuntary grin behind his hand.

“Always a dramatic entrance, huh?” The waitress chuckles.

“You know it.” Steve sighs with fond exasperation. All eyes are on Tony as he walks toward the outdoor area of the café, the nanotech suit peeling away from his body. The excited murmurs and whispers increase in volume.

When Tony finally arrives at the table, he bends down to plant a kiss on Steve’s cheek. “Good morning, beloved.”

“Mr. Stark-Rogers,” the kind waitress greets with a smile. “The usual?”

“Please, Beth. I told you to call me Tony.” Tony reaches up to slide his sunglasses a few inches down the bridge of his nose, giving her a disapproving look that makes her chuckle. “And yes, please. Thank you.”

“Table’s yours as long as you like,” she says before disappearing into the indoor part of the café to relay the order. Steve knows she means it, too. She’ll make sure of it, just like she always has for the past few years.

The café had been Steve’s favorite café, at first. He visited the place often, especially during his first few weeks in the twenty-first century. He developed a fondness for their sesame seed bagels and the lovely view of Stark Tower from his favorite outdoor table, although the latter is a fact Steve would never admit to Tony even on pain of death. 

However, the café quickly became Steve and Tony’s favorite café when their reluctant camaraderie bloomed into friendship all those years ago. Even before they started dating, Steve and Tony already established a weekly ritual of having brunch at the café whenever their schedules aligned. 

Tony did eventually admit to Steve that he found the café’s coffee to be subpar. He did, however, insist that the café was his favorite, albeit for reasons different from Steve’s. Not for the bagels, not for the exceptional view of Stark Tower, and definitely not for the coffee, but because the café was a place full of memories. His memories of the two of them, his memories of Steve:

“That café was where I first made you laugh. Like, really laugh. I’d seen you smile or chuckle before, but that kind of full-body laughter? That was a first. And I remember thinking that… I really, really liked the way you laughed.”

It has been seven years since Steve first sat at this very table and sketched the figure of Stark Tower looming before him. Beth is still working at the café, having made her way through the ranks. Now a co-owner of the café, she has developed a friendship of sorts with Steve and Tony — both of whom she claims to be her favorite regulars. Tony likes to joke about how she probably says that to all of her regulars, something Beth always denies vehemently. 

Steve turns his attention back to Tony, who has taken off and folded his sunglasses, letting them hang from the collar of his shirt. 

“Would it kill you to take the elevator and walk?”

“It’s not like I do this every single time. Besides, why take the elevator when you have a flying suit? That’s just ineffective.” Tony makes a face as he pulls his chair out.

“‘S good exercise.”

“I exercise plenty.” Tony sits down on the chair across from him, scooting closer to the table. Under the table, his ankle brushes Steve’s. “Besides, we just engaged in a vigorous workout session this morning.” Tony bites his lower lip, giving Steve a lascivious wink.

“Tony,” Steve reprimands, but finds himself unable to say anything further, not when the back of his neck is heating up at the memory of what they were up to just a few hours ago. While Steve immediately showered afterward and headed straight to the café, Tony decided he wanted to sleep for a few more hours, promising to join Steve later. 

Tony grins before leaning forward on his elbows to peer at Steve’s sketch.

“Which lucky building are you sketching today, honeybunch?”

He squints and frowns when instead of a building he finds a rough and nondescript sketch of a person’s face. 

It could be anyone to the untrained eye, but Steve’s pen strokes are sure and confident, having rendered the same jawline countless of times. 

Every single time, Tony’s figure never fails to fascinate him. Always so beautiful from every angle, in every light. Steve knows it well enough by now to be able to sketch him simply from an image in his mind’s eye. 

Still, nothing beats the real thing. Steve takes in the sweep of Tony’s dark lashes and his coffee brown eyes as he appraises the drawing.

“It’s not a building,” Steve says instead. 

Tony hums noncommittally, tilting his head at the sketch and giving it one last look before leaning back in his seat. “How was your morning run?”

“Uneventful.”

“Really?” Tony says distractedly, his attention on Beth who is once again approaching their table with his cup of coffee, black as midnight.

Tony engages in more small talk with Beth as she sets the cup and saucer on the table, asking after her husband and kids. There is an easy and carefree smile on his face, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes.

All the while, his fingers are fiddling with two sugar packets Steve knows he will only use one of. He is always buzzing with energy, parts of him always in a state of perpetual motion, finding it near impossible to stay still. 

Steve also knows that he won’t finish the coffee because it wasn’t made by Steve or himself.

These little idiosyncrasies are details that make up Tony, the little quirks that only Steve knows.

The little things that make you mine, Steve thinks privately. He feels something inside him softening at the thought.

“Sorry, honey,” Tony says when Beth eventually leaves to take another table’s orders, his smile soft and affectionate. “You were saying? Running was uneventful?”

“Yeah,” Steve says quietly, “nothing really interesting.” He admires the way sunlight turns the tips of Tony’s dark hair into a lighter shade of brown. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re still the highlight of my morning.”

Tony huffs, rolling his eyes, but his lips curve up into a pleased smile and his brown eyes are warm with affection as he meets Steve’s gaze. He reaches for Steve’s hand on the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. The band of vibranium around his husband’s ring finger gleams in the late morning sunlight.

“I better be, after waking you up with one hell of a—”

“Tony!” Steve exclaims, knocking his ankle against Tony’s in warning. “Stop it.”

“What? It’s the truth! You really did enjoy it when I—”

“There are children around,” Steve hisses, casting a furtive glance at a nearby table occupied by a family of four. 

Tony laughs softly, his shoulders shaking with it. Still holding his gaze, he brings Steve’s hand to his lips, pressing two feather-light kisses to the back of his hand. He continues holding Steve’s hand against his mouth, and when he speaks Steve feels his lips and the bristles of his goatee brushing his skin.

“Sorry, baby, I can’t help it.” Tony hides a smile against Steve’s knuckles. “You’re just so pretty when you blush.”

Steve looks down, avoiding Tony’s eyes in favor of staring at the cookie crumbs next to his half-full cup of coffee that has long since gone cold. His cheeks are still burning, and Tony’s words are not helping.

“See?” Tony says, before planting a kiss to his knuckles. “So pretty.”

Steve shuts his eyes with a defeated sigh. “Please just drink your coffee.”

Tony chuckles again but Steve hears the clink of ceramic, a cup being lifted from its saucer. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

He only allows himself to open his eyes when Tony gets distracted by some pigeons, immediately launching into a spiel about the one time he was attacked by a pigeon who was apparently really determined to steal his sandwich.

Steve nods along dutifully, reacting at appropriate times throughout the story, but all he can think of is that sitting there, at a café’s outdoor table on Park Avenue on a bright Sunday morning, his husband sat in front of him talking a mile a minute, is that there is nowhere else he’d rather be.

His gaze falls down to where Tony’s hand is still holding his, even when his other hand is gesturing animatedly as he tells his story.

Yes. Steve thinks, smiling helplessly at the twinkle in Tony’s eyes — the one that appears whenever he gets excited. I’m home. 

[starshipsofstarlord]

2k followers blurb. Can I request a Theo Raeken x fem reader smut. They're dating and he takes her on a date and it ends in smut??

Old Town Road

theo raeken x reader / masterlist / 2k masterlist

summary; based on the request /warnings; fluff, smut, public sex, oral sex (male receiving)

“Full moon tonight.” As you spoke, you bit your lip, revelling your head back into the car seat head rest, as you felt it’s pull on your body. Theo’s amorous contact with your skin was not helping with controlling yourself, you had to squeeze your hands expressively into fists to blatantly refuse the prospect of your claws emerging from where your nails were rooted.

“It seems to be taking quite the toll on you, are you sure you don’t want me to turn around now and take us back home?”

“You only say that because you don’t want to go on a double date with Ethan and Jackson!” You retorted, lifting your thigh as to attempt and rid your skin from his touch, but his hand only travelled higher up, and beneath the end of your skirt.

Theo had quite the composition within your relationship, he had practically been accepted into the pack, however, it did not mean that he enjoyed doing mundane things with the other members. He happened to get along with Jackson and Ethan quite well, but despite that, it did not mean he wanted to spend additional time with them, such as a double date.

Date night had always been reserved between you and him, it was a private sector of his life that he did not want to exploit to any one else’s eyes. During it, he reckoned in similarities with a docile puppy, always seeking approval from you, it wasn’t particularly a sight that he wanted other people to witness.

He knew the fact well; he was whipped. Malia had sneered remarks at him when he had been resurrected from the depths of hell, concerning how his eyes pled with you for forgiveness, and after a while, he had managed to succeed in earning your forgiveness, after time of making amends with your friends that he had done wrong, and helping wherever aid in wolffish muscle had been needed.

“Well...” you knew well enough what that meant, as per usual when your boyfriend was concerned, you were right. An eye roll exhibited from you, as you scoffed all to knowingly, crossing your arms as you tapped your foot, sliding his hand from your thigh, slowly turning to him with a look of empowerment.

“That’s not good enough Raeken; I’ll tell you what, if you can get through this one date, we don’t have to have an encore, and I’ll let you pick desert.” It was a fair exchange, being inclusive of euphemisms and options that were certain to intrigue the chimera.

“I don’t even like deser- oh.” He promptly nodded, licking his lips as he imagined you sprawled beneath him, profusely apologising for dragging him out on a double date, before he gagged you with his cock, sliding the length into your mouth until it hit the back of your throat.

“I’m assuming we have a deal, since you’re still heading in the direction of the diner and it is now about five minutes away.” A smug expression formed upon your face, and slyly, like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, Theo smirked. He would wipe that cockiness off of you, replacing it with an apparition of sinful submission.

The truck pulled up, Theo parked the vehicle in a secluded spot, beside to a Porsche, that was far too recognisable, it was practically a statement piece when it came to the werewolf kanima mix. Exiting the midnight blue pickup, the two of you walked, you in front, as a particular antsy, get moody man trailed after you.

The diner was no unmet environment to the pair of you, in fact, for a first date when he had first arrived into your life during senior year, you had told him about this place, and thus, the pair of you had ventured there, to Stiles’ dismay.

Ethan stood, waving the two of you over to the table that they had opted to save, the pair of you slid in the booth across from them. The two males could practically smell the reluctance that was rolling off from Theo’s pores, it was pungent, gravitating a tension to fill the room.

To draw attention away from it, you plucked a menu into your hands, scanning the list of available options. Your tongue swiped over your top lip as you speculated what you were keen to digest, and then your eyes landed on the most appealing substance they had to offer. As you stared up at the boys, you noticed they were on their phones.

Boys. And they called themselves men, yeah, they still all acted like they were still in high school, and you could vouch for your behaviour back then. “So what are you guys ordering?”

“Get in the car.” Your boyfriend growled, having suffered through an hour of the pack members’ company, watching as you laughed with your old friends, and denied him of the one thing that you were aware he wanted all too well. He had been patient, but he could no longer wait, he needed you, and that was sufficed enough.

Ethan and Jackson had already driven away, leaving the car park half empty. “Technically, to put it in correct terms, it’s a truck.” You corrected him, earning an earnest growl out of your partner, whom caught your hand before you could reach for the door handle.

“The back.” He lowly spoke, watching with eager eyes as you pulled the door he had hinted at open, climbing into the backseat, him following closely behind, shutting the side of the vehicle, as he quickly began unbuckling his trousers. In turn, you tossed your shirt over your head, licking your lips as you moved closer.

“Poor Theodore, having to wait for what he wants. Not fair, is it?” Mocking him, you pouted at him, though you quickly stopped as he reached his left hand behind your head, grasping a handful of your hair in his fist, the action coercing your eyes into flashing its animalistic ambience.

“Put your mouth to better use baby girl, otherwise we’ll sit here in this parking lot all night.” It was a foreseen threat, he was far too aware of coursework for your online college that you had to finish, and you had no time to waste sitting around in the back of a truck.

You steadily blinked as you considered your options, lulling in the idea that if you did this one deed for him, you’d be off the leash for an hour to get as much work done as possible, that would be until he dragged you to bed, ravaging your body until you couldn’t comprehend sentences to type in due constables for your course.

He finished undoing his pants, reaching his hand into the depths of his boxers, and extracting his length, and you could feel yourself give in, as your mouth watered. You hummed as he dipped your head down with his grip, moving you closer to his growing cock.

Opening your mouth, you allowed him to enter, pushing down along his length, hollowing your cheeks, as he moved you down, moaning around the taste of his intimate skin. “Come on, put more effort into it.” He growled, and you could feel his claws itching the back of your scalp, egging you on further.

Theo thrust his head back against the seat, as you bobbed your head, wriggling your hand beneath your chest that was flush against the seat, to cup his balls, stroking them softly to aid to succumb him to pleasure. Your tongue swirled around his tip as your head came back up, pleasuring him serving as a great distraction to the work and pack business that bothered your life.

“Shit.” The chimera swore, bucking his tough hips up to descend his cock further into your mouth. “Gonna cum baby girl, open your mouth.” He pulled you off, just above his tip as he stroked his hardness, his cum shooting up into your mouth, and you shut your mouth to catch as much as you could, the rest landing on your chin.

Some spilt back down his cock, as you ducked your head once more, using your tongue to mop up his mess. You licked his spilt cum, swallowing it as it raced toward your tonsils. “I love you T.” You leant up, kissing him, and he huffed as he tasted himself upon your lips.

“Love you too darling, how about we go home?” He asked, pressing another kiss on your lips, as he lazily grabbed his cock, and tucked himself back into his clothes. “I can show you what I really want to do to you.”

“I don’t mind the sound of that.” You admitted, stroking his jawline, before you crawled over the centre console, and climbed into the passenger seat.

[uwuwriting]

Aizawa, Todoroki and Shinsou bringing their kids to work

Request: I just binged your whole blog and let me tell you Hawks bringing his kid to school was fhrqhelfifreh so could I request todoroki shinsou and aizawa bringing their kids to work - anonymous

Okay till the end of this week I’ll be giving you fluffy stuff because starting next week we are entering angst territory . I hope I finish the fic with Shirakumo’s daughter and then I have some angst requests to get to. So this is like a parting gift to happiness. Love ya. 💖💖💖

rules

masterlist

warnings: fluff

Aizawa Shouta 

-He loves being a dad. 

-Unlike his students his son, Kaito, is a very very calm two year old. 

-They take naps together in their matching sleeping bags, Shouta is the only one who can feed him his vegetables and they usually grade papers together. 

-You are the one who looks after Kaito while Shouta is at work and once he gets home you go off to your agency. 

-So basically Kaito spends half of his day with you and half with Aizawa. 

-When you were called in that morning because of a villain attack, you had to leave Kaito with Aizawa. 

- “I’m so sorry Shouta, Midnight was assigned on this mission with me and I don’t really trust Hizashi with a two year old.”

-He chuckled, taking a sleeping Kaito from your arms and giving you a kiss on each cheek and then on your forehead. 

- “Don’t worry kitten, I’m sure he will be an angel.”

-In the teachers lounge, before class starts for the day, nearly half of the staff is cooing over the still sleeping toddler. 

-They keep complimenting Shouta about how much they look alike and how cute he is. 

-He just grumbles about how he wants them away from his son.

-He was saved from the bell, dashing to his class surprising all of his students with his sudden appearance. 

-They hadn’t yet seen the baby in his arms until he stirred in his sleep, a few baby words tumbling from his mouth. 

-Mina was ready to let out a really really high pitched squeal when Sero slapped her mouth shut. 

- “Its sleeping!”

-Aizawa just let out a sigh and set his stuff on his desk. 

-He went to start his lesson like usual but that apparently wasn’t an option. 

-Sir you have a baby in your arms don’t expect us to stay silent and learn something useful. 

-Kaito woke up a few minutes into the whisper shouting argument Shouta was having with 18 teenagers. 

-He slowly blinked the sleep from his eyes, letting out a small yawn before looking around, his e/c eyes landing on all the new faces. 

-Everyone was silent, expecting the toddler to start crying at the change of scenery and at the absence of his mother but surprisingly no. 

-He rested his head on Shouta’s shoulder and shyly waved at the class. 

-Since he was awake Mina could be a little more vocal. 

-All the girls wanted to hold him, their main mission being to make him laugh. 

-Some of the boys were asking Aizawa some questions  while others were entertaining the toddler. 

-Kaito was really amazed by Shouto’s flames and he let out a heart warming laugh. 

-Uraraka made things float around the baby while Kaminari made small sparks. 

-Aizawa has never heard his baby boy laughing that much before.

 -At home he’s quiet, laughing only when you tickle him or when Shouta’s stumble scratches his plush cheeks. 

-Maybe taking him out more and letting the class hang out with him a little wouldn’t be so bad. 

-The last person who approached the kid was Bakugou, who crouched down to his eye level and they just stared at each for a solid minute. 

-Then Bakugou activated his quirk and the mini explosions made Kaito giggle and reach out to Katsuki. 

-The rest of the day was spent fawning over Kaito, nothing changed even after three hours of toddler entertainment. 

-When it was time to leave, the kids begged Aizawa to bring him again. 

- “Maybe I’ll bring him to the dorms at some point. But don’t irritate me you brats because otherwise he’s staying home.”

Bonus:

“I heard that you, little man, were a heartthrob today!”

*baby babbling*

“Yeah he didn’t let me teach.”

“Like it bothered you.”

“I never said that” 

Todoroki Shouto

-You had to go on a mission abroad for a week and today the twins’ preschool had informed you that they wouldn’t open today. 

-Frantically you called Shouto, proposing some solutions to your problem. 

- “I’ll take them with me.”

-He wants to spend more time with his girls anyway. 

-Both of them are very curious about their parents’ job and they have asked both of you to take them to work. 

-This was their chance. 

-You went to protest, knowing how stressing hero work could be and not wanting to stress your husband out more.

- “Love, I want them with me. I want to spend time with my snowflakes.”

-You couldn’t argue with that.

-He woke them up and helped them get dressed, leading them to the kitchen for breakfast while he simultaneously did their hair. 

-The twins aren’t really morning types so they tend to be really quiet until noon. 

-Telling them what they would be doing today, Shouto grabbed his things and stretched out both of his arms. 

-When people at the agency saw the youngest Todoroki with two little girls clinging to his hands they were confused. 

-They knew that he had a family, you two worked at the same agency after all, but they had never seen your kids. 

-And let me tell you that 90% of your coworkers are now cooing at the three year olds. 

-Shouto knew that his daughters didn’t really like crowds, even Rei who was the talkative one of the two would get shy and hide behind him when new people approached. 

-Because of that he scooped both girls up and quickly made his way to his office. 

-A few staff members greeting him and the girls but not many stopped him. 

-Once inside he set them down and went straight to work. 

-The girls are really quiet in general. 

-They pulled two chairs on either side of their father and sat there, coloring and doodling or just staring at his reports. 

-Surprisingly, Ren asked some questions while Rei stayed quiet.

-The crowd at the entrance must have exhausted her social battery. 

-Pushing his chair back, he pulled both of them on his lap kissing their foreheads before going back to his reports making small comments here and there to keep them updated. 

-Rei fell asleep after half an hour and it was the cutest sight. 

-Ren followed soon after, the little white and red haired humans clinging to his shirt like a life line as they snoozed off. 

-He took a picture and send it to you making you jealous beyond belief. 

 I want cuddles too!!!  😣😣😣  Someone’s jealous.🥰🥰

-He leaned his head on one of them at some point and he too fell asleep. 

-His secretary walked in to inform him of his father’s arrival and had heart eyes for the rest of the day. 

-She took a picture and sent it to you, informing you that your husband was sleeping on the job. 

-They were too cute though so she couldn’t bring herself to wake them up. 

-But alas there’s no rest for the wicked so he woke up at some point. 

-The rest of the day was spent with the three of them going to meetings, filing reports and training at the agency’s gym. 

-Watching two mini Shoutos running around the gym pretending to train is top tier stuff. 

Bonus

“Rei sweetheart don’t freeze your sister.”

“But she’s the bad guy!”

“Am not!” *flames flying*

“Ren don’t burn the place down.”

Shinsou Hitoshi

-Kei is actually the one who wanted to go to the agency. 

-She had asked both you and Shinsou to take her with you one day. 

-She may be using it as an excuse to skip day care but you do you hun. 

-It was her birthday and the little shit used that to her advantage.

- “Can I come with you to work? Pretty please?”

- “Kei...”

- “And it’s my birthday today.”

-You just level Shinsou with a glare.

- This is all you 

-Shrugs. 

-Now you have no choice but to take her with you and hope that everything goes smoothly. 

-The main reason why you didn’t want to bring her with you was the looming possibility that someone could attack and your little girl would be in extra danger. 

-Hitoshi reassured you that everything would be fine. 

- “Her parents are two of the best heroes in the industry, she’ll be completely fine. I promise.” 

-He woke her up the next morning, scooping her up and bringing her to the kitchen for breakfast. 

-She was really clingy in the mornings and wouldn’t function correctly if one of you didn’t hug her until she fully woke up. 

-Hitoshi is really soft for her during her birthday. 

-He’s soft for her everyday but today he’s ten times softer. 

-Gets her dressed and ready for the agency and is out the door in no time. 

-Shinsou talks about his family a lot.

-He has like fifteen photos of you and Kei in his office and a bunch of her drawings tapped to the wall. 

-He adores his family okay?

-So your coworkers aren’t so surprised when they see the small mess of violet hair resting in his arms. 

-She too doesn’t like crowds but won’t cower away. 

-She’ll put on a brave face and greet the strangers with acute politeness. 

-As long as one of you is in a ten inch radius she’ll be fine. 

-She answers all the questions that are being thrown her way. 

-She even sat there and suffered through a handful of cheek pinching. 

-Shinsou sees her suffering and scoops her up, excusing them and taking her to his office.

-You kissed her forehead and headed out to your own office, making her promise to visit you at some point because you too need some cuddles during work. 

- “We’ll catch bad guys momma!!”

-She is a curious little girl, so for the next two hours or so she’ll be exploring every nook and cranny of Hitoshi’s office, opening drawers and cabinets, digging through case files and boxes. 

-Then she might play with Hitoshi’s capture tool before visiting you for an hour or two. 

-You love having her attention but you know she’s simply taking a break from her dad’s office. 

-She’ll be back to Shinsou in no time. 

-Daddy’s girl.....it iz what it iz. 

-Around noon she starts to get tired. 

-If she was in day care she would be taking her daily nap.

-Her exploring tired her way too much and that’s why she’s now snoozing off in one of the armchairs in Hitoshi’s office. 

-He draped his jacket over her and let her sleep. 

-Later on you two took her to a meeting, allowing her some insight in the hero industry. 

-Plus she gets to hear the tea. 

-For training she tags along with you, doing some laps and trying -and failing- to do some push ups. 

-At the end of the day she was exhausted, sleeping soundly on Hitoshi’s shoulder as you made your way home.  

Bonus

“I don’t want her to grow up.”

“Well we could always make another one.”

“Way to be subtle mister....”

“Let me smash...”

TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan​ @the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​ @axerrri​ @reinyrei​ @dnarez​

[kim-monsterlings]

Eladan - M Orc x GN Human (Reader) // SFW

The pictures do not belong to me. I only created the mood board. Do not repost my work anywhere.

Content: SFW/Orange; surrounding a mute from birth reader and some mild self-depreciating thoughts of this, mild swearing, minor heartbreak, insecurities, drinking alcohol, light touching (hugging, stroking arms, tusks nuzzled to reader’s cheeks), very fluffy ending to make up for the heartache

Wordcount: 3067

Notes: Eladan was one of the first stories I wrote, but until “tropemas” I never finished him. There is a small follow up planned for Quinn the changeling, with info here, and a maybe NSFW for each Eladan and Vaia the cute minotaur. I hope you love them <3

“Tropemas” Summary: soulmate AU - the first words overheard by your soulmate are marked on your forearm, but they aren’t so nice

Masterlist // “Tropemas” Masterlist

Of all places, the words intended to shatter your heart came while you were working. The words so many others clutched tight and waited for, desperate to find their soulmates, left you wanting nothing more than to avoid them. Suffering with the harsh words marked into your forearm since you were young enough to remember had left you broken-hearted before the offence, and weak-kneed when it finally came.

Working in the tavern, no less. If only you could blame it on the alcohol, but the offending orc had only just begun to drink. Sat in a large booth beside a minotaur - neither of whom you'd ever seen before, but beside Quinn, an old fae friend of yours, a changeling. They'd yet to see you, and after freezing behind the bar, you weren't sure if you had the strength to near them.

The orc's pint had clattered against pierced tusks, the froth bubbling up to a thick, braided beard, before he scowled, almost shouting, "why should I waste my life on some soulmate?" The pint slammed back onto the table once more, emptied. "Fuck fate."

Fuck fate.

It hurt more then. The first sentence you were too familiar with - after years spent scrubbing at the words, hoping one day they would wash away like ink - but the following sentiment twisted your stomach into nausea. The tavern busied in your lapse, patrons flooding in with no concern to your pained smile as you served them.

Fuck fate.

Waste my life.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair for Quinn's soulmate brand to have delicate cursive, to almost whisper "take me", yet yours was harsh and unfeeling. So many times, you had considered marking it over, though artists refused. Altering a soulmate mark was immoral, no matter the price or bargain.

The orc quieted following his outburst. You wouldn't have been drawn closer if not for a call of your name - nickname, at least, with Quinn above all respecting the importance of names - and you were helpless to wandering closer.

Though this was the first night you had ever neared Quinn when out with strangers, the fae only leaned back and softened their dangerous, charming smile. Pierced and pointed tips of their ears appeared through plaited midnight hair as they turned closer. In the presence of strangers, too, they began signing in common, for which you were more than grateful for as the orc's attention swung to you.

"I wanted to say hi. Busy night?" From that, Quinn frowned. "You look tired."

"Tired," you repeated, and shrugged a little, Quinn mirroring with a small sigh. They were busy too, and you had to wonder why of all company, they chose to spend their night with an orc so horribly rude. Of course, you wouldn't outrightly say such a thing - yet. "New friends?"

"Old," they signed, before spelling, "Vaia." They tipped their chin to the almost honey coloured minotaur, and she smiled, her nose ring shifting, which left the orc to be, "Eladan. Only visiting. When do you finish?”

That cracked your mask a little. Quinn would often wait for you, to share a drink in the early morning before walking you home. Tonight, nothing sickened you more than the thought of time wasted in Eladan's company.

So, with your smile weakened, you returned, "tired." Quinn's bright eyes rolled. The excuse was well overused, but they didn't persist. "Have a drink on me."

Their touch brushed to your palm. Quinn kissed your knuckles and bid you goodnight, but only in turning did the angle of Eladan's stare strike you. He hardly feigned looking away from the loose sleeve at your wrist, and had it been any looser, the dark cruelty forever scarring you would have been legible.

The table waited hardly a minute after you left before whispering of you, but to your surprise the mumbled whisper of, "cannot speak," came from the minotaur, not orc. A weight of stares fell upon you where you stood, pretending to wipe down the bar. Vaia's deep voice carried, and though the question came as no surprise, the curiosity only served to benefit your soulmate. "How?"

"Born mute," Quinn said, and that was all.

When you looked back before passing into the kitchen, the orc had gripped his wrist tight.

Another server tended to their booth under your pleading. Most who worked in the tavern, and several customers, had been kind enough to learn some sign, or carry paper for you when needed. The night passed well, without any further heartbreaks, until Quinn's wave caught your eye.

They would be back late in the night for you so you only smiled back, smiling even to Vaia, and paid no mind to the orc yet to leave. But hidden only behind your hair now, his passing scrutiny struck harder. Was it now your shying away that earned a frown, his tusks twisted at his lips, or the refusal to turn away when he came to the bar, leaning on his forearms, that had his head tilting?

Suddenly, the colour of your outfit struck you. Something as simple as that burned in your chest and forced you to lift your head from your chest. The soft green of it matched the orc's mottled shadings near perfectly, and the irony twisted deep in your stomach.

"Pardon me," he said, in a voice so soft you almost forgot the words scarred onto you. "May I ask if your heart is spoken for?"

Why couldn't those be the words of love and affection so many had on their bodies? The pain from his attempt now to - what was he attempting? To seduce you or use you for his visit - bittered what little was left of your good mood. You left Eladan watching as you turned and walked away.

The close friendship you cherished with Quinn became your undoing. Where they went, two shadows trailed, and usually into the tavern. They hadn't specified how long the visit was, nor its purpose, and you couldn't help feeling rude asking after immediately being introduced.

Though you ought to have because Quinn thought it would be fun to introduce you all. Your refusals were ignored after desperately trying to think of an excuse, but your only excuse was work, and they could wait for you to finish. Quinn invited Vaia and Eladan to the markets, a day out usually reserved for only the two of you, and not a heart-breaking orc.

Vaia was quiet, but that was no different to how many were around you. Often afraid to speak for you couldn't, unable to really communicate but with a strained smile and nod, but the company was nice, at least, and when she began talking, drawing you to stalls when a soft fabric caught her eye, you found you didn't mind staying by her side and helping wrap the small scarf carefully by her horns, for more reason than company.

The orc never strayed far. More than often, he stood with Quinn, but his eyes flitted back to you. Vaia moved to catch up with Quinn and left you to yourself before you'd realised, and a quiet rumble of your name left you frozen in shock. He offered a small flower, dark petals and tiny in his hand, though somehow dwarfing yours. Eladan's lips rose as he stepped closer.

"Walk with me?"

Fuck fate, he had cursed, and you wanted to throw the flower, but he ducked his head and left you with an aching heart, as if already resigned to your refusal. The orc looked shrunken; shoulders fallen low as he looked back to where your friends had gone ahead without you.

"They mentioned lunch," he said then, eyes firmly on the flower twirling in your hand. "If you're hungry? Not at the tavern, that would be cruel to take you back when you are not working. Somewhere with warm food."

Cruel, and the word twisted your stomach. In an effort just to make him stop, you nodded, and Eladan's chest deflated on a rush of breath.

"We hunt when we travel. Vaia and I," he said quietly, after stealing looks in what you had hoped to be a companionable silence, walking close enough his arm brushed to yours; the arm marked by his words. "I miss proper meals. Isn't it hard working around warm food all the time? No, I… I suppose not," he mumbled when you only frowned, and his head lifted when, like a blessing, Quinn called out to you.

Eladan offered to order for you. The offer itself tightened your chest in a way you tried to fight off, immediately signing to Quinn and waiting far from the pair and by Vaia. With a nod to the jewellery now changed in her nose, she grinned and thanked you for the implied compliment. Standing beside her now had been easier before, when you didn't see the small frown on the orc's lips after you left him.

The other small tavern in your village was adjoined to an inn, less crowded and more welcoming to friends than a bar would be on a late evening. Eladan squeezed beside you in the booth not intended for so many, and Quinn sat opposite you, leaning into Vaia as you waited for drinks.

With all your heart, you tried to hate the evening. Forced close to your intended soulmate, his muscles thick and tense, it was impossible not to wonder at what could have been - what still might be, if you moved beyond the harsh words you'd grown up with.

He was travelling with Vaia looking for work. They helped people in need of protection as unofficial bodyguards. You believed that wholeheartedly, and even grinned when Vaia told a story of how she'd been the first of their company to beat Eladan in a fight, and the first to bruise his ego. If he'd caught his breath when you'd laughed, you smothered that to the back of your mind.

"If you ever want to travel," he murmured, lifting his pint up and glancing down, a small smile crinkling his eyes. "I'd love to take you. Have you travelled?"

You shook your head and sipped at your drink, which was a dangerous thing to do, now his rumbling voice had begun to sound pleasant, and the press of his thigh to yours was warm and welcomed. You couldn't pinpoint when you had stopped leaning away from him, either, his arm resting on the back of the booth behind you.

"Not many know sign. In the cities, it's... it's different, but the woods and the sea - I think you'd love it."

It wasn't the promise of the sights that made you soften and nod, but the promise of being near him, and you stiffened. By then, Vaia was already nearing the stairs up to the inn, and Eladan brushed his hand to yours in a way of goodnight before retiring, too.

That left you with a changeling who saw too much, who rose from the booth and offered an arm to hold you close. The night carried you both onward in a peaceful silence, until your home began to near. They stroked down your arms only to soften at your wrists, a flash of gold in their eyes disarming you.

"You have always been so vigilant in hiding it. The words," they whispered. "They are not kind, are they? They're… they're what he said. You overhead?"

Unable to sign with Quinn still holding you, only a sniff broke the silence. They waited for you to nod before brushing up your sleeve. Knowing the words did little to prepare for seeing them, for finding them thick and unwavering.

After an evening so pleasant by his side, they slammed a weight into you, knocking a pain which had fallen away over the course of the night, back to its place in your chest.

Why should I waste my life on some soulmate

"His arm is blank. I do not wish to overstep-" you couldn't help frowning, and Quinn laughed with you. "More so than already, but, look," they sighed. Hands gentle on yours, Quinn squeezed. "He thought there wasn't a soul out there for him. Eladan wants you."

You twisted free then, staggering back a step. "He may want a soulmate but he does not want me. He does not want some-" your fingers twisted and Quinn reached, whispering your name as you struggled to focus and sign through the rush of pain. "Some mute. He wants a soulmate, not me. Goodnight."

Quinn ducked their head and returned the sentiment, waiting until you were indoors before leaving. They didn't see you collapsed to your knees and tracing the words by heart, wishing as you had so many times before that things were different.

True to their word and for that you were beyond grateful, Quinn didn't overstep. No more outings as a group were encouraged and you threw yourself into work, spending the nights walking home and chatting with your friend, and only them, waiting until the two guests would finally pass on.

Maybe it was wrong to think so, but you didn't want him. Eladan wanted a soulmate too late. The words were always and would be scarred, stinging, a reminder of how for years you had anticipated it being in disgust at finding you mute. Whether that was so or not, whether it was a mistake, your heart had been burdened for a time long before he had tucked a flower to your ear and teased smiles to your lips, and he would be leaving soon.

Soon, but without any timeframe. It was below you to outrightly ignore him, even on the night he came into the tavern alone. Eladan's warm smile didn't meet his eyes when you left him nursing an almost untouched pint, and for once it was you looking over your shoulder to the lonely orc.

For a breath too long, your stare lingered, entranced by the muscles flexing as he shucked off a jacket, small beads in his beard clinking. The move was one so insignificant - simply removing his leathers, as many would - but he bared his wrists, his plain, empty wrists, like he wanted you to see.

Eladan's shadowed eyes fell from you to his wrist when you were drawn helplessly to the booth. "What I'm thinking," he began quietly, with his thumb rubbing in circles you had drawn time and time before, but where yours were an effort to scrub away words, his were to summon. "I think you already know, don't you?"

Unable to deny it, you did nothing but turn.

Tonight, Quinn wouldn't be there to accompany you home. Maybe it had been a set up - an overstep you doubted, but it didn't surprise you to find an orc the last patron left in the early hours of the closing tavern. Eladan left with his jacket over his shoulder and reached out to brush your hands together before leaving.

You couldn't find the strength to stay standing any longer. The churning in your stomach forced you out for fresh air, collapsing back into the wall for support when the first, long-suppressed sob tore from you.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair to be so heartbroken before ever learning who your soulmate was, and to now want to be with them, to learn them, yet feel the pain of their imprint lingering behind any soft smile or effort in carrying a conversation.

Nor was it fair to be completely unsurprised by the tentative call of your name from your soulmate, the very same who had waited for you, stumbling across you pressing a hand over your mouth and choking back cries.

Eladan's knuckles first brushed from your damp cheeks to skim along your throat. Gentle enough was his hold that you could lean into him and he trembled at the closer embrace, shifting to tuck you against his chest when a shudder wracked you.

"The first words you heard me say," he murmured. "Of all the things that night for you to hear, I think you heard the worst."

The tiny, indistinguishable hum that came from your throat earned a weak smile. Eladan nodded more to himself as he tucked his fingertips beneath your coat and bared your wrist, the words as dark and legible as always.

Why should I waste my life on some soulmate

"Fuck fate," he whispered then, the following words that had served only to worsen the wound. Eladan curled himself closer and nudged his tusks to your cheeks in a move as tender and intimate as you would allow.

For him to twist free from you and turn his head down came with a strike of shame. Had you so easily fooled yourself? To think that this warrior orc, one who spat harsh words and was only passing through, would want you of all people made you weaken and sniff, trying to lean away.

Eladan frowned, braids flicking beyond his shoulder. His fingertips pressed against your cheek to return your unfocused eyes to him, before his hand curled into a fist, arm folded across his chest, and he moved his fist in a slow circle.

"I'm sorry," he signed. The next attempt became so jittery, his movements rigid and nervous all at once, that you reached for his large hands and squeezed. He weakened again and brought your touch to brush against his tusks as he spoke aloud. "Those words were from anger. I thought I was the only soul not to have a match out there. I never thought… you," he breathed, and closed his eyes. Just this once, you told yourself, you would let him lean into you; you ignored that it had happened before, that you'd let him come close already. "I want you. I want to want you for you, for more than fate's hand, and if you would give me the chance - please, I," he caught himself then, his voice cracking. "Quinn is teaching me, um- I-" You couldn't help your smile when Eladan wriggled his fingers free to sign, "please. One chance."

"One," you returned, but it was enough for him to shudder and clutch you tight.

He fumbled behind your back enough for you to recognise hand movements, before he grunted, "thank you."

[chudleycanonficfest]

Stars in the Night Sky

Day 3, Story #2 is by @adenei

Title: Stars in the Night Sky

Author: adenei

Pairing: Jily (James Potter x Lily Evans)

Prompt: Stargazing

Rating: PG

TW: None :)

****************

The castle is peaceful as it nears midnight, a calm surrender to the usual bustling halls during the day. Rounds ended over an hour ago, but the quick pair of footsteps was not rushing through a late shift, they were on their way to the Astronomy Tower to meet their partner and begin Professor Sinistra’s constellation project. 

Allocation of the work was all in the luck of the draw. Where one half of the class drew a name, and the other pulled the astronomical phenomenon they were to study. Lily Evans had pulled the piece of parchment on stars and constellations, and according to the project’s outline, she and her partner would be tracking Orion, Cassiopeia, Gemini, and Canis Major for the next two weeks.

The project left Lily questioning why she chose to pursue the subject after passing her O.W.L.s. Maybe it was because she has always been fascinated by the subject, or maybe it’s for the sole fact that Astronomy is one of the subjects she can discuss with her family since it relates closely to muggle sciences. Regardless, she’s not sure it’s worth the lack of sleep she’s about to endure over the next few weeks.

As Lily climbs the steps of the Astronomy Tower, her heart thunders in her chest with anticipation about who her partner will be. The class is small, with only ten students, but she didn’t bother to hang around and discuss ‘who had who’ at the end of class. She had a meeting with Professor McGonagall about her Head Girl duties and couldn’t be bothered to worry about who her partner was. 

But now, after finding out through Mary that she’s been paired with Remus and Sirius pulled Benjy Fenwick’s name, Lily is nervous. Rumblings at dinner also confirmed that Calliope Forsythe of Hufflepuff was disappointed that she chose Bridgette Marls’s name instead of James’s, leaving Lily sweating the remaining possible outcomes. She doesn’t want to jinx it by getting her hopes up that James may have pulled her name out of the cauldron, and she’s mad at herself for wanting it so desperately.

We already spend enough time together with our Head duties. Plus, we’re friends now, so we can hang out whenever we like...just not alone.

Her last thought is only a partial lie, considering they’re ‘alone’ when creating schedules for rounds, but it never fails that some fifth or sixth-year students are always barging in to use the Prefect’s lounge to study, ruining any potential chance for either to make a move. Even when they’re on rounds, their conversation is constantly interrupted by catching a couple in a broom closet or empty classroom. 

Lily lets out a huff of frustration as she recalls the last time, when she was sure he was about to ask her to Hogsmeade, but then there was a loud clatter from a room up ahead, breaking the moment. So really, it’d be ideal if James were her partner for this project. She’s sick of the song and dance they’ve been playing since the start of term and wants nothing more than to find out whether he still fancies her or not. After all, it’s only a matter of time that some other girl will swoop in, causing his devilishly handsome smile to be trained on them instead.

As Lily approaches the foot of the stairs leading up to the observation room, she checks her watch. 11:59. Right on time. She holds her breath during the entire stair climb, and only when she rounds the corner to the dimly lit area with one singular candle on the table to take notes, does she see him. He’s leaning over the table, the light illuminating his messy black hair as his glasses slip down his nose. The sleeves on the white shirt of his uniform are rolled up to his elbows, exposing the sinewy muscles of his forearm as Lily stands there, getting lost in a daydream that finds those arms wrapped around her body.

The hoot of an owl in the distance snaps her out of her thoughts as she takes a few steps closer.

“I hope you haven’t started without me.” 

Lily’s light chiding gets James’s attention as a wide smirk dons his face. Her insides tremble as her heart pounds faster in her chest.

“How can I get started if I don’t know what we’re supposed to be looking at,” he remarks, eliciting a nervous laugh from her chest.

“Yeah, sorry for not sticking around after class. I had another appointment.”

“Well, I hope my reveal isn’t too much of a shock.”

“Better you than Mulciber or Avery,” she teases. “Why didn’t you ask Professor Sinistra what topic I pulled after you gave your information and got our timetable?”

James walks around the table to join her as she pulls out the project guidelines. She assumes he would have known what they were studying, considering everyone had to check-in and get their schedules from Professor Sinistra. Depending on what the group has chosen, their research times varied.

“Because I thought we were going for the surprise factor,” his cheeky grin matches the lightness in his voice. “Besides, I figured it’d be another excuse to pore over the parchment in close proximity.”

Lily searches the space next to her to see just how close James is before meeting his gaze. She becomes dizzy from the scent of his cologne, with hints of cinnamon and sandalwood invading her sense of smell. If she gives in to temptation now, they won’t accomplish anything on their first night.

Work first, play later.

Strengthening her resolve, Lily makes a swift turn and heads for the telescope. “We’re responsible for tracking the four constellations that are listed on the first page. I’ll see which one I can find first and we’ll go from there. We can take turns tracing, and observing if that’s alright with you.”

“Sure, I’ll get the parchment set up,” James agrees.

Lily’s not sure, but she thinks she may have heard a hint of disappointment in his tone. She pushes the thoughts aside and peers into the massive telescope that’s bolted down in the center of the room. It doesn’t take long to find Jupiter, and from there, she’s able to see a handful of the stars that make up Orion. The belt is the most prevalent as she takes mental notes to transfer on the paper.

Settling into a steady hum of working together, the pair take turns between the telescope and table, making light work of the night’s observations. When Lily checks her watch again, she realizes they’ve finished with time to spare. She wanders over to the railing, and even though she’s spent the better part of the last ninety minutes studying the stars, she finds herself looking up to the sky once more. Only this time, she’s stargazing with only the naked eye. 

She feels James approaching before he arrives at her side, gazing up at the twinkling stars among the backdrop of black and midnight blue.

“We make a pretty good team.” Her voice is soft as it carries through the air between them.

Lily’s exhaustion is prevalent as her eyelids become heavier, but she can’t be bothered to move away from James’s side. Not yet, anyways.

“You haven’t gathered that from our flawless round schedules and seamless Prefect meetings we’ve run so far as Heads?”

Lily can’t help the smile that creeps across her lips. He’s playing into her words in the exact way she was hoping for. “Of course, I’ve noticed. I was just thinking out loud…” she trails off, hoping she’s got him hooked and wanting to know what else she’s about to say.

“About what?” Barely a second passes before the question leaves his mouth.

She drags her teeth over her bottom lip as she looks up at him. Here goes nothing.

“Just about how our teamwork might work in other respects, too.”

His lips part as she hears a sharp intake of breath. “Evans,” he warns as he inches ever closer to her face.

“Potter,” she challenges right back.

They are mere centimeters away from each other now, and it’d be so easy to close the gap between them. James seems to have frozen in front of her as she finds herself leaning up on her tiptoes to press a feather-light kiss to his lips. She pulls away, not wanting to push her luck.

When he doesn’t move after she pulls away, her heart sinks. Lily grabs her bag and turns to head back to the common room. Clearly, I was mistaken.

“Sorry, I just thought—” but she never finished her apology.

Her foot grazes the top step of the staircase before a warm, strong hand wraps around her wrist and pulls her back, where she hits a wall of muscle. Her lips are on his again, and this time he’s kissing her back as her arms snake around his shoulders and her foot lifts off the ground of its own accord. 

James Potter is kissing me!

The moment only lasts a few moments before they pull apart, their breathing heavy under the starry night.

James breaks the silence after a minute. “So, er, Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Lily grins as she backs away slightly, leaving him standing there as she heads toward the stairs for the second time. She flashes a ‘come and get me’ look. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[itsbenedict]

I just finished hosting a 15-person game of Mafia for some friends. One tradition we have for these games is that every death is accompanied by some themed narration, so for my game I opted to spice it up with some art on top. Had to draw it real quick since I didn't know for sure who was going to die next until it happened.

The game's theme was "JoJo's Bizarre Adventure", with the hidden subtheme that all the roles (stands) were named after They Might Be Giants (@tmbgareok) songs! A list of their powers, links to songs, and a recap of the game under the cut.

01) Mogis - 「Flo Wheeler」

02) TD260 - 「Working Undercover For The Man」

03) JGH27 - 「Good To Be Alive」

04) Raya - 「Stone Cold Coup D'Etat」

05) KK / Sahrimnir - 「Thinking Machine」

06) Spontaneous Combustion - 「The Statue Got Me High」

07) Leviwulf - 「Push Back The Hands」

08) DarkFalco - 「I Am Alone」

09) Deli064 - 「Doctor Worm」

10) Fedaykin - 「Letterbox」

11) Surge - 「I Am Alone」

12) Wikxen - 「Put Your Hand Inside The Puppet Head」

13) Minby - 「Where Your Eyes Don't Go」

14) Bel - 「(She Was A) Hotel Detective」

15) SnakeInABox - 「By The Time You Get This」

Bold roles were Jotunheim (Mafia), normal roles were Johnsburg (Town), and italicized roles were third parties. (Jotunheim is the realm of giants from Norse mythology! The mafia were, in fact, giants! And the town's job was to figure out who might be giants! And the two sides were Jo and Jo! JOKES!)

「Flo Wheeler」 was a town role with a power that was pretty dangerous to the user- if anyone happened to be watching or tracking when a kill took place at night, Mogis would look like they'd visited the target that night in addition to whoever actually did. It could potentially be used to catch a mafioso in a lie, but otherwise it was more of an obstacle for the town to overcome- a miller-type role.

♪ You can't do the time, therefore you didn't do the crime ♪

「Working Undercover For The Man」 was a third-party role working for the Speedwagon Foundation to perform a threat assessment. TD could win with the town, but could win and leave early if he could guess all the names or powers of every other stand in the game. He could scan a name every night, to help that along.

♪ Planning midnight raids / On our unsuspecting fans / While the roadies rig / The video surveillance van ♪

「Good To Be Alive」 was a spin on the usual town doctor role- normally, a doctor can target a player and prevent their death if they would die that night. But... JGH couldn't actually prevent deaths- just fake it. The dead would become ghosts, who couldn't vote and couldn't be killed but were still allowed to talk as if they were alive.

♪ Hello leg / such a shaky leg / Just barely more than decoration ♪

「Stone Cold Coup D'Etat」 was a third party with an unusual win condition. They had to recruit a certain number of people to a private side-chat- and then make sure all those people got killed. Plus, she could redirect anything that happened to her at night to her recruits. If the recruits figured out what she was doing and got rid of her, they'd get a boost to their power.

♪ The bark now commands the trees / The queen is overruled by the bees ♪

「Thinking Machine」 was a town role with a mysterious purpose that didn't seem to make much sense at first. Sah would get, every morning, a strange series of numbers and letters of uncertain origin. It was information, somehow, but how to use it?

♪ Tape has brightening arm connect (Wait, that didn't make sense.) / Self-paint lever itching does! (That made even less sense!) ♪

「The Statue Got Me High」 was a mafia power. As the song describes, the victim is enthralled by the monolith and forced to obey its commands, until their eventual death. That is, Spont could recruit a player to the mafia, but they'd die one night later- and if he wasn't careful, he could die and his recruit would flip back.

♪ And now it is your turn (your turn to hear the stone and then your turn to burn) / The stone, it calls to you (you can't refuse to do the things it tells you to) ♪

「Push Back The Hands」 was a passive ability that caused anything that would happen to Levi- a nightkill, an execution, some other power- to be delayed by one day, giving him some time to react. He'd be told who it was that targeted him, so going after him as mafia was risky.

♪ Screeching tires but never a collision / Endless day without a sunset provision ♪

「I Am Alone」 was a weird one. See, DarkFalco, who was mafia, didn't have a stand as such. She was the stand- and she was the stand of Surge, who was town. They were linked together in everything, meaning the mafia had to work to keep Surge alive on top of their own people. She could send messages to Surge at night to mess with him, though.

♪ Before you fire I should inform you / One of us is a double ♪

「Doctor Worm」 had no real special abilities. His ability was to be pretty good at playing the drums, a power that had absolutely no relevance in a game of Mafia.

♪ I'm not a real doctor, but I am a real worm I am an actual worm ♪

「Letterbox」 was a mafia ability that let Fedaykin pick another player, and offer that player a chance to deliver a private message to one other player of their choice. He could see the "secret" communications, though, and once per game he could edit the message before delivering it.

♪ I'll never know what you'll find when you open up your letter box tomorrow ♪

「Put Your Hand Inside The Puppet Head」 is a classically mafia ability, but in the hands of a town player: the ability to force another player to vote for another. Normally the manipulated person isn't allowed to say what happened, but there was no such restriction here- confusion's no good for the town.

♪ Memo to myself: do the dumb things i gotta do: Touch the puppet head ♪

「Where Your Eyes Don't Go」 let Minby pick someone else to watch him at night. If anyone visited him to target him with an ability, the person he designated would be told the names of those people. A nasty trap for the mafia, as long as Minby doesn't pick a mafioso to share the information with.

♪ Where your eyes don't go, a part of you is hovering / It's a nightmare that you'll never be discovering / You're free to come and go / Or talk like Kurtis Blow / But there's a pair of eyes in back of your head ♪

「(She Was A) Hotel Detective」 was a very powerful town role- Bel was the cop, and could scan another player's alignment at night, plus track or watch them. Except... not directly. She couldn't scan players- she could scan hotel rooms, and if other players didn't check into the hotel at night or give up their room numbers, her information was useless.

Here are the room numbers, in order: Levi (1) Snake (2) JGH (3) TD (4) Spont (5) Sah (6) Deli (7) Fed (8) Minby (9) Falco/Surge (10) Raya (11) Wikxen (12) Mogis (13).

(Oh, and Thinking Machine's codes were actually encoded versions of her results, and Sah would get a weaker version of her power if she ever died.)

♪ She's got her ear to the walls / And she's tappin' the calls / If you've got a secret, boy / Forget about it! ♪

「By The Time You Get This」 imbued its wielder with the incredible powers of... an estate lawyer! Which meant Snake could leave a will behind when he died, naming another player and casting a vote on them from beyond the grave the next day.

♪ By the time you get this note / We'll no longer be alive / But our skulls are smiling still / At the thought of things to come ♪

So! Here's how it all shook out.

Day 1: The first day is always kind of a tossup, since no one has any information yet, and everyone's just trying to verbally stir the pot. Levi soft-claims his role right out the gate, warning town not to try targeting him or else. Mogis is executed, casting a vote on himself to save the town the trouble of dealing with Flo Wheeler.

Night 1: Spont uses the statue to recruit Wikxen, at the same time that Wikxen forces Snake to vote for Levi. So, now the usually-scum power in the hands of town is in the hands of scum for real. Bel scans room 3, and learns that its occupant is innocent. Raya recruits DarkFalco, and accidentally recruits Surge alongside her, to her surprise. JGH tries protecting Levi, to test if his claim was a bluff.

Day 2: Levi tries to push JGH on the basis of having targeted him last night, but everyone agrees to wait and see if Levi actually dies first. Votes circle around Wikxen and Raya for suspicious-seeming defensiveness on Day 1, and ultimately, when it seems like Wikxen's about to be executed, a small group of players flip their votes at the last minute and vote Raya out while she's asleep and can't defend herself. Rude! She was poised to win the game for herself and the town, since she'd convinced Falco that the mafia would benefit somehow if they were all recruited.

Night 2: The mafia kills Minby- and Minby opts to tell have Fed watch him, wasting his power. Lucky for town, though, Bel happens to scan room 8, confirming Fed is mafia since he volunteered his room number. Wikxen's coat contains a furnace where there used to be a guy.

Day 3: Wikxen forced Snake to vote for J, making him look bad- but Sah begins sharing his bizarre results from Thinking Machine, and Bel confirms that they're a log of her detective power. Then she points out that Fed is mafia, and the town falls in line behind the accusation with Sah to confirm.

Night 3: Spont uses the statue to recruit Bel, to keep any more problematic scans from ruining them. Bel, before being recruited, scans room 10, though- and now the town knows there's something funky with Falco and Surge, because Sah gets the results and knows what they mean. Due to their mismatched alignments, though, the encoded version is still misleading, so there's wiggle room. TD scans Spont and learns his role name.

Day 4: Spont concocts a daring scheme. He has Bel lie and claim to have received an incriminating result on him- so that Bel will be caught in said lie when Sah produces his own results. The plan is to frame Bel, who's a dead girl walking anyway, and clear Spont's name going forward. But the town talks themselves into explaining away the contradiction- even when TD reveals Spont's stand name, and Spont denies it outright and claims 「Combustible Head」, a fake vigilante (town nightkiller) role instead, the town explains away that, too. After a few more people claim, TD260 has completed his mission- his correct guess wins him the game and he leaves. Spont cleverly excuses himself by claiming that TD lied about his role to get him to claim his "real" one. Afterwards, the town ends up executing Deli064 instead, for some reason- poor Doctor Worm!

Night 4: The evidence vanishes from Bel's charred and smoking chair- because JGH tries to protect her at the same time the mafia are killing him! Bel is a ghost now, and the town never finds out her alignment.

Day 5: Bel not dying poses a problem for the mafia, because Spont was supposed to prove his own innocence by pretending to kill her! The mafia tries to misdirect by having Bel lie again, claiming to scan room 10 when she actually scanned room 6, Sah. Ultimately, though, the town is able to coordinate behind killing Surge and Falco, which- because they're linked- is a compromise option that both parties are happy with (when perhaps they shouldn't be).

Night 5: Since Bel is technically dead, Spont recruits again, grabbing Sah and removing the threat of scans entirely. If he'd recruited Snake instead, they'd have won on the spot, since only his will-vote prevented them from winning instantly due to outnumbering the town. We move on to a somewhat redundant...

Day 6: It's now down to five players- Spont, Sah, and Bel vs Levi and Snake. The mafia technically outnumber the town, but Bel's vote doesn't count, and Sah's going to burn the next night- so the town can still win by forcing a tie and then using Snake's By The Time You Get This power to place a vote on Spont. But that's if they can figure it out and get on the same page, and... they don't. There's no way there could be three mafia still alive, so the mafia are able to sow total confusion and ultimately get the town all voting for Bel... who's a ghost, and can't vote or be executed, which the town doesn't know because JGH died before he could fully explain. The execution defaults to Snake, and the mafia win the game.

[snowdice]

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 67]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30

Got many things to do today, though I do have a meeting in a bit over an hours, so there will be a break.

Chapter 31

Logan waited for a while after Patton left to check on Virgil, but the two never resurfaced. It was odd, Patton would usually remember to come back and get Logan or at least tell them where they were. With a sigh, Logan climbed to his feet to go find them. It took him a while to weave his way through the maze of bushes to them especially because they were suspiciously quiet (Well, suspicious for Patton. Virgil was often unnervingly quiet when alone.) Luckily, he knew the bushes enough after all of these years not to get lost and managed to find the two after a few minutes.

“Ah,” he said, immediately identifying the reason for Patton disappearing.

 “Logan!” Patton said, his voice excited, but also quieter than normal. “We found a kitty!”

“I can see that,” Logan responded, taking a step closer. The cat hissed at him in response. The hissing was so intense and wild that he’d suspect the thing was feral if it wasn’t happily on Virgil’s lap having had it’s head in Patton’s lap before Logan had approached.

“No,” Virgil told the animal as though it could understand words. “That’s Logan. Be nice.”

The cat still glared at him and swished it’s tail back and forth threateningly. Virgil pet the top of it’s head and it broke eye contact with Logan to purr.

 Patton seemed delighted by the purring, reaching to stroke under the thing’s chin carefully. “We should give her a name!” Patton said.

Virgil frowned. “I thought her name was Ghost Kitty.”

“That is ‘Ghost Kitty’?” Logan asked skeptically. From what Patton had said about that cat, it was terrified of people and no one could ever get near it, even him. Now it was in Virgil’s lap?

“But that was a temporary name,” Patton said, “for before we officially met her. Now we have to give her a real name.”

“Do not give it a name,” Logan said. “You will get attached.”

 “How do you name a cat?” Virgil asked.

“Do not name it,” Logan said.

“You give them names based on their personalities, how they look, or even just because it’s a cute name,” Patton explained. “Like, remember Mittens? I named her Mittens because she has white fur and black paws!”

Virgil looked at the cat. “She’s completely black,” he said.

Patton hummed. “So, we could give her a name based on that like Midnight or Shadow.”

“Those are fine,” Virgil said.

“No, no,” Patton said. “I’m just giving you examples. You get to name her yourself.”

“This is a bad idea,” Logan said.

 “Just throw out some names,” Patton said. “Anything you can think of.”

“Uh,” Virgil said. “Knife.”

“…Just Knife?” Patton asked.

“Nightmare.” Virgil seemed to think about it. “No, that’s mean.”

“How about things you like?” Patton suggested.

“Alfredo?”

Oh no, Logan thought, he was worse than Patton at cat naming.

“Good start,” Patton said. “Logan, do you have any suggestions.”

“Cat,” Logan said.

“Real suggestions,” Patton scolded.

Logan sighed and thought for a moment. “Aphrodite.”

“Catphrodite!”

Logan glared at him. “Helena.”

“Helenpaw.”

“Claudia.”

“Clawdia.”

“Persephone.”

Patton smiled at him, cheerfully.

“…Damnit!”

Patton turned to Virgil again. “Like that! They don’t even have to be serious. Like, uh, you could name her Madam Fluffywuffykins the Great!”

“Do not name her that,” Logan said, scrunching up his nose.

 Logan sat on the ground, the cat eyeing him, but no longer hissing. Logan gently guided them towards more sensible names despite Patton trying his hardest to drag them into stupidity.

Virgil still didn’t quite get it. He mostly tried to name it after foodstuff, and often not even appropriate foodstuff such as “Corn” and “Acorn Squash” and “Sandwich” and occasionally would drop in semi violent ones such as “Razor,” “Nightshade” and “Void.” Patton suggested names like “Fluffers,” “Bobette” and “Darling” as well as some that were puns. Logan tried to direct them towards more sensible ones like “Salem” and even went so low as to suggest the contrary “Snowball.”

 It quickly seemed to become less about actually naming the cat and more of a game. Patton had taught Virgil about playing with cats and had even gotten out a ball of yarn he cared around for his crafts. Both Virgil and the cat seemed to find endless entertainment with that. Logan hoped Patton had another ball of yarn that color because, he was never going to get that ball back.

The barrage of names fizzled out into naming things around them like “Leaf” and “Bush” until they stopped suggesting names altogether. Patton and Logan sat back and watched Virgil play with the cat.

 Logan watched as they stopped playing suddenly and Virgil and the cat squinted at each other. “Marisol,” Virgil said, pulling the name out of nowhere. “That’s her name.” He said it with a certainty that was surprising considering how he’d treated the naming process with confusion and caution earlier. If Logan did not know better, his tone of voice would indicate that the cat, or Marisol he guessed, had gotten bored of them coming up with stupid names and decided to tell him her actual name herself.

The cat made a sound and batted at Virgil’s face without claws to grab back his attention.

 He turned back to it and bopped its face with a finger in kind. It attacked his finger, but in a clearly playful matter as it still did not extend it’s claws and its teeth did not draw blood.

“That’s a great name, Virgil,” Patton said.

“Much more pleasant than any that Patton suggested all afternoon,” Logan said. He received an elbow to the side for his quip.

“A pretty name for a pretty kitty,” Patton said, scooting over to where Virgil was sat and attempting to pet Marisol’s head. Marisol, however, was too keyed up and batted at the hand.

 “I love you too!” Patton said.

Logan rolled his eyes, but he had long since resigned himself to watching the two of them play with and coo over the cat for the rest of the day.

Eventually, though, it started to get darker. Even after Logan pointed this out, it still took over an hour for them to relent and leave the bush maze to go to the door. The problem was of course, that the cat had managed to grow very attached to Virgil in the last few hours and she followed them all the way to the door with manipulatively heart breaking mews.

 “You’ve got to stay out here,” Virgil said, when they got to the castle door. He pet her ear softly and she shoved her head into his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anywhere to put you.” He sounded horribly sad about that fact and Logan felt himself shift uncomfortably. “I basically live in a closet and Logan doesn’t like cats in his room anyway.”

Logan immediately felt unreasonably guilty, probably more so because Logan did not think Virgil was trying to make him feel guilty. “…Bring the dammed thing inside.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “What?”

“It will get cold soon anyway,” Logan said.

He frowned at Logan from where he was crouched. “But you don’t like fur in your room…”

“I will have to find a potion that works,” he said with a sigh, “and we’ll have to say it’s mine to the guards and Father since it will be staying in my room, but it is yours in every other way. That means you are going to feed it, clean it, and clean up after it.”

Virgil nodded immediately and swooped Marisol up in his arms. The cat went without complaint. “Thank you!” he said. “I love her.”

“I know you do,” Logan said, already regretting it already. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to even consider recanting the offer considering how happy Virgil seemed to be. They had a cat now, he guessed.

  Chapter 32

“What are you doing?” Helen asked a few minutes after her son walked into the kitchen and started looking around as though he were trying to find something. It was a few hours into the afternoon, and she and a few workers were already prepping for dinner.

“Uh,” Patton said. “Have you seen Virgil?”

“No,” Helen said. “Why.”

“Er… Logan and I sorta, lost him,” Patton said. He was wringing his hands anxiously. Helen put down the knife in her hand.

“What do you mean you lost him?” she asked.

“Well, see, we were trying to teach him how to play hide and seek, um, but then we didn’t think to tell him that he eventually had to come out if we didn’t find him, and now we haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

 “He didn’t know what tag is?” she asked. That was just one more thing to add to the list of why Helen worried about Virgil and where he came from. Every morsel of information she’d managed to wring from Patton despite his evasions made her lists of concerns grow larger, even little things like him not knowing about simple childhood games. Actually, thinking of concerning things having to do with Virgil. “Wait, so he hasn’t eaten lunch.”

“Um, we don’t know that,” Patton’s mouth said while his eyes said ‘no.’

“He needs to be on a consistent diet, especially when he’s still taking the malnutrition potion,” she scolded.

 “I know, Mama, I know,” Patton said. “I’m trying to find him. I’d kinda hoped he’d gotten hungry and snuck down here. He probably wouldn’t want to risk being caught stealing food though.”

Helen grimaced. Yet another concerning thing.

“Wait! I have an idea, I’ll be right back.” Patton turned and ran out of the room. Helen frowned at the space he’d been and finished chopping the carrot on the cutting board in front of her. If it had been any other person in the castle missing, Helen wouldn’t have worried, but she had literally never seen Virgil without Patton and/or Logan by his side. Even when he’d gone to help Jeff can some fruit, Logan had reportedly hung around to read a book.

 Considering that Logan had never exactly been clingy even with Patton, she imagined that either Virgil asked, or Logan thought he should stay with him for his comfort. So, she was surprised that he was apparently hidden away somewhere in the castle where neither of the other kids could find him.

Still thinking about this, she walked over to the entrance to the cellar below the kitchen where they stored most of the vegetables, planning to grab some more carrots. She was confused for a moment when she heard movement from deeper in the pantry. She reached over and touched the panel near the door that controlled the magic lights.

 The newly illuminated figure startled as the lights came on, whipping around to stare at her with wide eyes.

“Virgil?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, taking a step back.

“It’s fine,” she said immediately, “but what are you doing here?”

He considered her for a long moment, but apparently, she passed some sort of mental test, because he relaxed, at least as much as he’d ever relaxed in her presence. “Where are we?” he asked.

Her brow knit together. “The cellar under the kitchen,” she said, “You don’t know that?”

He shook his head.

“The only entrance is from the kitchen.” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him go through the kitchen at any point.

 “No, it’s not,” Virgil said. “There’s a tunnel.”

“A-a tunnel?” she asked. Actually, taking a closer look at him, he seemed a bit grimy. He had dust all over his front and dirt on his nose. She thought he might even have a couple of cobwebs in his hair.

“Yep,” he said.

“Where’s the tunnel?” she asked.

“It’s right over here,” he said. He took a couple of steps and pointed to the ground. There was an open square hole there that clearly had been made a long time ago but which she had never noticed in all of her time working here.

 “How did you find this?” she asked.

“We were playing hide and seek,” Virgil explained. “Logan said I could hide anywhere inside the castle. I hid on top of a dresser upstairs in some unused sitting room. There was a hole in the wall above it, so I climbed into it. Then, I crawled a little bit and it let out into a hidden passage in the walls. I wandered around in it until I found another hole in one of the walls. I thought it was a way out, so I squeezed into it, but it took me to a different hallway where I found an old room. There was a different hole in that room that had probably been covered by something because it was in the floor but whatever it was had rotted away. I crawled though it into a tunnel and came out here.”

 She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his explanation. “Well, it sounds like you went on an adventure,” she said, “but Patton and Logan have been trying to find you. You missed lunch.”

He tilted his head at her. “I know. I was supposed to hide.”

“Yes,” she explained, “but you are supposed to come out at some point if they can’t find you for things like food.”

“Oh,” he said.

“They probably should have explained,” she said. “For now, why don’t we get you something to eat? You must be hungry.”

Virgil frowned. “But I missed lunch.”

“You can still eat even though it’s not in normal hours,” she said. “You could even if you had made it to lunch.”

 “Really?” he asked, he looked tragically confused by this offer.

“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “In fact, I insist you get something good to eat right now. How about I made you a grilled ham and cheese sandwich? Maybe some cookies too!”

Virgil titled his head. “You are Patton’s mother,” he stated.

Helen laughed softly. “He gets its all from me,” she said. “We should probably go find him and tell him you’re okay. He was worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry him,” Virgil said with a frown.

“I know,” Helen said. “It’s okay. He’ll probably laugh when he figures out where you’ve been, and Logan will interrogate you all about the secret passageways.” He seemed happy about the prospect of seeing his friends. “Come on, let’s go upstairs for a bit,” she said.

  Chapter 33

Patton’s mom had already made Virgil sit down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and had handed him a sandwich by the time Patton barreled into the kitchen, Logan coming after him at a more sedate pace.

“Virgil!” he said, sounding surprised and relieved.

“Patton,” Patton’s mom scolded. “No cats in the kitchen.” Patton had brought Marisol in with him and had let her go as soon as he’d seen Virgil. She immediately plodded over to him and hoped onto the table to sniff at his face in greeting.

“But she’s the princess!” Patton argued.

“No,” Logan said.

 “Yes, she is!” Patton said.

“The stupid cat is not a princess.”

“Don’t be mean to your little sister, Logan.”

“I regret every life decision that has led me to this point.”

While Logan and Patton were distracted squabbling and Patton’s mom was distracted watching them squabble, Virgil tore off a bit of the ham in his sandwich and offered it to Marisol. Marisol gracefully took it from his grip and ate it.

“So, this is Logan’s new cat I’ve been hearing about?” Patton’s mom asked.

“Indeed,” Logan said, his lips thinned. He and Marisol were mostly amicable when alone with just them and Virgil, but Patton had a habit of cooing over the kitten and needling Logan into being irritated.

 “Mmm, yeah,” Patton’s mom said. She glanced over at Virgil right as Marisol basically slammed her face into his chin in a bid to get pets. “Your cat.” She shook her head. “But Princess Kitten or not, I do not want fur in dinner,” she said.

“Sorry,” Patton said, honestly not sounding sorry at all. Virgil was always a bit surprised when the insolent shrug garnered nothing more that a scowl that did not reach Patton’s mom’s eyes. “I thought she could help me find Virgil, but you already found him.” He turned to Virgil. “Where have you been all day?”

 “Found a tunnel,” Virgil said. He had to use one hand to hold Marisol back from his sandwich as he took another bite, but then gave her a bite of cheese.

“You found what?” Logan asked.

“There’s a tunnel under the cellar,” Virgil said. “It goes to an old closed up room and also to a set of secret passageways.” It was a bit of a security risk honestly, though clearly no one had used it in years by how dirty it was. He did plan to go back into it and make sure the sprawling tunnels didn’t go to anywhere more dangerous like the royal wing.

 “A closed-up room?” Logan said. He could see a bit of curiosity already building in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Where the door used to be seemed like it had been bricked over.”

“Really? Can you show me.”

“Sure,” Virgil answered.

“Ah, perhaps we should be a bit more cautious about climbing through random tunnels we don’t know the stability of,” Patton’s mom said.

Logan’s frown edged on a pout.

“Talk to your father,” she said. “I’m sure he can get someone who understands these things so you can safely investigate.”

“It was safe enough for Virgil,” Logan pointed out.

 “No, Logan.”

He sighed but seemed to concede. That was another strange thing about living here. By all rights Logan didn’t have to obey anyone except the king, but he often listened to those around him, not just the adults but Patton as well. It was interesting though it sometimes made the hierarchy hard to figure out. Virgil did sometimes stress out about the hypothetical situation where he got conflicting orders from two people, and he wouldn’t know which one to obey. So far it hadn’t been a problem luckily. They always seemed to work it out amongst themselves in some give and take social interaction that was a bit too complex for him to understand.

 Patton walked over to where Virgil was sitting. “I’m glad your safe,” he said. “We should probably put a time limit on hide and seek in the future, so you know when to come out.”

“Did I win?” Virgil asked. He’d honestly forgotten they’d been playing a game until Patton’s mom had asked how he’d found his way into the cellar.

Patton laughed. “I’d say so, yeah,” he replied. He leaned over to kiss Virgil’s forehead, but drew back immediately with a pinched expression. “You are… very dirty,” he said, rubbing his mouth.

Virgil nodded. “Your mom made me sit on a tablecloth,” he said gesturing to the fabric she’d laid over the chair.

 Patton snorted out a laugh. “We’ll get you into the bath when you’re done eating and you can tell us all about your little adventure.”

“I would also like to hear about your discoveries,” Logan said. “Though you are not allowed to sit on the bed until you do not have spider webs in your hair.”

Patton’s eyes widened and he jumped away from Virgil, startling both Virgil and Marisol. The latter hopped from the table onto Virgil’s lap. “Spiders?!”

Virgil tilted his head at him in confusion.

“He isn’t a fan of spiders,” Logan informed him, his voice amused at Patton’s reaction.

 Apparently deciding that she was no longer startled, but more confused by the noises Patton had just made, Marisol jumped out of Virgil’s lap to investigate, wrapping her way around Patton’s legs. He bent down to pat her back, though he still looked a bit startled.

“Your cat, huh?” Patton’s mom asked Logan once again. Virgil studied her. She had apparently missed Logan mentioning that he allowed Virgil on the bed. Or perhaps Logan was correct in his insistence that it wasn’t actually that big of a deal here. Virgil would rather not test that assumption, however, so was glad that it had been distracted from by Patton’s outburst.

 “Creepy, crawly death dealers,” Patton mumbled into Marisol’s fur, having picked her back up. Virgil made a note to not inform Patton of all of the different types of spiders he’d seen skittering around in the castle walls today. Maybe he’d talk about them with Logan once Patton left. He’d probably be interested. Virgil had seen some he’d never seen before! Logan probably could even help him figure out what their names were. “You’ll protect me, won’t you kitty?” Patton asked Marisol.

She made a little ‘burrrr’ sound in response, which Patton seemed to take a confirmation.

“Aw thank you, baby! Such a good baby.”

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Virgil popped the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. Patton’s mom turned away and grabbed a plate stacked with cookies. She handed it to Logan. “Take these, and please get the health hazards out of my kitchen,” she requested.

Logan took them without complaint. “Come on, Virgil,” he said. “Let’s go get you clean.”

“We’re going to need so much soap,” Patton said.

Virgil looked down at himself. “I can go outside and get most of it off if you get me a bucket of water,” he offered.

“Virgil, it’s below freezing,” Logan said as though that had a baring on what he’d just said. Logan sighed. “No. Bathtub.” Virgil shrugged. “Honestly,” Logan said. He turned with the plate of cookies in his hand, clearly expecting to be followed. “You’re not going to catch your death pouring a bucket of water over yourself in the cold when there are literally over a hundred perfectly good bathtubs in this castle. For goodness sakes.” And well, Virgil wasn’t going to complain.

  Chapter 34

Patton, to be completely honest, was not all that interested in the room that Virgil had found. Beyond just the fact that it would definitely have creepy crawly death dealers in it, he really did not understand the intrigue. If it had just been him, he probably would have just let a castle worker deal with it, but it was not just him. Logan was ecstatic with the prospect of investigating a secret in the castle. People who didn’t know him well may not believe it considering he spent most of his time with his nose in a book, but he was an adventurer at heart.

 Thomas had been easily swayed into finding someone to help tear down part of the wall into the secret tunnel near the room (so no one would have to crawl through the kitchen cellar like Virgil). It had taken a few days, however, and Logan was practically bouncing off the walls waiting. Virgil, despite having already seen the room before, also seemed excited, though if that was because of his own curiosity or because he was just excited that Logan seemed so exited remained to be seen.

“They are silly, aren’t they,” Patton asked Princess Marisol. He was laying on his stomach on Logan’s bed and Princess Marisol had just put her little paw on his nose.

 “Yes, I agree,” he said. “Don’t they know that we’re literally going to be 2 feet away from the normal hallway?”

“It is not silly,” Logan defended himself. “Any number of things could go wrong.” He sounded far too excited about the prospect of something going terribly wrong. “The tunnels could cave in and block off the exit or there could be some unknown pathogen in the air.”

Patton did not ruin his fun by mentioning that Logan’s dad had definitely basically baby proofed the tunnels for them ahead of time. Instead, he just said, “Don’t let Virgil hear you say that sort of thing. It will just stress him out.”

 “Yes, yes, of course,” he said, waving off Patton’s concerns as he mulled over two different weird green planty things (potion ingredients, Patton assumed) before setting one aside and sticking the other in his bag.

“So silly,” Patton cooed at the cat. Logan let out a huff but did not choose to say anything about it this time.

Speaking of silly, Virgil came back from Logan’s bathroom then, and Patton tried not to giggle. “Is this right?” Virgil asked, sounding and looking confused. Logan, in his overexcitement about adventure had commissioned Virgil an outfit that actually fit. Said outfit, however, very much made it look more like Virgil was going on a safari instead of a two-foot detour from the normal castle hallway.

 “Almost,” Logan said, “Here, let me.” Logan started straightening everything out and flattening the collar, reminding Patton of an overbearing parent on picture day. Virgil accepted the fussing without protest. It was adorable. Well, the outfit was ridiculous, but still, adorable. “There,” Logan said. “I think we’re ready to go now.”

It was about time. Patton was sure people were already waiting for them downstairs. Patton got up and patted Princess Marisol on the head. She looked up at them with interest.

“You can stay here, sweetie,” Patton told here. She seemed to consider it and then hopped down from the bed to go rub up against Virgil.

 Patton guessed she was coming. It didn’t matter too much since Logan had given her a magical collar that allowed her to open most doors in the castle and everyone knew she was the royal cat now, so if she decided she wanted to come back to the room and nap, she could. (She was very aware of the power she held.)

She pranced happily by Virgil’s side all the way down the steps to the first floor of the castle. She was such a good kitty.

Well, she did hiss angrily at everyone who came too close to them, but still, a very good kitty.

 Patton did lean down and pick her up so they could actually talk to the man waiting for them at the large hole in the wall. Logan went to talk to the castle worker while Virgil half hid behind Patton. He was clearly listening very intently to the conversation however, at least more intently than Patton was. Patton was busy shaking his head fondly.

“Yes, yes, Princess,” he said to the cat. “I know we do not trust the strangers, but I promise this stranger is perfectly safe.”

“How do you know?” Virgil asked.

“His name is Chester and I’ve known him since I was 9.”

 This seemed to slightly alleviate Virgil’s suspicion, but Princess Marisol still seemed antsy. Patton really needed to start slowly introducing the both of them to more people.

Logan finished talking with Chester after a few moments and it was time to climb through the hole in the wall. He wished he saw in the tunnel whatever Logan with his excited eyes and bounce to his step obviously saw. Or even that was more comfortable in the dark closed in space as Virgil obviously was. As it was, Patton’s nose scrunched up at the thought off all of the spiders that could be living everywhere in the secret tunnel, but he pushed through.

 The entrance to the tunnel had been made only a little bit from the room Virgil had mentioned and Chester had led them through it after only a couple of seconds. As Patton had suspected, the room was already lit up and probably cleaned a little bit by the people who had cut into the wall, not that he was complaining.

Virgil was still clinging a bit to Patton’s shirt, though it seemed to be less out of anxiety at this point and more out of a desire to stick close. He was peering around curiously at the lit-up space. He probably hadn’t seen much of it in the dark when he’d been here before.

 Yet, his curiosity was nothing compared to how excited Logan seemed to be. Now Patton may have not been interested in the room itself, but he was entertained by how interested Logan was and was happy to encourage that.

“What do you think this place is?” he asked Logan.

Logan hummed contemplatively, eyes looking around. “Well,” he said. “It’s a bedroom clearly, and old. Considering the location it is in in the castle, the size, the decorations, and it’s likely age, I’d imagine it was a bedroom of a royal family member. This used to be the royal wing three royal lines ago.”

 “Bearing that in mind, there are a couple of likely possibilities for the origin of the room as well as the reason it was sealed up, but we will need to investigate more in order to come to an actual conclusion.” He had already placed the bag he’d brought on the ground and was going through it, pulling out things that Patton did not recognize. He also got a piece of paper and sat on the floor to start to sketch.

“What are you doing?” Virgil asked.

“I’m sketching the floorplan of the room,” Logan said. “I will then put a grid on it so we can investigate while being sure that we aren’t missing anything.”

 Virgil seemed uninterested in this part of the adventure, instead electing to go poking around by himself. Princess Marisol squirmed out of Patton’s arms to go follow him. Patton swore that he only looked away from those two for 5 seconds, but the next thing he knew he heard metal clicking against metal.

“Oh,” Patton said, eyes wide when he saw what Virgil was fiddling with. “Honey, you probably shouldn’t touch…”

The old but fancy looking chest that had been at the end of the remains of the bed creaked open. Virgil sneezed as a cloud of dust puffed out of it. “Huh,” he said studying the contents. “There’s a skull in here.”

 “Oh, I don’t like this adventure anymore,” Patton commented.

Logan was on his feet within moments. “Let me see,” he said eagerly.

“What if it’s cursed?” Patton pointed out.

“Then I’ll just break the curse,” Logan waved him off. “Oh, it’s just a horse skull,” Logan said, sounding disappointed. “And also what seemed to be potion ingredients. Though they seem very fresh considering the state of the room.”

“Maybe we should get someone else to…”

Logan already had both arms inside the chest and was pulling things out of it. “This chest must have some sort of stasis effect to it.”

 He started pulling things out to look at them before setting them on the floor with no caution. “Well,” he said, “that answers the question of what this room is.”

“It does?” Patton asked.

“Ah, yes, between the horse skull and the potion ingredients, this is obviously the bedroom of Princess Marianne Elicia. She was the third child of King Simon IV and was quite the fan of horses.”

“…So she kept a horse skull in a stasis chest in her bedroom?” Patton asked.

“Of course,” Logan said. “Back when her family was in power, magic was outlawed and had quite the stigma against it, but she ended up learning magic and become quite proficient.”

 “It’s debated what exactly happened when her father found out about her activities. Some sources say that she was executed silently by her father, but others say she managed to escape with the head of the stables but not before putting a curse on the country of Prijaznia. That is until she or one of her bloodline sits on the throne, every royal line will end in madness and blood by the 5th seated monarch before an heir is born.”

“Isn’t that something you should be worried about?” Virgil asked.

Logan shrugged. “It’s just a myth,” he said. “Besides I’m 6th in the line, so there really isn’t any concern.”

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“There are a lot of interesting things in here,” Logan said, still focused on the chest. “Not to mention the books. We’ll have to be careful with those though since they don’t appear to be in stasis.”

Logan pulled the horse skull out and set it on the floor making Patton wince.

“Marisol no!” he said as Princess Marisol immediately went to go sniff at it. He swooped her up in his arms. “How long are we staying in this creepy room?” Patton asked.

“Patton, we just got here,” Logan said.

“We just got here and already found a skull!”

“Yes! Exactly!”

Patton groaned into Princess Marisol’s fur even as she tried wiggle away to go back and investigate the skull. This was going to be a long day.

  Chapter 35

Logan was surprised when he woke up alone in bed. He’d grown to anticipate waking to a smaller body unrelentingly clinging to his in the past couple of weeks. Confused he sat up and peered around his bedroom. He wouldn’t have seen Virgil with the way he melted into the darkness if it he hadn’t heard the sound of purring coming from near the window. He could just barely make out a dark blob shifting up and down at the cat kneaded at a different blob sitting mostly hidden behind the thick curtain.

“Virgil?” Logan questioned. “What are you doing?”

 “It’s snowing,” was the answer.

“That is not an answer,” Logan grumbled at the ceiling. With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed. It was a bit chilly in here, he thought. The temperature must have dipped suddenly and intensely enough that the runes keeping the castle at a warm enough temperature hadn’t caught up yet. He pulled one of the blankets off of the top of his bed to wrap around his shoulders as he approached the window. There wasn’t much light outside, the stars and moon covered by clouds, but there were some lanterns lit for the night guard who patrolled the outside. “Oh,” he said in surprise. “It’s really snowing.”

 It had been colder but not quite cold enough for snow to stick the day before, so it came as a surprise when he saw snow was piling up quite high to the point where familiar paths outside his window had disappeared.

“I don’t like it,” Virgil informed him.

“Why not?” Logan asked.

“It’s cold,” Virgil answered. It was clear in his tone that in Virgil’s opinion ‘cold’ was a horrible insult to the concept of snow. Logan quirked a half smile and his attention was drawn to the fact that it was quite cold right here close to the window.

 Frowning, he pulled at the blanket around his shoulder so he could wrap it and his arm around the lump that was Virgil. He brushed the boy’s hand when he did so and found it was like ice.

“You’re freezing!” Logan said. “How long have you been by the window?”

“I dunno,” he replied.

Logan was already tugging at him. “You need to get back in bed,” he said.

Virgil obeyed the pulling at his arms even as he frowned. “I’ve been colder than this before,” he said.

“That actually doesn’t make me feel better,” Logan replied dryly as he shooed him towards the bed.

 He took the thicker blanket that usually stayed folded at the end of the bed and pulled it up over Virgil before climbing into bed beside him.

“There,” Logan said, rubbing Virgil’s arms through the fabric of the sweater he wore to bed. He was glad he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt at least. “The runes for heating the castle should catch up within a few hours, but until then this should do. Assuming we don’t sit by the freezing window for an undetermined amount of time.”

“I don’t like the cold,” Virgil told him.

Logan sighed. “Then why did you sit by the window?”

 Virgil shrugged and ducked his head a bit. Logan reached out to grab his hands to help him warm more but was surprised when one of the hands was much warmer than the other. He found his fingers were clutching a crescent shaped stone: the protection charm they’d made. Logan knew that he kept it in his pocket most of the time, but he didn’t normally see him holding it like this. It was warm to the touch, of course, indicating the safety of the room around them.

Logan looked over his face. “Are you…” he said. “Scared of the snow?”

 “I don’t like the cold,” he said once again.

“You’re scared of the winter,” Logan concluded. He looked at Virgil who was far too small for his age and seemed surprised at every casual act of kindness. It was clear that his basic needs were far from being met before he came here. Logan had to wonder what winter usually meant for him. His experiences were doubtlessly very different from Logan’s own. “That makes sense,” he acknowledged, “but you don’t need to be scared of it here. The castle is always perfectly warm and safe in the winter and Mr. Deknis and Ms. Heart work hard during the other seasons to make sure we have plenty of food. There is nothing to fear here.”

 He did not seem convinced.

“You don’t even have to go outside if you don’t want to,” Logan promised. “The castle is plenty big if you’d like to stay inside all winter long. It was made for the winter even without the magic devices that keep it warm. We have fireplaces and well insulated rooms even if those that ends up failing.” Logan pulled open the hand that had the protection charm just to transfer it to his other hand to warm it. “Though, while no one would force you to go outside, the snow isn’t always bad.”

“Yes it is,” Virgil said, his voice sure.

 “Not all the time,” Logan insisted. “Some people love the snow.”

“They’re stupid.”

Logan laughed. “It can be fun for a while with the right equipment if you have someplace to get warm again afterwards. Royal duties slow down during the winter and Patton tends to come up with all sorts of games for both the inside and the outside to pass the time. He’s particularly proficient at snowball fights, at least against me.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Play fighting,” Logan answered. “Like pillow fights, but snow.”

“I’ll stick with the pillows,” he replied.

“And then there’s a hill to sled down on the western side of the castle, and people like to build snowmen along the path.”

“What are snowmen?” Virgil asked.

 They’re temporary statues made out of packed snow,” Logan explained. “Typically, they’re made of three different sized balls of snow: the largest being the base and the smallest the ‘head’ though there are some variations. After building them one typically decorates them with different articles of clothing and objects found lying around. It’s usually sticks and rocks for the face and then things like extra hats and scarfs for decoration.” He smiled softly. “When my Pa was alive, we used to steal my Dad’s crown and fanciest robes. Sometimes Pa would steal it right off of Dad’s head and we’d run away. We’d find a secluded area of the castle yards and build the biggest snowman we could as quickly as we could before we got caught. He’d usually end up letting us keep the robes, but we’d have to give the crown back since some of the metals in it would rust when wet.”

 “That sounds…” Virgil’s nose twitched. “fun if you take away the touching snow part.”

Logan laughed. “It is fun,” he said. “Even with the touching snow part. Though, I admit that some of the ability for it to be entertaining does come from the fact that we could warm up afterwards with ease. You’ll enjoy Patton’s mother’s constant offering of hot chocolate during the season even if you never go outside, I’m sure.”

“Hot chocolate?” Virgil asked intrigued. His dark eyes shone brightly in the little light coming through the window. It was clear he could guess something about the drink just by the name and enjoyed the implications.

 Logan smiled fondly. “It is a hot drink,” he explained. “It’s a warm drink made out of milk and chocolate. I can get you some to try in the morning.”

Virgil nodded, eyes still wide with interest.

“For now, we should sleep though,” Logan said. “Are you warm enough? I can get more blankets.”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Good,” Logan said, reaching up and adjusting the blanket over them once more, tucking it around Virgil a little bit for good measure. “Goodnight Virgil,” he said.

“Goodnight,” he replied softly. Logan reached under the blankets to grab the hand that was still slightly chilly from the window between his own. Virgil’s eyes slipped closed after a moment as he nuzzle his face into the pillow. At some point they both drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 36

Thomas had already been well aware that winter was on the way, but he and the rest of the castle occupants had been surprised at how intensely and suddenly it had come on. Most things were ready for the winter, but not all of them had been initiated. The fireplaces that took some pressure off the castle heating runes were cleaned out and ready, but they hadn’t been started yet. The stables for different animals on the grounds had been checked over and staff assignments had been made, but most were still in far out fields. Staff that went home for the winter months had been dismissed, but there were a few stragglers that would have to be helped home before things got worse.

 He’d gone out to the main stable to talk to the three workers that were the heads of different areas of animal husbandry to make sure a plan to get everything to where it needed to be soon was in place. It took a while to figure out considering that they’d expected a little more time before the first major snowfall. Thomas also asked them to make sure all of the workers’ homes were in good enough condition for the weather. Ranch hands typically had homes on castle grounds but not in the castle themselves since they needed to be close to the animals. Thomas knew at least half a dozen of those who spent most of their times out in the fields were the type to forgot to maintain their homes because they preferred camping amongst the animals in the summer months and then would be in for a bad time when snow began to fall.

 There should be enough extra rooms in the castle if they needed a place to stay until repairs could be done.

Those conversations took a good couple of hours, before Thomas was satisfied. Before trudging back to the castle through the still falling snow, he made a point to stop at one specific horse stall in the main stable. The horse turned his head to see Thomas when he stopped in front of his stall and puffed out a rather disaffected snort before sticking his head over the gate so Thomas could pat his nose. “Hello, Mr. Apples,” Thomas said.

 The horse seemed to conclude he’d tolerated Thomas’s petting enough and ducked his head to nudge at his torso. Thomas rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes,” he said. “I brought you an apple. Some things never change.” He reached into his pocket to grab the red apple he’d brought the white Arabian. “At least you don’t bite me anymore.” He paused, apple slice in hand and eyed the horse’s nose suspiciously. “Do not bite me,” he said even though he hadn’t felt the animal’s teeth in a decade. It would be just like Mr. Apples to wait until his guard was down.

 After a bit of scrutiny, he offered an apple slice. It was snatched out of his hand and there was a loud crunch as it was bit into.

“It’s snowing out,” he told the horse. The horse seemed to roll his eyes at the statement of the obvious. “I’ll remind again that if you run out in a snowstorm, I’m not running after you, so you’d be out of luck.”

Mr. Apples snorted.

“You’re old now. You’d probably not survive long enough for people to find you. Besides, you blend in with that white fur of yours. They’d probably walk right past you a few times.”

 He went back to nosing for treats as soon as he finished his first and Thomas sighed, pulling out another apple slice. “What are they not feeding you enough?” The gusto with which the horse snatched the apple slice was a very clear answer. “Well, we both know that’s not true.” Thomas fed the horse a third slice of apple when he was done with his second. “I have to get back to the castle now. Don’t be a devil horse.”

Mr. Apples threw his head a bit, splattering apple smelling foamy spittle all over Thomas’s front.

“Understood. Have a nice afternoon.”

 He left Mr. Apples in his stall then, knowing he’d be well cared for no matter how ill-tempered he could be at times. He’d been a king’s horse once, after all, no matter that said king had been dead for more than a decade now.

Winters were hard.

Winters were the times when things always slowed down at the castle, where royal duties were often thin. There were a lot of memories in winter.

The trip back to the castle was not particularly long, but it was also not particularly pleasant. The snow had not been cleared away considering it was still snowing which meant his feet and legs were wet and cold by the time he made it to the nearest castle door.

 He wasn’t sure if, when he entered, the castle heating runes had started to work in earnest or if he’d just been so cold that any measure of warmth was appreciated, but he was relieved to be out of the snow either way.

He decided to check up on the progress of the castle staff lighting the fireplaces. With any luck, they’d be lit already, and he could warm up even more. That in mind, he headed towards the main foyer where the largest fireplace in the castle sat to take off the chill brought in by the large front doors.

 The main foyer was bustling with activity when he snuck in along the sides, giving the guards stationed around nods as he passed. The main fire in the room was burning brightly, though only one of the two smaller ones near the side exits from the room was lit. The other one was still being set up with safety mechanisms. It was good progress and assuming other areas of the castle were being set up as efficiently, he assumed they’d all be set up by nightfall.

He’d need to go check around to be sure, but for now, he walked up to the main fireplace to warm his hands.

 He’d gotten into the habit when he was younger to every so often glance upwards. There had been a certain stable boy who had a propensity for climbing trees. These days, he usually found nothing when he did so, often not even consciously noticing that he’d turned his gaze momentarily skywards. Yet, today, he was startled out of his own idleness by dark brown eyes looking back at him from a small ledge in the shadows high above him.

He froze as he met the young boy’s gaze. Virgil seemed as surprised to be caught as Thomas was to have caught him.

 Slowly Thomas raised one hand and waved to the boy. He slunk back into the shadows at the acknowledgment. If Thomas peered hard enough, he could see a shadow stretch up towards the third-floor balcony in the darkness and disappear over the railing.

Interesting boy.

Thomas found himself smiling despite the oddity. They still had not found out much about Virgil. He would speak to Jeffers about many things apparently, but often could not be redirected to invasive topics and he was still a bit skittish around Helen. He hadn’t willingly existed in a room with Thomas. Thomas hoped that changed at some point. There was something about him that made Thomas like him.

  Chapter 37

Virgil had not spent a lot of time out of Logan’s room. What little time he had spent outside of it was either with Patton and/or Logan or tucked away in secret corridors he found in the walls where no one would stumble upon him. Yet, here he was willingly in a, well, not public by any means place, but one that was still more exposed than he was used to being in. Somehow, he was managing to not care at all.

It was helped by the fact that both Logan and Patton had been in the room at the start, but they had gone off to go… somewhere. Food sounded like it might have been the reason.

 He liked food, and usually he would have been all for going to get some, but between them promising to bring him back some and the fact that he was never going to move ever again, he’d decided to stay.

Princess Marisol seemed to be the only other rational being in the whole castle because she had also not moved since discovering the contents of this room. She was currently laying on his chest purring happily.

The fireplace was a wonderful invention. Now, Virgil had, of course, warmed up by a fire before when it was cold, but this was much different. There was a grate that blocked off the fire a bit keeping it from burning the person in front of it and there was a plush rug right by it, perfect for laying down on. Someone had known what they were doing when designing this room.

 He didn’t even care that the king had access to this sitting room as well as Logan.

…

Okay, so he did care a little bit, but he was ignoring that. He was probably busy this time of day anyway, right?

…

He really didn’t want to run into him after being caught watching the castle workers set up the bigger fireplaces. Kings probably didn’t like people sneaking around watching things from the shadows even when they didn’t know that the person sneaking around was literally sent to kill them.

Princess Marisol must have had a sixth sense for his anxieties (or he’d just started breathing faster and disturbed her) because she stirred a bit.

[little-lemon-lattes]

The Set Up

🌜Zelda Spellman x fem! reader

—— Word count: 2.2k

—— Warnings: none, just a little bit fluffy 🥳

—— Summary: You are left home alone with Zelda one weekend and you’re full of nerves! She has been nothing but an ice queen since you met, and now seems like the perfect opportunity for her to tell you exactly what she thinks of you while everyone else is gone.

It was just the two of you in the house this weekend. Just Zelda, just you.

It shamed you to admit it, but when Hilda had told you that she was going to test the waters in staying the whole weekend with Dr C- followed closely by Ambrose and Sabrina’s revelations that they, too, would be spending the next few nights with their respective partners – it had been hard to contain the strange bubbly feeling that had ignited in your belly. Only you and Zelda in that enormous house, for two whole days and nights?! It would be an understatement to say that it was making you nervous.

Zelda Spellman was a formidable woman, to say the least. It had been close to three months now since Hilda had extended the Spellman hospitality to you, offering you a large and handsome room, along with all the usual luxuries everyone had grown so jealous of the Spellman cousins for. Hilda had never explained why she did it – you expected she had her reasons in there somewhere – but you were now, and in every essence, a part of the Spellman family. And it was no exaggeration to say that from almost the moment you had walked through their colossal front door (nothing but a rucksack in hand), all signs had pointed to Zelda’s utter disapproval of you.

You were desperate to gain even a simple ounce of her obviously hard-won trust. It was important to you that she see the magnitude of exactly how thankful you were for her hospitality at a point your life of Hades-bottom. You delivered blackcurrant-nightshade tea to her study, as she worked in her dressing gown to the late witching hour; astral travelling to the most obscure countries, to collect the newspapers for Zelda’s morning reading; and, on the odd occasion, hexing anybody you heard whispering unsavoury things about her in the hallways of the Academy.

And yet, for what? What had it all earned you?

Nothing but calculating scans and narrowed eyes.

Thus, you thought it seemed only natural to be nervous, alone in the mortuary with her. To be honest, it wouldn’t have totally shocked you if Zelda took the opportunity to finally tell you exactly what she thought of you, away from the ears of the other Spellmans. What the pair of you didn’t know, however, was that this was exactly what these ‘other Spellmans’ had in mind when vacating the house for that weekend.

At first, there had been an awful lot of plain staring coming from Zelda; and this alone had been enough to pique the interest of her sister Hilda. Hilda hadn’t been sure, at the time, if anyone else had noticed much out of the ordinary. But, having been by Zelda’s side for numerous centuries now, it almost immediately struck Hilda as strange the lack of comment supplied from her sister. She had always known Zelda to be a reasonably opinionated, and if she were caught looking for longer than usual at anything, it would be certain it was because she had something to say about it. Hilda supposed it was because her sister was unaware in those times that she even had an audience to provide commentary for. The younger Spellman sister had eventually cooked up a competition in her head of how many times a day she would look up from her little world at the stovetop and catch Zelda watching you. At first, it was all stoically and quizzically, as if analysing exactly what your every move meant; but later changing into something more girlish and slightly wistful, often with her cheek resting in the palm of her hand. Hilda would never dare mention it, of course. She suspected that Zelda wasn’t even aware that she was doing it.

Another such thing that Hilda suspected had emerged from her sister’s subconscious was the large percentage of conversation with Zelda that your name seemed to find its way into. Whether the younger witch was asking her if she wanted her pumpkin roasted, or her thoughts on the newest appointment of Transylvania’s High Priest, talk would always return to how illusive you were.

“ Do you mean to tell me, sister, that you don’t feel it every time she is in this damn house?”

“Erm... feel what, exactly, Zelds?” Hilda had peeped.

“I don’t know what it is, Hilda, you tell me!” she had exclaimed, “ some form of heaven-bent , wicked energy. Like electricity, one might say. Yes. I’m almost certain that y/n is slowly but surely cursing the entire mortuary, because – Hilda – it seems I can’t escape the nauseating feeling in my stomach, no matter what wing of the house we are in!”

Hilda had to draw on all the power of the mortal and immortal realms she could muster in order to keep a fit of laughter at bay. Her sister was definitely the smartest and most impressive witch she knew, but this little bout of oblivion where you were concerned totally provided some much-needed comedy to Hilda’s day. Her certainty at what was going on was only confirmed further, when Sabrina had come to her with interesting reports of a mystery master of hexes striking in the hallways of the academy.

“ - and naturally, I had to do a bit of digging,” Sabrina continued,

“ Naturally,” her aunt had agreed.

“ So I took it upon myself to do a bit of… ‘Q and A’ with the victims, let’s call them. And, once I’d persuaded them to loosen their tongues a little bit, a pattern begin to emerge: they all admitted to having a little word or two about Aunt Zelda. Interesting, huh? But just wait for it, Aunty, here’s the kicker. Guess when the hexing started?”

“Hmmm... I don’t know, my love, when?” Except, she was pretty sure she did know.

“ Three months ago! Right about the time that-“

“- Y/n started teaching at the Academy.” Ambrose finished for her, as he materialised in the kitchen next to Sabrina and their aunt.

“ Forgive my interruption, cousin, Auntie. Coincidentally, I was looking for Sabrina to discuss with her whether Satan had finally removed my frontal cortex, or if I wasn’t the only one who had noticed the abnormal, puppy-like devotion for Aunt Zelda that constantly radiates from y/n?”

“YESSSS!” The women shouted together.

“ Ah good. My cortex lives to see another day.” Ambrose remarked.

“Well, to be fair though,” Hilda started, “I do think it’s partly because the poor dear feels as if she has to move Hell and Earth just to melt away even a teensy bit of that awful ice that Zelda has gone and put up around herself.”

“Yeah, what is with that? I swear I haven’t seen her so closed off, like... EVER. And what did y/n ever do to her?” Sabrina remarked.

“Why, isn’t it obvious, cousin? She’s put a spell on dear Aunt Zee. And not the kind that can be cast, if you take my meaning.”

You had finally arrived home for the evening. Shrugging your midnight-blue coat off and replacing it on the coat rack, you called into the open abyss of the house: “It’s just me, Zelda!”

Hilda, Ambrose, and Sabrina had all left that morning, meaning it was just you, Zelda, and Uncomfortable Tension left in the house.

There was no answer to your call, and it felt pretty chilly in the house on that midwinter’s evening. Pulling the pins from your French twist, you flicked a lazy hand at the hearth. Orange flames sprung to life where seconds before had been merely dust. You decided that Zelda was probably busy in her study, and wanted to be left alone. You would take a plate of food to her later. So, you began climbing the stairs to your room on the third floor, directly above the Spellman sisters’, unwinding your scarf as you went. Letting it dangle open around your shoulders, you turned the corner of the second floor staircase toward your chambers. Your eyes slid past the sisters’ door out of habit. As you raised your foot to continue your ascent, you stopped. Zelda was sitting on the edge of a meticulously perfect-made bed that you could only assume was hers, staring glassy-eyed into space. The expression on her face made your heart hurt for a moment; it looked as if she were in slight pain. She was gently biting her lip, and the outer corners of her eyes were tilted down. She fiddled nervously with her fingers.

You backed up a few paces, coming to rest outside her door. Crossing your arms, you leant your head against the frame, waiting to see if she would acknowledge you. But, it seemed as if she had no idea that you were even there.

“Zelda...? Is everything alright?” you ask tentatively. Suddenly, her obvious anxiety began to make you anxious. Though you seemed to have broken her from her trance, because at your words, her eyes flickered to your place at the doorframe, and her expression morphed into something a little nauseous. It was evident that something big was on Zelda’s mind. You had crossed the room in seconds to her, and sank into the mattress next to her.

“What is it? What’s wrong? I know you don’t trust me, Zelda, I get that... but just know that you can tell me anything you feel you need.”

The Spellman let out a tiny puff of air, as if she had been holding her breath. There was silence for a minute as you watched her. It was clear that was carefully choosing her words.

“It’s just...” she tried to begin, “I just... I have had something playing across the many facets of my mind lately, y/n, and-“ she sighed, “I have become briefly overwhelmed by exactly how unattainable to me it is.”

You were shocked. Something unattainable to THE Zelda Spellman? Impossible. And you told her as much.

She smiled at you ruefully.

“Unfortunately, y/n, I think this time that you are wrong.”

You frowned.

“Why? Why would I be wrong? Why is this thing so out of your reach?”

Your mind, as keen as ever, was desperate for answers.

Zelda swallowed, and glanced at you. You replied with an inquisitive raise of your eyebrows. She inhaled, expelling everything in her breath out: “Because my prime came and went centuries ago. I’m nothing but an old crone!” She buried her face in her hands.

That was it; that was all it took for your heart to break into a million pieces.

All reservations out the window, you took her hand fiercely and turned your body to completely face her. Your knees were touching hers.

“That is the most utter nonsense, you hear me? You’re easily the most powerful, awe-inspiring, shining witch in any given room, plus the fact that you’re definitely the most stunningly beautiful woman I’ve ever seen! You can-“ Your words were beginning to catch up with your brain, and it seemed that everything you felt for her that you had desperately tried to quash was deciding to make an appearance too, “-you can... do anything you put your mind to.”

The sentence ended on nothing more than a whisper. Shit. Well, that wasn’t exactly the way you would have appreciated being exposed.

You had convinced yourself that Zelda was something of a role model to you and that you were ongoingly gracious for her hospitality- when in truth, she had probably been the least hospitable to you of the family. That explanation had been easy to tell yourself- she was just SO great that you wanted to be her! Not be with her, right? Wrong. The time for a taste of reality had come.

Zelda looked gobsmacked. She frowned a little, as if trying to work something out. After a brief pause, she asked: “Does that mean what I think it does?”

You swallowed.

“What exactly do you think it means?”

The other woman looked a bit meek for a moment. You could tell that her inherently Zelda-ish fear of being wrong was toying with her.

“That maybe... it’s not so out of my reach after all?”

The way her voice raised at the end of the sentence had the astounding effect of transforming her into a scared little girl in a millisecond. Could she BE any more vague, though? She wasn’t addressing your slip of the tongue at all!

Oh hold on.

Unless...?

You chose your next words very carefully.

“That’s precisely what I’m saying.”

It seemed that you had thrown her! She let go of your hand and looked away from you to her feet, all while biting her lip again. She dug her nails into her palm.

When Zelda looked up at you again, she seemed ten times braver than she had moments ago, when she had looked to the ground.

“Would I be overstepping my place if I were to do this,” the High Priestess slid her hand up your thigh, “or this,” she placed her hand on your cheek, “or this?”

She finished by leaning in so close that your foreheads were touching.

By Hecate, she took your breath away. You stilled for a few seconds, just to really see her this close, and to admire every single pore of her being. You could feel Zelda’s laboured breath on your skin, dripping with want.

Finally, you spoke.

“Not at all.”

And it was you who closed the space between the pair of you, smiling against her lips. ✨

[spicynamericano]

Perception. - mk lee

sypnosis: you meet a stranger in the park, who helps you prepare for your interview with renowned author, mark lee.

word count: 2.1k

genre: fluff, strangers to friends!au, author!mark x reporter!reader

a/n: i impulsively wrote this in the wee hours of the morning because i can't stop thinking about mark lee and his poems! btw, this is my first time posting an au on this platform, but i do have ongoing twitter fics (written in eng/fil)!

I had just finished my late night shift at the office and was on my way home from work. Being a field reporter is not an easy job. I have to work my butt off to always stay up to date on the latest news and make sure to grab even the rarest exclusives.

I have to travel to basically anywhere, just to gather the most accurate information for the daily primetime news. And even if work is done for the day, I would usually go overtime to make sure no single detail is left out for tomorrow’s reports.

My workplace isn’t that far from home, or what I call home now. Moving into my elder sister’s old apartment was not a hassle. It was actually quite a blessing since I always used to stay over whenever we visited the city. I really thank the heavens that her place was near my workplace. Imagine the struggle of moving in and out from scratch. Actually, I wouldn’t even dare to imagine.

I would usually ride my bike to and from the office, but since I was running a bit late earlier in the morning, I decided to take the bus. Convenience at its finest. But it’s late now. A fifteen minute walk back home won’t hurt, right? Besides, I needed a breather. A walk in the nearby park would suffice.

It’s midnight and of course, the park is empty. Although Seoul is alive 24/7, I really like how some areas still have that laid-back vibe. I walk to the swings and place my bag on the ground. I do wish someone would push me right now. I just wanna be free from all the hectic stuff I’ve been doing lately.

But no, the quick rest I thought of didn’t stop me from going over tomorrow’s duties. I scan my little, brown notepad and check the work I have yet to accomplish. I mostly finished them before I got off work, but there is one more that I needed to do for tomorrow: interview Mr. Mark Lee, the author of the best-selling Late Night Scribbles.

It’s a collection of poems and prose he’s written over the course of five years during his travels to different cities as a renowned travel writer. His travel reviews and recommendations were something I always looked forward to reading. Maybe someday I could go on a stress-free holiday trip thanks to his advice.

I have read his book. For someone who’s trained into more technical writing like me, I could still clearly resonate with most of the poems he’s written. Not too shallow, not too deep. Though you do need to have a sense of literature in order to understand more of his deeper works. He isn’t famous for nothing.

What appalled me though is that he never showed his face to anyone, not even once. Some say he’s actually the main rapper of the world-renowned boy group NCT, since they bear the same name. I think otherwise. Well, it could be, though. Rappers do make their own lines and tell their own stories.

But I don’t think that Mark Lee would be the same person I’d be interviewing tomorrow. It’s weird because I won’t be actually meeting him face to face. He said he’d rather converse through email. Works for me since I don’t have to travel tomorrow. Thank God.

Well, let me tell you a secret. The reason I don’t think author Mark Lee is singer Mark Lee is because singer Mark Lee is actually my childhood best friend. Crazy, huh? I used to live in Vancouver when I was young until my family and I moved back to Korea during my teen years.

I don’t think he remembers me, though. But I do remember him. Our moms were practically best friends. I couldn’t say the same to us, only if he still actually remembers me.

I stretch my arms up high and bend it side to side. God, I need a massage asap. I was about to pick up my bag when a basketball rolled over and hit the tip of my loafers. A man dressed in black waves from the court, signaling to toss the ball to his direction.

I would toss it if I could but I walk over instead. Blame my poor strength and reflexes. And I obviously do not want to embarrass myself. A rough day’s a rough day. I don’t want an addition.

“Uhm, are you looking for this?” I ask the guy, tossing the ball mid-air.

“Yes, thank you…” he pauses. “uh…”

“Oh, it’s (y/n).” I introduced myself, “And you are?”

“Minhyung.”

“Well, you’re welcome, Minhyung. Good luck with your basketball practice!” I gave him a nod before finally turning back to go home.

“Wait!” he calls out. “Do you maybe wanna have a cup of coffee? There’s a nearby convenience store still open. I figured you might need it.”

Was it that obvious? I can’t imagine how stressed I look right now! He has probably seen the dark circles under my eyes. Gross.

I finally turn around and give him a smile, “You know, maybe I do need it. Let’s go?”

This man and I walk to the nearby convenience store just a few meters away from the court. It’s midnight and not many people are here. Well, just exactly like how I want it. The park can actually become full, even until 10 pm. But I guess these people also need some shut-eye. I’m actually surprised this man right here still has some energy left.

I wait outside and sit at the nearest gazebo while he buys instant coffee for the both of us. He arrives with three in hand. Does he like coffee that much?

“You’re really gonna drink two?” I ask him curiously.

“It’s actually for you,” he says as he hands me one of the cups. “I feel like you’re going to be staying up late tonight.”

Well, he’s right. I am gonna be staying up late. I still need to prepare questions for tomorrow’s, or later, rather, interview. I really won’t be getting some sleep tonight. I also need to do research on him too.

“Well, I do have an interview for tomorrow. I still need to prepare as it’s a very important one.”

“With whom, may I ask?”

“Mark Lee, the author. Not the singer.”

“Oh,” he lets out a soft sigh that can be heard, even through his mask. Is he offended that I don’t think author Mark Lee and singer Mark Lee are the same?

“Why do you sound so disappointed?”

“Uh, nothing. I just remembered the book he recently released. Have you read it?”

“Late Night Scribbles?”

“Yes, that!” he answered enthusiastically. Wow, I guess I found a fan right here. He might actually help me with my interview later. I need to grab this chance.

“Do you mind helping me? I’m actually going to interview him about it tomorrow.” I gave him the widest smile, hoping he’d say yes. I normally wouldn’t do this to strangers, especially at night. But I really just need to get this over with.

“Well, as someone who’s a fan of his works. I’d like to give it a try and interpret it,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Just imagine I’m Mark Lee. Shoot your questions.”

“Hmm, I can’t be answering personal questions since you’re not Mark Lee.” I scratch my head. Damn, I can’t think of anything. My brain is not working right now! “But if you were Mark Lee, what would you want to be asked?”

“If I were Mark Lee? Well, rather than asking what my inspiration was behind the works I’ve made, I’d rather be asked on how I tried to convey my thoughts and feelings to this piece of work,” he explained, staring at the night sky.

I followed the direction of his gaze, and he’s looking at Orion, one of the brightest constellations out there. I gaze at it too while waiting for him to continue explaining.

“But isn’t it basically the same as drawing inspiration from something?” I ask profoundly.

“Not really. You can draw inspiration from anything. And you can come up with different outputs based on one inspiration. What’s important is how you’re able to connect the context of what you’re writing to the feelings you want to draw out,” he continues.

“With a single inspiration, I can come up with two completely different works based on how it’s written. The idea may be the same but the context is not.”

“Hmm, care to explain a little further?” I ask politely.

“We can use Black Socks as an example.”

Black socks are underrated

The way they connect the bottom sleeves of

my black sweatpants to my black sneakers

is just perfect

Pleasure from perfect alignment

That also goes for the ability to be parallel

with my thoughts and actions

I try to live out what’s in my mind, and keep

it consistent even when forgotten like a

working habit

A moment to think twice about what

seemed unimportant

Black socks have been making my day

these days and I knew I had to return the

favor by acknowledging them

I throw you in the bin only so that you can

be renewed again

“Black socks, literally an ordinary object that is tossed to the bin right after use. But what caught my eye is his appreciation for this mundane thing.”

“Through his words, you can tell black socks gave him comfort. He used a simple subject to convey his inner thoughts of how every little thing we don’t really recognize can actually be part of our routine, our life,” he said, looking me in the eye seriously.

“He found comfort in the most ordinary things no ordinary person would take notice of.”

Minhyung stands up and stretches his arms. He then continues, “It’s actually cool he shared this piece with us. If I were him, I’d go on and ramble how black socks could ruin my laundry.”

We both chuckle at the thought. It’s true. I hate how some of my black socks actually ruin my laundry. I dread the thought.

“It’s only a matter of perception, (y/n). Sometimes, you have to open your eyes and see, not look. Listen, not hear. Savor, not taste. Feel, not touch.”

“You know, you could actually be Mark Lee himself,” I tease him, “You do know your literature.”

I know he smiled at my remark. I can see his cheekbones rise from the edges of his mask.

“Sometimes, you just have to ask the right questions in order to get the answers you want,” he said teasingly. “You can’t get what you want if you don’t know what you want.”

For a stranger, he’s indeed a good talker. I actually learned so much from our talk tonight.

“Thanks for tonight, Minhyung. I really learned a lot.” I thank him before gulping down the last cup of coffee he bought me. “And thanks for the coffee, by the way! I now have energy to prepare for my interview later.”

“No problem. I’m just glad that I was able to help.”

I stood up from my seat and we both started walking away from the park.

“It’s 1 am. How are you gonna get home, (y/n)?” Minhyung asks worriedly. Yeah, it is pretty late. It’s a good thing I just live near.

“My apartment’s just two blocks away. I can manage,” I say with a smile, a genuine one at that. “How about you?”

“I’ll just grab a cab. Do you mind if I walk you home?” I don’t know why but I felt flustered for a moment. Surprisingly though, I just nodded my head, giving him permission to accompany me home.

We both arrive at the entrance of my apartment building and we say our last goodbyes.

“For a stranger, you really do know how to make people comfy,” I say, crossing my arms and giving him a stare, brows furrowed to tease him.

“Well, that’s just how I am,” he says while giving me a wink. Okay, now he’s flirting. Someone stop him, please. Just kidding.

“By the way, you haven’t taken your mask off the entire time except when drinking coffee. I couldn’t get a good glimpse at you since it was dark,” I explain. It’s true. Add the fact that I’m barely keeping myself awake the whole time. “I might’ve actually thought you’re an idol of some sort. Perhaps, maybe you are Mark Lee.”

“What?” he asks, puzzled and clearly taken aback. “Why’d you think so?”

“Because you share the same name with him.”

[coltsbitch]

in the stacks ~ colt grice x reader

colt grice x reader; 1.8k words; nsfw summary: if colt is going to hold you at the library with him, you’re at least going to have your fun

masterlist

Porco: cum get your bitch

You roll your eyes at the text, but you’ve already grabbed your keys and are on your way out the door. Porco means well and a text from him, even one so vulgar, actually means he’s concerned.

You find the group of them standing around a table in the furthest part of the library. Everyone else seems to be already packed up, probably waiting for you before they knew it’d be safe to leave.

It looks like Colt immediately used the freed-up space to spread out the rest of his materials, papers and books covering every inch of the table.

“Finally.” Porco exclaims when he sees you, “I’m trying to get laid tonight but can’t leave him here like this.”

“Pokko.” Pieck chides and pinches his cheek, but doesn’t object, “We don’t leave him because we care about him.”

Reiner scoffs behind her, “Well, I’m definitely leaving now. Not interested in hearing anything about Galliard’s sex life.” He hoists his bag on his shoulder, “You sure you got him?”

You smile, placing a hand on Colt’s shoulder, “We’ll be fine.”

Reiner nods before walking out with the other two, Porco loudly complaining about having to actually listen to Reiner and Bertholdt’s sex from when they shared a room freshman year.

“Hey baby.” You squeeze his shoulder, and his head shoots up immediately, eyes wide and confused.

“When did you get here?” He looks to the table, “When did the others leave?”

You smile and place a kiss on his forehead, before sitting down in the seat across from him, “You’re working too hard again.”

Colt gives you a sheepish smile, “Zeke’s letting me teach the next unit, and I just want to make sure I don’t fuck it up.” He glances down to his papers and back up to you with an apologetic look, “I really can’t leave until I’m done with this lesson plan.”

You hold up the book you brought, “I came prepared.”

Colt flashes you a grateful smile before diving back into his work.

Rolling your eyes fondly you flip open the book.

…

After about forty-five minutes you remember why the book has been sitting on your nightstand collecting dust for the last month.

Sighing you slide in your bookmark and place the book on the table, trying not to get in the way of Colt’s work.

Pulling out your phone you slouch in the chair and kick your feet out, ready to spend some time mindlessly scrolling social media. But your foot accidentally knocks into Colt’s but he barely notices.

Pursing your lips, you nudge his foot again and he keeps taking notes from one of his textbooks.

You smirk pulling your foot out of your shoe and place it on top of his. You look back at your phone, letting your hair fall strategically in front of your face so you can watch him.

He doesn’t let up on his work at first, even as you toe at his exposed ankle. When you begin to run your foot up his calf as far as his pants will let you, his eyes flick up to you.

But you’re faster and quickly look back to the app open on your phone.

You can tell he’s gone back to his work when the sounds of pencil scratching begin again. You let it go on for a minute before you remove your foot at place it in his lap.

This time he doesn’t look up, just uses his free hand to grab onto it, beginning to knead the arch like a stress ball. It isn’t uncommon for your feet to be in his lap, and you think he enjoys the mindless distraction.

It distracts you for a moment, the feel of his fingers working into the muscle. You allow it for a moment before quickly angling your foot and running your toes right along his cloth covered cock.

Colt clearly wasn’t expecting it, given he jumps in his seat, pencil creating a scratch mark across his page.

“Babe.” He growls, clutching your foot still, glaring at you. You know he’s meticulous about his notes, and a stray pencil mark will drive him insane. He starts trying to erase the mark.

He uses both hands to hold the page and erase, which frees your foot to fully rub against the growing bulge. A blush erupts on Colt’s cheeks as he involuntary cants his hips into your foot.

“I have to finish this.” He mutters, not even looking up from the erased mark he’s still digging into.

You remove your foot and lean forward, “I’m sorry baby.” His eyes jump to yours a little confused. He might have been a little annoyed by your antics, but it doesn’t mean he wanted you to stop, “Let me make it up to you?”

Colt gives you a confused look, “It’s already erased.” He looks down at his paper, clearly thinking you were referring to his work.

His distraction gives you the opportunity to slide under the table. Kneeling in front of his bent legs you place both hands on his thighs, nails digging through his pants.

Colt lets out a gasp and you grip his thighs in place as he tries to scoot away from you, “What do you think you’re doing?” He whispers harshly.

“I’m making it up to you.” Rubbing your hands up and down, “Just relax.”

“But, I, we’re in the library!” You ignore him and reach for his belt, starting at the buckle, but you’re stopped when Colt grips your hands, “Someone could see us!”

“We’re in a deserted corner and it’s after midnight.” You try to resume your goal, but Colt tightens his hold, causing you to roughly pull away, “Colt.” You say sternly.

He uses the opportunity to push his chair back slightly so he can look at you fully underneath the table.

“I’m going to suck your cock.” His entire face flushes at your bluntness, “Now are you going to be a good boy and let me? Or are we going to have to do this the hard way?”

“Yes.” He mutters.

“Yes what?” You prompt.

Colt swallows thickly, “Yes I’m going to be a good boy.”

You reward him with a smile that you know will calm his nerves, “Good. Now push in your chair and keep working. Because when I’m done here, we’re going home. Understood?”

Colt nods and scoots his chair forward, blocking his face from your view. You wait a moment until you hear his writing resume.

Returning to your plan, you unbuckle his belt, unzipping the pants. You struggle to push his pants down, Colt clearly not helping at all.

Which he’ll pay for later.

His cock is already straining against his briefs and you nuzzle your face against it, pressing wet kisses through the fabric. You smile to yourself hearing Colt’s breath hitch.

Pulling the brief down too, his cock springs and you wrap a hand around the base, squeezing tightly like one of the many cock rings you keep in a box under the bed.

Placing a sweet kiss on its head, you let your tongue peak out and run along the slit. Even the small act is proving to be too much for Colt as his leg starts bouncing.

You let it slide since you know he’s probably losing his mind being this much out in the open. You continue running your tongue around the head, swirling the tip in your mouth.

Colt lets out a groan that he quickly tries to cover as a cough. You internally roll your eyes, as if there’s anyone close enough to be curious about his loan groan.

Deciding to take pity on him, you take his cock deeper in your mouth. A grunt escapes above you. You imagine the expressions Colt could be making. Probably clenching his pencil in his fist, jaw dropped as he stares at his work trying to hide his face from anyone who might look in this direction.

You’re starting to build a shallow rhythm, tongue drawing circles around his shaft. This angle won’t allow the depth you’d like to get, so you’ll have to make up for it.

You rub one hand on his thigh, while the other begins a slow twist and turn in tandem with your mouth.

You feel Colt’s fingers cart through your hair, wrap around the strands as he tries to get you to ease up. But instead, you redouble your efforts, hollowing your cheeks and moving you mouth faster than your hand can keep up with.

A choked gasp and his leg stops bouncing, becoming rigid as his cock swells slightly in your mouth. You know what’s about to come, so taking a deep breath through your nose, you push your head as far as you can, cock brushing the back of your throat.

The table above doesn’t allow for much movement unless you want to knock your head, but you hum quietly, knowing the vibrations will send Colt over the edge. And your assumptions are correct as his cock sputters, the salty taste filling your mouth.

You really wish you could see his face now. His breathless gasps are your favorite, and the way his chest rises and falls in tandem with his pants like he just ran a marathon usually are stored deep in your memories.

You decide that if you can’t get your view, you’ll be having a little extra fun.

You grab the edges of the chair, holding yourself on his cock as it continues to empty itself. You know Colt can’t handle too much more, as his leg involuntary kicks out.

“Ahh, please.” He whines, hands coming up to your cheeks, trying to gently pull you off, “Too much.” He whimpers quietly.

But you ignore him, pulling the chair forward, letting the cum filled in your mouth leak out the sides.

It’s obviously becoming too much as digs his fingers into your scalp, but it does nothing to deter you. And Colt has to resort to pushing against the table to get away from you, chair hitting the stack of books behind him.

He’s quite the sight now that you have the full view. His face flushed a deep red as he tries to quickly stuff his oversensitive cock back in his pants, “That was mean.”

“What?” You ask, a pout on your lips. Your innocent act is ruined by the cum that is drooling from your mouth. With a finger you swipe the rest of it before sucking it between your lips.

Colt rubs a hand over his face and letting out an exasperated sigh.

Crawling out from under the table, you smirk at the way Colt watches you with trepidation. Even flinching when you use his knees as leverage to stand up.

“You finish your homework?” Colt just nods, “Good boy. You’ll get a reward when we get home.”

[jincherie]

tentacledipity | six

➛pairing: jimin x reader ➛genre: alien au, space au, soulmate au, wanted au, smut, light angst ➛rating: m ➛words: 9k ➛warnings: cheeky shenanigans on the outskirts of the palace grounds, smut, vaginal fingering, light nipple play, squirting,light dirty talk, light angst ➛notes: I cannot believe this one long scene is fucking 9k, I’m out of control. Anyway! Here’s the relief you’ve all been waiting for!! There aren’t any tentacles yet but it will be worth it when they finally arrive FJBHGHV. p.s. this does have a read more!

This tale starts, as any good fiction does, with a girl crash landing on a foreign planet. And, like any good fiction, it follows a theme of serendipitous happening, and tentacles. Behold, serendipity and tentacles— or dare we call it…. tentacledipity.

— posted; 30.04.2020 // ↞ prev. || six || next ↠

In the entirety of your life, you’d probably been truly nervous approximately… three times. 

The first time was when you were a child. On a trip to the store with your guardian at the time, you’d wondered off to the section that had all of the rows of sweets and candies in clear boxes with scoops so that you could make your own mixed bag. Even when young, you were apparently still very self-indulgent at your core, and a little too quick to entertain the urges flitting through your gut. Urges that were also a little too quick for your brain to catch and filter them. You loved candy, or more specifically you loved Purple Planets, something like a gobstopper that changed flavours with each layer of the candy that wore down in your mouth. These little candies were the equivalent of magic in your eyes, and the second you caught sight of them in that row you wanted one. Of course, you’d wondered too far from your guardian and they weren’t nearby for you to ask them. That was when you got the urge, the sinful little whisper in the back of your mind that maybe you could just sneak one—taking a single candy couldn’t hurt anyone, could it? You quickly decided that no, it couldn’t, and reached in and swiped one of the orbs with nimble hands. You threw it in your mouth straight away, and when you looked up you met eyes with a cranky-looking older woman that had evidently been staring at you the whole time. She’d leaned over the boxes and whispered to you, “You’re going to go to jail now. The guards are on their way.”

Understandably, you’d run away to find your guardian after that, too young and trusting of adult authority to realise that woman was just being nasty and old. You’d been so nervous while leaving the store, clinging to your guardian, that you’d nearly passed out. Of course, no one was waiting to arrest you outside the store like you feared, and once you were on your way home you decided you hated old people because they’re mean and liars.

The second time you truly felt nervous was when you were leaving your home planet for the first time. By that point you’d become more than disillusioned with Earth, but still… you worried that leaving would be a decision you’d regret, and that the life in store for you beyond its atmosphere wouldn’t be anything like you hoped and dreamed. You were also, understandably as a first-time flyer, nervous that something would go wrong as you left the planet and the ship would blow up, or something along those lines. That, of course, didn’t happen—and you quickly decided to never be nervous about anything like this again because you really didn’t like the feeling. 

Which brought you to the third time you’d ever felt decidedly nervous—which, incidentally, happened to be right now.

You were standing outside Jimin’s room, impressed with yourself that you managed to find it but unable to enjoy the pride for the nerves currently rioting in your stomach. Why you were nervous, you couldn’t quite pinpoint—you were reluctant to even attempt it because you had a feeling that you weren’t going to be too fond of the reason you unearthed. 

You had no idea what he’d called you here for – possibly part of the cause for your nerves – and so hadn’t known exactly how to dress. It was a hot, humid night though, something that persisted even despite the breeze that filtered through spacious halls and bare windows. So you’d simply worn one of the singlets you’d brought with you to this planet (a nice change from the usual high neckline of kelkie dress) and some of the loose, satiny pants that have slits up the side of the legs, all the way to just below your hip. You’d assured yourself it was a practical choice and not just one you made because your most base instinct is to seduce a certain alien.

You also had to do some guesswork on what was meant by ‘midmoon’, and went with the assumption that it was like midday but for night time—so midnight. You really hoped you weren’t too wrong with this one because if you were late you had a very strong feeling that Jimin wouldn’t let it go for a long time. Which was something you decidedly didn’t need, considering how pissed he’d seemed earlier this evening. 

This, you’d realised, was probably a big factor in the rare appearance of your nerves—apart from the fact that Jimin had never been truly angry at you before, you also had no idea what had pushed him so far earlier that he looked so pissed. He was angry and had called you to be at his room at midnight and you had no idea why. You decided that just this once you couldn’t blame yourself for being nervous, especially when you recalled how many times you’d joked about finally making the kelkie snap. You sincerely hoped that this wasn’t karma, but you weren’t feeling too optimistic about it considering how much she’d been riding your ass lately. 

A while ago you’d turned your gaze to the window in the hall that opened onto Jimin’s gardens, wanting a distraction and finding it in the luminescent foliage that glows beneath the moonlight. You didn’t realise just how out of it you were, standing there staring into the untamed beauty of Kilkea’s flora, until a voice sounded beside you and you honest to god almost jumped right out of your skin. 

“You’re on time. Good, I won’t have to track you down.”

“Holy FUCK, Jimin!” you whirled around, hand flying to your chest and wide eyes finding him quickly in the almost-dark. Your cheeks heated at the squeak you’d let out in fright before, and then further at the way the alien’s eyes were boring into you, dark and swirling. His gaze raked across your collarbones and then up the length of your neck before it settled and met your own, a trail of prickling heat rising in its wake across your skin. “Please don’t scare me like that, humans can die of fright, you know.”

His brows rose, the intensity of his eyes lightening slightly and allowing you to breath. “I did not know,” he murmured, taking a step closer and sending your nerves haywire once more. “I will keep it in mind, petal.”

You tried not to watch his mouth as he spoke, but his pillowy lips proved too much for you to resist, especially when he was this close. Swallowing, you tore your eyes away and attempted to get some sort of control back in this situation.

“So, uh…” You began, trying to take a step away as discreetly as possible. You weren’t as successful as you might have hoped, his eyes tracking the movement easily. “Why did you call me here? At this time? I’m sorry about the whole, uh… thing, earlier. It wasn’t on purpose, I promise. That bastard Seokjin kicked my stool—”

Up until you mentioned Seokjin, Jimin’s expression remained so neutral that you might have been inclined to believe that he’d forgotten, or at least forgiven, the incident entirely. As soon as the other male’s name fell from your lips, though, something like irritation flitted across Jimin’s features. As soon as you noticed it, you snapped your mouth shut; you decided you probably shouldn’t push your luck too much tonight. You know, for survival reasons.

“There is something I have to do,” he said, cryptically. His brow quirked and in the next second he was turning on his heel and beginning to stride away. “And since you made such a mess of helping out earlier, I figured that you may as well make yourself useful where I can see you. Come, this way. We’re going outside the palace.”

You were confused and also kind of turned on at how bossy he was being; hastily you started after him, attempting to keep up as best as you can. True to his word, he was leading you in the direction of one of the exits that sits in the back of the palace, near the kitchens. 

“What do you—uh, I mean we, have to do that we have to leave the palace?” You asked, arms swaying as you walked. He had a quick stride tonight, not as attentive as he usually was to how fast he was going in comparison to you. You feared that by the time you reached your destination, wherever that may be, you’d be a dripping, sweaty mess.

Jimin hummed, as though he was pondering whether to give you the answer or leave you hanging; you liked to think you were getting better at reading him, but you wouldn’t put any money on it. He turned his head slightly, eyes catching your own over his shoulder—if it weren’t for the magnetic draw they currently had to them then you might have been hypnotised by the shimmering mauve colour of his marks instead. 

Actually, there was a lot about him tonight that threatened to distract you completely. His arms were out, sleeveless silken shirt hugging each curve and dip of the muscles in his back; the material of his pants did a fantastic job of emphasising his behind, too. The last one was almost your undoing when you were so focused on your observation that you nearly missed the words he threw your way. 

“A lot of the plants on this planet present a beautiful front during the daytime hours, but some only truly bloom beneath moonlight.” Jimin turned the next corner that approached the second he finished speaking, almost losing you in the process. You had to hurry to catch up to him, glimpsing an amused quirk of his lips as you did so. Bastard, now he’s just being a pain. “There are some fruit we need to harvest for some of the dishes on the menu for the celebration. They sit on the furthest reaches of the grounds, almost outside of them, and the fruit are only revealed at night.”

“Oh,” you said, thoughts rushing to catch up before getting caught on one thing in particular. You wondered, did this mean there would be pies on the menu? Oh, you hoped so. The chefs in the palace kitchens really knew how to make good desserts, and you didn’t doubt they could take any ingredients they wanted and turn it into a mouthwatering dish. Gods, you were so excited already that you swore you just felt your stomach rumble. 

You followed Jimin out of the palace and onto the grounds, the two of you finding one of the stone paths and proceeding down it. To your credit, you didn’t bother him all that much, for once. He seemed to notice, if the curious looks he was shooting over his shoulder every time you were silent for more than a few minutes were anything to go by. 

Although, to be fair, it wasn’t just your fantastic self-restraint that you had to thank for your sudden ability to shut up for more than a few minutes at a time; you were, for a majority of the walk, caught up in looking at the scenery around you. Just as you mused earlier, you didn’t think you’d ever get sick of looking at the environment here. The luminescent hues and hypnotic patterns that trail along branches and swirl across leaves and petals; it’s breathtaking, and you’d never get used to it. 

Despite the fact that you’d actually listened earlier and therefore knew that you were heading to the edge of the palace grounds, you were still surprised by how far out the two of you were venturing at this time of night. You weren’t scared, had no reason to be, and your surroundings were actually illuminated nicely by moonlight and the glow cast from crystals and stones that line the edge of the path, so you didn’t have to worry about stumbling or anything like that. It added to the magic of the moment, if anything. 

You thought it couldn’t get any better, or any more beautiful, than this, but you were quickly proven wrong when you trailed after Jimin around a curve in the path and came upon a dead-end of sorts. You audibly gasped at the sight before you, rooted to the spot in awe—you don’t even notice the weight of a gaze on you. “Oh my gosh… it’s so pretty…”

In front of you was a clearing of sorts that backed onto a looming cliff face, lush shrubbery peaking over the ridge, the descent covered in thick, curling vines that glowed turquoise and emerald beneath the moonlight and danced jubilantly in the breeze. The flowers that bloomed across the cliff were rosy, petals curling back like lilies and speckled with bioluminescent blue, but at the very centre of the flowers was a fruit that you instantly longed to put in your mouth. It appeared like a blackberry, but supersized—it was plump and juicy looking, and if you had to guess you’d say it would probably be about the size of your hand. 

Surprisingly enough, the fruits weren’t the first thing to catch your attention. No, that was the waterfall that split the cliff face to the right, shimmering waters flowing into a large, deep lake at the base. Black pebble-like stones lined the shore, and larger obsidian chunks jutted into the water along its girth. The way the water danced beneath the moonlight almost had you well and truly hypnotised, if it weren’t for the sound of Jimin’s voice breaking through your thoughts.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it.” He hummed, and you didn’t realise he’d begun to walk away until you turned and caught him moving to the side. Any questions you might have had as to why were quickly answered when you saw him procure two woven baskets from a weathered table by the cliff. He turned back and halted when he saw you in the same position as before. “Come on, petal, these aren’t going to pluck themselves into our baskets.”

Cheeks flushing for some reason unbeknownst to you, you hurried over to take one of the baskets in his hold, following him when he moved to the part of the cliff closest to the table and furthest from the lake. Well, you decided that you didn’t really have any reason to be so nervous earlier. Yet another reason to banish the emotion from your being. 

“These are pippura,” Jimin informed you when you approached him, looking to make sure that you were listening. You offered him a bright, shit-eating grin to reassure him and he rolled his eyes before turning back to the vines. You caught the way his lips had quirked before he did, though, and filed it away in your victory drawer for later gloating. “They only grow on cliff faces near running water—we are lucky enough to have such a place as this on the grounds. If we didn’t, then we would have to venture much further to procure some.”

“Are they special?” you found yourself asking, swinging the basket around your wrist idly and then stopping immediately when he sent you a warning glance. “I mean, are they important for celebrations?”

“They are used in a lot of traditional dishes that feature in celebrations such as this one,” Jimin confirmed, muscles of his back shifting as he reached to grab one of the fruits hanging a little above his head. “You will be happy to know that many of those dishes are desserts.”

He was right—you were happy to hear that. You couldn’t stop the stupid, excited grin from slipping onto your face at the thought of all the delicious possibilities you were going to be able to try for the first time. If these fruits tasted as good as they looked, then you were going to be in for a good time. 

Jimin might have been somewhat tense at the beginning of this little venture, but as the two of you went about plucking the vines bare of their fruits and filling your baskets with their bounty, he seemed to ease into himself a little, growing a little more playful and a little more sassy. Which is to say, he returned to the Jimin you knew and loved. Of course, the second you noticed this, you were unable to help yourself from resuming your usual shithead antics. You poked and prodded at him playfully with a few verbal jabs, all of which either got you a small snort and a grin, or a look loaded with tension and restraint. It was exhilarating—you didn’t realise just how much you’d missed this! Granted, it hadn’t been all that long since you’d been a thorn in Jimin’s side, but you were a simple girl who enjoyed the simple things in life. 

It was still a humid night, and although the breeze did help some in keeping you from overheating, you still found yourself casting longing looks towards the water behind you. Gods, it had been so long since you last swam—now that the idea was in your head, you couldn’t get it out. Of course, that idea followed the path in your brain that most thoughts take these days, and your gaze flicked from Jimin, to the water, and then back to Jimin. No… you shouldn’t. You only just got back in his good graces, you didn’t fancy another near death experience today. But still…

You couldn’t rid the thought from your head, trying not to let your scheming show on your face. Jimin was a lot sturdier and a lot stronger than you, so the only way you’d even be able to get him in the water by surprise would be to full-body tackle him. You didn’t think you’d come out of that unscathed. Still… the longer you stewed in the humid air, the weaker you found yourself becoming to the idea. By this point, you knew you were going to end up going for a midnight swim in that lake, it was just a matter of whether you were going to be able to convince Jimin. Well, admittedly your definition of ‘convince’ was becoming looser by the minute, so the nature of Jimin’s impending entrance into the lake was, at this point, very subject to change. There were a number of scenarios playing out in your mind’s eye.

It was when your basket was nearing overflowing, and you grabbed one last fruit a little too hard and landed yourself with a hand covered in sticky berry juice, that you had an idea. The juices were an odd, shimmery dark blue and seemed eager to stain, just like the berries you knew from earth. Fantastic. You shuffled closer to Jimin, who had become so enraptured in the task by this point that he didn’t even pay you any mind. You were planning on pretending to trip, but karma had its kiss for you and you ended up actually tripping on a rock on your way to him, like a loser. As regrettable as it was, it did get the job done all the same.

“Oh shoot—sorry!” As would be the natural instinct of any red-blooded woman, you’d reached for Jimin’s bicep when you fell and ended up bursting the fruit against it, spilling its juices all over him. You did feel a little bad, despite the fact this had been your plan all along, but you were more surprised when instead of recoiling like you’d expected, Jimin had whipped around and attempted to catch you from tumbling to the ground instead. You didn’t have time to relish in the resulting flutter of your heart, because he quickly realised what you’d spilt on him and proceeded to send you an exasperated look.

“Are all humans such trouble? You are almost as clumsy as Namjoon,” he remarked, but you caught the twinkle of amusement in the darkness of his eyes as he righted you to your feet. 

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” you informed him, before pulling out your most innocent smile. “And at least there’s a lake here to wash off in!”

Jimin’s eyes flicked back over his shoulder, taking in the body of water nestled against the cliff. He hummed for a moment, before shrugging and letting you go to place his basket down and make his way over to the pebbled shore. “I wouldn’t need to wash off if you had watched where you were walking, petal.”

You rolled your eyes, watching for a moment as he slipped his boots off, placing them by one of the rocks wedged into the shore and proceeding to roll his pants up before stepping into the water. You snapped yourself out of your staring—now was the time to strike!

“Is it cold?” you asked, trying not to betray your intentions as you slipped your own shoes off and began to creep over. He was bending slightly, trying to scoop some water into his palms, and if you had to hold yourself back from being a bastard a second longer you were going to combust. 

“Of course not, it’s lovely,” he muttered, somewhat absentmindedly. His marks shimmered neutral blue as his fingers swirled through the water. Now that you knew you weren’t going to make him freeze to death by pushing him in, you had no qualms acting on the urge that had been bothering you for the better part of the last ten minutes. 

“Oh, good,” you remarked, before taking a moment to accept the very real possibility of death after this. As soon as you were at peace with it, you disengaged your rational thought machine and enacted your plan. Quick as you could, you darted across the grass and planted your hands on Jimin’s butt with all your strength (not! For the reason one might be thinking! It was a purely strategic move to make him most unbalanced), miraculously succeeding in pushing him off his feet and, subsequently, into the water. 

“Y/N—!” 

The way he just barked your name in shock made you as excited as it did scared for you life—although, if you were being honest, the line between those two had been getting more and more blurred lately. Tumbling into the rippling waters of the lake he went, deep enough where he fell that for a moment he was completely submerged. You couldn’t help the laugh that tore from you at the sight, but it quickly tapered into an alarmed scream as he burst back to the surface, absolutely drenched, and sent you a murderous look. 

You’d been intending to get in right after him, but perhaps it would be more prudent to run while you still could—

“You little—” Jimin’s sputtered words were all the warning you got before he launched towards you, tearing through the water and up the shore much, much faster than you had ever anticipated. You yelped, spinning on your heel and scrambling across the pebbles, stumbling in your attempts to flee before he reached you. Of course, as you knew from the second he locked eyes on you after exiting the water, you hadn’t stood a chance of getting away; you would never be a match for his sheer speed and strength. You barely got three steps in before two strong hands snapped around the small of your waist, water seeping into your shirt where his fingers pressed into the material.

“You are such a pain,” he chastised, twisting you and throwing you over his shoulder so quickly that it almost made you dizzy.

“Aw, come on, it was an accident! I’m sorry!” you lied through your teeth, scrabbling for a grip on the drenched shirt that was sticking to his every line and curve like a second skin. “Let’s be rational about this—”

Smack! 

You yelped, back curving slightly as your hand flew to your ass in shock, the likes of which was now smarting as a result of the firm smack he’d just delivered. Your entire face flushed with heat, brain flatlining as the raven-haired alien carried you back towards the lake; the sight of the grass growing further and further away, along with your chances of survival, was very condemning. 

“Be quiet and accept the consequences of your actions like a good girl, petal,” Jimin said, voice so low and raspy it was almost a purr; you couldn’t see his marks from this angle but you were dying to know what colour flushed across them when he said that. You felt your stomach drop and butterflies swarm to replace it, giddy anticipation tingling up your spine. You didn’t know if you were in a place emotionally where you could deal with being this horny right now. 

You made one last attempt at pleading for mercy, “I didn’t know that you’d fall in! I thought you had more balance than that! It’s not my fault youAAAH—”

Evidently, Jimin was not in a merciful mood. He didn’t even wait for you to finish talking when he reached mid-shin in the water and promptly threw you from his shoulder and into the depths.  It happened so quickly you could do little more than yelp before the water cut you off and you were sinking below the surface, the lake so cool against your overheated skin that you almost let out a blissful sigh before catching yourself just in time. Your feet found the smooth, pebbled bottom and you propelled yourself back up, breaking the surface with an affronted gasp. “Hey! That was rude! Do we even know how dirty the water is?”

At this point you were just being annoying, but he simply rolled his eyes before trapping your own in his gaze, the heat contained in the dark pools making you shudder. He began moving towards you, striding back into the lake like a predator, so smoothly that the most the water did in response to his entrance was ripple around his legs. “It’s not dirty,” he informed you, a sly look crossing his features for the barest second. “There is a certain type of algae in here that means it is self cleaning—actually, the algae is part of the reason why the pippura vines grow here.”

You launched yourself backwards as he grew closer, spouting off little tidbits of information like he wasn’t currently in the process of cornering you in the lake; your arms couldn’t seem to propel you fast enough, because each second you spent splashing about frantically he gained on you. By the time he was about a metre away from you, the water was up to his ribs and he looked like he was preparing to pounce. So, you did the only logical thing you could think of in that moment, and used your legs to kick a massive splash of water in his face. 

It smacked him dead on, drenching his hair once more and making him sputter, hands coming up to wipe water out of his eyes. His marks shifted rapidly, from rose to teal to petal pink and then back again. You didn’t know what it meant, but you knew your time was running out. 

“y/n,” he said, voice low as he flicked water from his face and levelled you with a heated look, lashes wet and sticking together. “Didn’t I just tell you to be a good girl?”

His words made your stomach flip and a shiver roll down your spine, and yet you were too proud to let it show. Instead, you offered him an innocent expression and a flippant, “Oops?”

That seemed to set him off.

You spent the next few minutes cackling as he attempted to grab you, apparently much less graceful in the water with slippery pebbles beneath his feet than he was on land. Something about games with a chase, like tag, just made your blood sing— and from the glimpse you got of his lively expression as he tailed you through the water, the feeling was mutual. You didn’t know how long you managed to evade him before he caught you, but it was long enough that your pride remained safe by the time his hands landed on your shoulders and you were promptly dunked beneath the surface. When you returned for air, you splashed him for cover and made a break for it once more. Fun, it was so much fun it felt like you were floating in your elation. 

Every time you would just barely manage to slip from his grasp with a mad giggle, you’d hear a laugh of his own tumble into the air, the sound downright melodic and so decadent against your ears you immediately did everything you could to hear it again. This was a side of him that you’d hand to wrangle out with your bare hands, but damn if it wasn’t worth it to see the way his eyes shone and disappeared into crescents with his smile. 

Of course, though you were incredibly gifted in many areas (not to toot your own magnificent horn) stamina sadly wasn’t one of them. Jimin might have been engineered for speed, agility and athletic grace, but you most definitely weren’t. It was only a matter of time before you grew too tired to continue fleeing as well as you had been up until that point. 

“I give up! I surrender!” you announced, proceeding to flop backwards and float, almost panting. The water had cooled you down greatly but it was still a warm night and Jimin was unfairly fast. You’d been kept on your toes the whole time. 

“I am surprised that you lasted so long,” he mused, sinking down in the water until it was up to his neck. The mirth had yet to fade from his eyes, his marks still glowing an exuberant teal that fluctuated between bright green and cyan.

“I’m full of surprises,” you informed him, still somewhat breathless. You shifted from your floating position, treading water lazily as you leaned back and sent him a cheeky look. You just needed a moment to recharge, then you’d be giving him a run for his money once more.

Jimin hummed, breaking the hold he had on your gaze for a moment to glance up at the sky; your breath caught in your throat at how beautiful he was in that moment, raven hair an unruly mess and water still dripping down his skin, freckles luminous and the entirety of his form bathed in the kind of moonlight that made him seem ethereal. You snapped out of it a second later, propelling yourself slightly behind him so he wouldn’t catch you slipping if he happened to look down. 

You’d only meant to hide your face and the current heated nature of your cheeks from him, but as you floated behind him your goblin brain, of course, came up with another idea that would rile him up. You weren’t sure if you should enact it so soon, when you hadn’t even caught your breath completely yet, but you were also aware that he wasn’t going to be distracted much longer, especially when it was you in his company. By this point he’d learnt the hard way to keep his eye on you. 

Twisting your body in the water smoothly so that your feet braced against the bottom once more, you prepared to jump. You needed to get a good grip, or else he would throw you off too easily and that would be nowhere near as fun.

Throughout the whole time you were plotting that move, you forgot completely about what lined the skin of his lower back— you were soon to be reminded, however, when you proceeded to pounce on him from behind and he stiffened immediately in your hold. 

Your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck, but he was more slippery than you accounted for and you had to fight to keep your grip. This, of course, meant that you were pressed that much tighter against his back.

“You—” he seemed at a loss for words for the briefest moment, stuttering slightly as his hands whipped to your thighs.

“Boo!” you announced belatedly with a ruffle of his hair, even as you felt your grip begin to slip. Well, it seemed it was time to cut your losses and jump back into the water— you were completely prepared to do so, until he twisted slightly beneath you and you slipped prematurely. 

Having expected to fall back into the water, you were surprised when Jimin managed to turn in your grip and scoop you into his hold, saving you from an abrupt reunion with the surface of the lake. It didn’t do much for the state of your heart, however, when you realised that now you were clinging to his front, legs around his waist and his hands supporting you at your ass and thigh. Uncharacteristically— or rather, quite characteristically since this was Jimin you were dealing with— you were at a loss for words, reduced to simply blinking at him with wide eyes and mouth slightly ajar in shock. 

If the position alone hadn’t been enough to send your heart racing, then the way he was looking at you would have definitely finished the job. His marks were flushed deep, dark rose, and his eyes were so intense as they bore into you that you felt goosebumps raise across your skin. You felt oddly… vulnerable, for a moment, but you didn’t have time to ponder that realisation before his lips were quirking slightly in something like triumph.

“You are full of surprises,” he agreed, head tilting slightly; water lapped lightly at your skin and it took you a moment to realise he was moving towards the cliff, near the cluster of large, obsidian rocks that skirt the edge of the waterfall. “But you are also very predictable, petal. You pulled the same move twice.”

Huh, well. Maybe you did! What’s it to him?! You opened your mouth to express just that, but all that came out was a squeak when his hand shifted its place on your thigh and slipped through the slit in your pants, palm cool against your heated skin. For a moment you forgot how to breathe— this was just like what you told Seokjin. Going from nothing to a lot of something, just wasn’t a situation you were equipped to handle!

“Oh,” you managed to say, finally. He seemed amused at your fluster, and you were willing to bet that he was probably enjoying the way the tables had turned since you’d first arrived here. Cocky of him, but hot nonetheless. You just called it as you saw it. “Well, maybe this was my plan all along, and you played right into it. Victory goes to me, peach cheeks.”

His brows rose, apparently thinking it very bold of you to be bringing back that pet name when it was you currently at his mercy, as much as you might have currently been trying to make it seem otherwise. 

“Your plan, or mine?” he asked softly, holding your gaze as he halted and you felt cool rock press against your back. You shivered, unable to help it, and he let out a pleased hum. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it most definitely wasn’t for him to rock his hips forward, grinding against you and pinning you to the rock all at once. The gasping noise that came out of you was kind of embarrassing, but he didn’t seem to think so. 

Once more, he had you at a loss for words as you attempted to process his utterance amongst the pleasant, heady sensations burning through you. It didn’t help your ability to think either, when his hand slipped from your thigh to trail up your side; with bated breath, you felt it as he dragged his fingertips over your ribs, skirting the underside of your chest before dancing up your sternum, where your neckline ended and his fingers met your skin. It wasn’t all that much, but the action alone had been enough to leave a trail of gooseflesh in its wake. When his gaze flicked down momentarily, you were slightly embarrassed to see that his wandering hand had also elicited another unwitting reaction from you, your nipples standing beneath the material of your shirt. Wearing a bra tonight would have been prudent, but you hadn’t exactly accounted for this, had you?

This felt surreal, almost. For however long and loudly and explicitly you had expressed your desire for him, for some reason you hadn’t ever counted on being in this position. It was almost like you had to acclimatise yourself to it, but you didn’t have time to ease yourself into the scalding heat of his touch and the sinful burn of his gaze against your skin. You had been fully immersed and molten desire was devouring you whole.

His fingertips had remained at your sternum, but his gaze flicked along the column of your neck and it wasn’t long before his hand followed suit. Over your collarbones, the dip of your shoulder where it met your neck, and then up the column of your throat. His touch was gentle as his thumb settled under your chin, fingers slipping into the hair at the back of your neck, and ever so slowly he tilted your head backwards so the expanse of your neck was bared to him.

Your gaze now centered on the stars, your breath hitched when a hum drifted through the air and he nosed along your neck, the occasional brush of his lips against your skin eliciting shiver after shiver. Of course he would enjoy toying with you, not that you could blame him. 

He didn’t make you wait all that long, though, before his pillowy lips finally pressed to your skin over your pulse, soft and silken as a petal. You didn’t doubt he could feel, if not hear, the way your heart was racing right now.

“Always so bold,” he murmured, pressing his lips directly over your throat, and then to your collarbones. You could barely breathe, feeling dizzy from just his proximity alone. “But you’re awfully quiet now, petal.”

“Can you blame me?” you said, eyes fluttering closed as you felt his tongue brush against your skin. “I’m only— only one woman—”

Your ability to speak ceased completely when his teeth made an appearance, scraping ever so tantalisingly against the junction of your neck and shoulder. He hummed against you, pulling back a moment later.

“Look at me.”

With his grip beneath your chin eased, you tilted your head back somewhat dizzily, head a little hazier than before. 

“I want you to answer me seriously when I ask these,” he said, and there was no room in his tone for any of your usual cheeky behaviour. You nodded obediently, holding his gaze and watching as his marks shifted colours hypnotically.

“Do you want to feel me?” 

He rolled his hips, a prominent bulge grinding against your core and making your nerves tingle to life as he did so. You nodded, breath catching and your hands coming to grip his arms.

“Do you want me to touch you?” 

His hand drifted from your throat to your shoulder, finger slipping beneath the strap of your shirt and waiting. You nodded, more fervour in the movement this time, and slowly, oh so slowly, he dragged the strap of your singlet down over your shoulder. He seemed to be attempting to hold himself together too as he continued the movement and pulled the rest of your shirt with the strap, peeling it from your chest until it slipped beneath the curve of your breast and bared it to his gaze. 

Almost with a sense of reverence, the back of his fingers brushed along the swell of your breast, forefinger coming to trace around your areola before his thumb finally shifted and swept across your hardened nipple. You had all the time in the world to prepare for it, and still you were unable to help the sharp mewl you let out in response, heat flushing across your face and chest. Jimin’s dark eyes flicked back up to your own, lips parted ever so slightly as though in awe. Idly, his thumb continued rolling your nipple, the sensations making your thighs clench in their grip around his waist; instinctively, his hips rocked into your own, and you registered in the back of your mind that something smooth was brushing against your feet. 

The two of you had drawn closer without even realising, his eyes hooded slightly as they bore into your own from beneath damp lashes.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

For a moment, your heart stopped. This time you didn’t nod, the whisper escaping you of its own accord. “Yes.”

He didn’t need any more confirmation beyond that. Before you could blink he was dipping forward, fingers digging into your ass for a better grip as his lips finally met your own and the heat swallowed you whole. 

When his mouth moved against yours, lips just as plush and pillowy as you’d dreamed, it was as though something shifted, snapped into place within you. There had never been an absence or a void inside you, and yet the second his lips caught your own in a kiss, it was like something had returned home. Like your insides before had been messy and muddled, and he had brought clarity and order and everything had fallen into place.

You sank into each other like clockwork, every move of his lips and tongue against your own all but stealing the breath straight from your lungs. So inebriated in the touch, smell, taste of him were you that you hardly batted an eye at the sensation of something thick and firm curling around your ankles and up your legs. 

Suddenly emboldened, you nipped his bottom lip with your teeth, before sucking it into your mouth; the groan that escaped him in response was guttural and low, hips rocking into your own roughly. He only let you play for a moment, though, before he was reclaiming control of the kiss and the situation in one go.

“So eager,” he gasped a moan when he broke from your mouth to suckle along your jaw. “The smell of your desire is so strong, petal— intoxicating…”

You should have been embarrassed to discover he could smell your arousal, but at this point you were beyond shame. He nipped and sucked along the column of your throat, each one wringing out a new, special noise from you just for him. You forgot to keep track of the rest of him until you suddenly felt his hand shift, fingers toying along the waistband of your pants. 

“I’ll give you what you want…”

In the next moment his grip had shifted and he was lifting you up with ease, placing you onto the surface of a rock just to the side; from this position your hips were at the same height as his shoulders. He wasted no time adjusting his position, moving closer and slipping your pants down in such a fluid movement that you were reeling for moments after. You felt no shame in being almost completely bare before him, not when he was slipping your thigh over his shoulder and easing forward, looking at you as though mesmerised by what he saw.  It was a heady look that swirled in his eyes, molten and promising.  As he moved closer he rose slightly, almost hovering over you and pushing your leg back to your chest. 

His mouth parted, words on the tip of his tongue but unable to pass as he simply drank you in. The fingers of his free hand came to trail up your slit, collecting a generous amount of slick as it did so. The look Jimin then gave you was full of such heat that you almost felt lightheaded; the sensation of being completely at his mercy was absolutely intoxicating. 

“So wet,” he murmured, pushing his finger a little deeper between your lower lips and making your hips cant up slightly. It was like he was no longer even aware of the words tumbling from his mouth. “So pretty… I wonder how well you would….”

You weren’t left wondering what he could have meant for long; in the next second he was pushing a thick finger to brush your entrance; the anticipation alone was almost too much for you, more arousal gushing forth to greet his inquisitive touch. 

“Jimin,” you gasped as his thumb brushed your clit by accident, the noise making him double back and go again. “P-please…”

He met your eyes, and for a moment you thought he might have made you ask for it, might have made you beg, but to your surprise a small smile slipped onto his lips and, without a word, he pushed his finger completely into you. 

Of course you were so absolutely turned on by this point that there wasn’t a stretch, but the sensation alone of being filled, even a little, was so delicious that you didn’t even have the presence of mind to try and squash the abrupt, keening moan that escaped you. You hadn’t realised how much you’d ached to have something inside you before now, clenching around even a single finger like a wanton whore.

Jimin swore in his native tongue, groaning at the tightness you offered. He pumped once, twice, finger a torturous drag against your walls as he did so until he added a second finger and was rewarded with more unwitting noises from you. 

“Fuck!” You gasped as his fingers curled, searching for something along your walls that it didn’t take him long to find. He seemed all too pleased to have found your sensitive spot, and that knowledge in combination with the way he began working his thumb over your clit as he pumped his fingers into you was what ultimately spelt your doom. 

“Does it feel good, petal?” he asked, breathless. When you nodded, he rewarded you with a third finger— the noise you let out in response was positively sinful. Pleasure thrummed along your limbs, burning beneath your skin and turning your bones to magma. So much pleasure throbbed in your core at his slow, purposeful strokes that you felt like you were going to lose your mind.

And then he decided he wanted to pick up the pace. 

Your hands scrambled for purchase as he began to fuck his fingers up into you in earnest, each pump slamming into you and ending with his fingers curling into your g-spot and making colours explode behind your eyelids. You didn’t realise your eyes had closed until you felt something soft brush your chest and they shot open— only to flutter closed once more in the next second as Jimin’s lips wrapped around your pebbled nipple and he sucked it roughly into his mouth.

“Jimin—!” The words caught in your throat, “F-fuck, please d-don’t— don’t stop—”

Jimin’s fingers weren’t long, but they were thick, and the sensation of them dragging against your walls again and again and again was absolutely heavenly— but the way he stimulated your g-spot with each roll of his wrist drove you absolutely mad. You weren’t one to usually reach your end all that quickly, but already at his ministrations there was a ball of tension forming in your stomach, more and more ready to snap with each sharp jolt of pleasure to your core.

Jimin trapped your nipple between his teeth, tugging it lightly before releasing it and moving his mouth to your ear. “Let go for me, petal. I want to feel you unravel around me.”

A low, heady murmur dripping with desire and promise. He returned his mouth to your chest, and you didn’t even have time to tell him you were close before he hit the final nail into your coffin.

While he’d been maintaining long, precise strokes before now, he suddenly shifted tactics. Within the blink of an eye he began fucking his fingers into you that much harder, that much faster— but it was the combination of his fingers pressing into your g-spot and his thumb rolling your clit that sent you well and truly over the edge. 

The coil within you snapped and you gasped out his name in a lilting moan as your orgasm burst forth and you came hard, pussy clenching around his fingers like a vice as your back arched off the rock in the woes of your pleasure. Even so, he continued to fuck his fingers into you as you rode out your high, only stopping when you placed a trembling hand against his chest and tried to squirm away from overstimulation. 

It took a moment for you to come back to your senses somewhat, gaze centering back on Jimin; you were surprised to see droplets glistening along his arm and across the damp silken material of his shirt, but quickly realised with heated cheeks that he’d actually made you squirt. He didn’t seem to mind; if anything, he seemed to approve, expression strained as he gazed over the mess you’d made of him.

As he gently slipped your thigh from his shoulder and set it down, giving you a quick rinse with the water before slipping your pants back down, your ability to speak finally began to return to you. 

“H-holy fuck…” you murmured, slipping from the rock and back into the water as soon as your pants were back on. It might have been a mistake to move so fast, though, because your legs were jelly and you almost dipped beneath the surface were it not for Jimin’s hands coming to brace you.  You fixed your top as you looked at him, taking in the tension riddling his firm and the shadows swirling in the water behind him— now, of course, you recalled a certain predicament that affected him. You read the heat and desire still burning in his gaze and moved forward, slipping your hands to his waist. “Now, to return the favour—”

To your surprise, the alien halted your movements, shaking his head. Your confusion was only increased when a light smile slipped onto his lips. He closed his eyes a moment, taking a deep breath, and you caught it from the corner of your eye as the shifting shadows in the water behind him began to still and slip out of sight.

“It’s okay, I will be fine,” he assured you, tone soft and just as airy and mellifluous as ever. “We should really be getting back.”

“Oh… ok.” For the third time that night, you were rendered speechless. Except this time, it was out of sheer confusion. He placed a hand on your back, guiding you from the lace and back up to where you’d left your baskets; thankfully, a part of you reflected as you emerged from the water, the material of your pants was comfortable and unlikely to chafe even while dripping with water.

As you retrieved your baskets, Jimin offered you a somewhat strained smile, before tilting his head in the direction of the castle. “Let’s go, petal.”

And then he turned and simply began on his way back, leaving you to follow and trail behind him distractedly. Something twinged behind the protection of your ribcage, replaced only by a sinking sensation that settled and weighed down your stomach and didn’t leave for the entire duration of your trip back to the palace.

The high you’d felt earlier was quick to fade in the wake of Jimin’s odd behaviour. He’d literally just fingered you to completion, you should be euphoric right now. And yet… for some reason, it felt as though something had been carved out of your gut and left a gaping hole in its wake. He wasn’t even being mean— hell, he’d smiled at you! Twice! So why did you suddenly feel so...down?

You struggled to entertain a plausible reason for Jimin’s odd behaviour, but you were coming up dangerously blank. In the wake of it all, you couldn’t stop the self-destructive thoughts you usually fought off so well from slipping in amongst your thoughts.

Had he done it just to get you off his case? Had he just been… humouring you?

The thought of it made you feel sick.

The trek back to the palace passed in the blink of an eye, and before you knew it Jimin was easing the basket from your grasp and you were in front of your door. The walk had dried you off enough that now the only true reminder of what had happened in the lake was the current damp and unruly state of his hair and the way his marks had been stained dark maroon ever since leaving the clearing.

“Thank you for your help,” he murmured, drawing your gaze to his own at the sound of his voice. “Go and get some rest, petal.”

With that, he leant forward and pressed a soft kiss, the barest brush of his lips, against your temple. Your heart suddenly hung heavy in your chest, stomach wringing in tumult. You watched him pull back and begin to move away, words caught in your throat.

“Goodnight.”

He was gone before you managed to say it back, disappearing into the darkness of the hall like a shadow returning to the night.

Returning to your own room had you vulnerable, the walls a chamber for your sudden loneliness to echo back and hit you in the face. You tried to brush the feelings aside; it was fine. You were tired and overthinking it, reading too much into the little things. 

After all, if he didn’t like you then he wouldn’t have kissed you on the forehead.

...Right?

a/n: as always i hope u enjoyed,, tysm for waiting so long and for reading!!! lmk what u think and whether u enjoyed with a like or rb,, it helps keep me going lol. thank u i love u!!! <3 

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[writtenonreceipts]

If you're taking prompts, maybe for feysand - Person A catches a bus home everyday, but today, they're so exhausted that they fall asleep, suddely they feel a light tap on their shoulder and open their eyes to see person B smiling at them. "Sorry to wake you, but this is your stop, i hope you slept well"

<33

Oh my darling anon, I am always eager for prompts! Thank-you for sending this in! I altered just a few minor things, ie trains and not not busses and the diologue is just worded diff... and then over indulged in my own whims and fancies, just a touch.

2.7K words of fluff and awkwardness...all i know is awkwardness so ya know...

 #

Strangers and Favors

Exhausted.  Tired.  Sleepy.  There were far too many ways to describe what Feyre was feeling.  Not even the coffee in her hands was doing anything to give her the boost she needed.  

Amid the chill of morning and the slowly growing light of dawn, Feyre found herself hurrying from her car in the park-and-ride lot.  She practically flung herself up the small steps that led to the train platform and into the first train car she was near. 

She’d been running late that morning and nearly missed her alarm.  Alis had been a dear and poured her coffee in a thermos, but Feyre hated the feeling of being rushed.  Especially after a poor night's sleep.  And when it was five thirty in the morning.

Feyre slipped into a seat before she could finally tell herself to breathe.  She’d made it onto her train with only a few minutes to spare.  Thankfully there were other straggling passengers filtered into the train car and made their way to their various seats.

Feyre took a long sip of her coffee and tried to convince herself that she wasn’t really tired.  Even though it was far too early to be awake and she had an hour and a half train ride to sit through.  

Dawn had barely begun to rise over the horizon with not even the promise of pink and blue streaks through the sky.  She sighed and drew out her sketch pad.  

She was barely into starting the picture--of what she had no idea--when the train started moving and a form fell into the seat across from her.

Feyre blinked and glanced up.

There were plenty of other open seats lining the train.  Granted the place she’d found herself was the only one with a small table set up, but still.  

Sitting across from her was a man far too attractive for his own good.  He wore a black suit with a deep navy-blue button up beneath.  No tie, only the top few buttons of his shirt undone giving a peak at a series of tattoos on his chest.  His black hair was styled in a neat wave revealing a chiseled jaw and glorious eyes.

Feyre tore her gaze away before she could be accused of staring.  But honestly, who could blame her?

Over the course of the train ride, Feyre finished her coffee and scribbled out at least four pages worth of drawings.  Unfortunately, inspiration didn’t strike.  Not that it was surprising.  She’d not drawn anything new in months.  Oh, she’d tried.  She could sit for hours on this train, on her balcony, or out in the middle of the forest with a pencil in one hand and paper in the other--and nothing.  Nothing would come.

Alis always told her that she couldn’t force herself to draw.  She couldn’t force herself to be inspired if she didn’t make the conscious choice.  But Alis didn’t understand that sometimes, it was too damned hard.

The train ride passed without excitement.  Not even the man across from her did anything interesting.  Figured.  He was so attractive his life had to be mundane.  At least, that was what Feyre told herself while she was not covertly looking at him

She was glad to get off the train when it reached the city.  After making sure she had her things, she slipped out and onto the platform without trouble.

#

Chaos was not something she enjoyed.  

Especially not lately.  As long as everything was in its place of simplicity, life could continue on as normal.

Honestly, if Feyre could have chosen a simple life involving nothing more than eating donuts she would have chosen it.  Because living in a state of missed calls and impatient clients and looming deadlines was far from her state of happiness.

With a bag of donuts from Rita’s bakery in one hand, Feyre collapsed in her seat at the end of the day.  She’d managed to leave work five minutes early giving her enough time to swing into Rita’s and grab a few treats.  And she would not apologize for it.

“Long day?” 

Feyre glanced up to see the man from that morning taking a seat across from her.  He had an amused sort of expression on his face which made it even harder to look away.  Feyre snatched a frosted chocolate donut from her bag and glared at him.

“No.” She took a giant bite leaving sugar to lace around her mouth and narrowed her eyes at him.

He grinned and shook his head.

Feyre was able to finish her donut in peace and managed not to stare at the man the rest of the train ride home.

#

Life continued.  And much to Feyre’s dismay, nothing changed.

Her sketch book remained empty.  Her coffee remained dull.  Work did not improve.

Something needed to change.  But honestly, she couldn’t figure out what it was.  She’d left her ex months ago.  She’d gotten a new wardrobe, a new phone, moved in with her friend.  She’d started getting out more too.  Somewhat.  When Nesta called, which wasn’t often but at least her sister was trying.

It was five-thirty in the morning and she was seated on the train, again.  And the man who seemed to only own clothing that was black was seated across from her, again.  Since that first day of seeing him, he hadn’t tried talking to her again, which Feyre was semi grateful for.  She was certain she would just make herself look like a bigger idiot than before.

Had she really stuffed her face with that giant donut?

Not that she cared.  She could do whatever she wanted.

Except draw.

Feyre stared out the window of the train.  It was slowly starting to get lighter sooner and Feyre now had more scenery to watch instead of the reality of the empty sketchpad.

Inevitably, however, Feyre found her attention drawn to the man across from her.

There was something about him.  Feyre couldn’t place it, exactly, perhaps an energy of some kind.  Or it was his confidence.  Arrogance.  Something.  She found him mesmerizing.  How stupid was that?  A man she had said one word to and ignored for an entire month and she could help but watch him.

He did a cross word every morning.  Texting someone throughout--or else cheating and looking up the answers.  Other times she caught him reading a book about astrology or NASA’s recent magazine release.  She wanted to ask him about the astrology, it was such a fascinating topic, one that she liked learning about.  But she never knew how to strike up a conversation, so she remained silent.

She’d always been good at staying silent.  At least that was what she’d been told.

The thought came so suddenly that Feyre had to physically shake herself to make it disappear.  She sat up in her seat, hands clenching in her lap.

She snapped her attention away from the train window and forcibly removed her sketchpad from her bag.  In a fury, Feyre moved her pencil across the page.  It wasn’t the bed utensil to use, but it was better than bringing her entire art supply on the commute to work.  The pencil would suffice.

It wasn’t as though she liked being quiet.  It wasn’t as though she didn’t have anything to say.  Sometimes it was just easier.  Sometimes it was just better.  Sometimes the silence was how she communicated.  Sometimes people just didn’t understand that.

The scene came alive beneath her fingers.

Mountains and stars.  Storms and shadows.  All convalescing on a shape.  A person.  A…

Feyre frowned at the scene.  Someone was kneeling on a throne of night and she couldn’t see their face.

“Do you always glare at your art like that?��  The midnight voice broke Feyre out of her revere.  

Glance up, Feyre locked gazes with the violet eyes of the man across from her.  The crossword in his lap was complete.  Feyre realized for the first time that he was younger than she’d originally thought.  Maybe about five years older than she was.  And even though he oozed arrogance, there was almost a genuine sort of smile dancing across his lips.

“Only when it’s being difficult,” Feyre answered.  She offered a brief shrug and gestured to the crossword on his lap. “Do you always cheat at the crossword?”

He made an affronted sort of gasp. “I don’t cheat.”

“You’re always on your phone when you scribble answers in,” Feyre pointed out.  She smirked, unable to help it.

“I’m texting with a friend,” he said, “she’s always trying to finish the damned thing before me in the mornings.  All I do is offer a bit of...encouragement.”

“Right,” Feyre said doubtfully.  She shook her head, still smiling.

The man watched her, almost confused, before he leaned forward.  “And the art?  It’s the first time in over a month I’ve seen you actually draw something.”

“I was searching for the right inspiration,” she said.  And then as she found herself nearly drowning in the heat of his gaze--Feyre had what she’d been hunting for. “Sometimes it just takes a while to find.”

The train pulled to a stop where they usually got off.  Feyre collected her things and half expected the man to be right at her side when his phone went off.

He muttered something under his breath before answering it.

Feyre almost had half a mind to wait for him.  To linger on the platform and dredge up some excuse so that she could talk to him.  If only for a moment longer.  She still hadn’t asked him about the astrology book.

Instead she was swept up in the crowd of commuters.

#

For the next two weeks, Feyre was out of her mind with anxiety.

There really was no other way to describe it.  Because every morning and every evening when she would board the train there would be no sign of her mysterious companion.  Not even the sight of him running to try and catch a ride before the train completely left the station.  Not even a hint of him getting on a different compartment one day by accident.  Nothing.

So, naturally, her mind told her that it had something she’d done.  Something she’d said.  Hell.  She hadn’t even done anything that stupid.  Aside from stuffing a whole ass donut in her mouth.

She was an idiot.

Eventually she was able to push thoughts of her mysterious companion aside.  Not only was she drawing again, but her workload had increased.  And now she was getting up earlier and staying later and her schedule was entirely too chaotic.  

She really missed the simpler days of dashing into Rita’s or relaxing on the train bench not staring at the man across from her.

After two weeks of commuting alone and another two weeks of being run ragged at work, Feyre finally found herself being able to return to a normal timeline.  Somewhat.  At least she was going to be able catch her usual train home and get home before ten o’clock.

Feyre fell into her seat and leaned up against the window of the train.  She didn’t mean to fall asleep.  Not really.  But as soon as she was seated and relaxed her eyes drifted shut and she was gone.

The next thing Feyre knew there was a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Sorry to wake you, but this is your stop,” said an all too familiar voice.

Feyre’s eyes snapped open and she nearly flung out a fist to the shape in front of her.

“I take it you slept well?” Her mysterious companion snatched out a hand and caught hers before it made contact.  He gave her a cheeky grin. “You didn’t even twitch between all the other stops.”

Feyre blinked up at him.  Sleep still addled her brain and he was making no sense whatsoever.

“What?” she finally managed to spit out.

“Your stop?” he said, jutting a thumb to the train doors. 

Feyre cursed, loudly, and jumped up. “I barely even closed my eyes,” she grumbled.

“Here, let me,” her companion grabbed her bag for her and helped her off the train before it took them all the way south to Hybern.

“Thanks,” Feyre said as they stepped out onto the platform.  She accepted her bag from him and gave him a smile. “It’s been a long couple of weeks I guess.”

In the still fading evening light, Feyre was able to see his easy smile and the way his eyes crinkled softly.  His black hair was tousled easily as if he’d been running his hands through it recently.

“It’s not a problem,” he said, “in fact I was surprised to even see you.  It’d been a few weeks.”

Feyre blinked.  He’d noticed she wasn’t on at her usual time?

“You were gone for a while too,” she said without thinking.  You idiot.

Her words seemed to catch him by surprise, but not for long.  A gleam flashed in his eyes.

“You noticed, did you?”

“You noticed me,” she shot back quickly.

They stood in silence as the train moved on with a loud whistle and the last few men and women passed them by hurrying to catch their connecting busses or get to their cars.

His smile stretched into a full grin. “I’m Rhysand.”

“Feyre,” she said, returning the smile.   She then noticed the small paper bag he held in one hand.  Immediately, Feyre recognized the logo on the outside.  “Rita’s?  That’s my favorite place to stop at after work.”

“Yeah, uh,” Rhysand said as he ran a hand through his hair, “I noticed and decided to give it a try.”

“And?” Feyre pressed.

“I have you to blame for my new addiction,” he said.

Feyre laughed, shaking her head.  “I take full responsibility, though I will not apologize.”

Rhysand paused only for a moment before he glanced at her and an almost sheepish smile crossed his features. “Have you been to Dreamer’s? It’s a late-night coffee shop on Main.”

“I haven’t, but I’ve been meaning to,” Feyre admitted.

“My treat,” he said almost immediately.  “I mean, if you want.  You can tell me about what helped you find the inspiration to start drawing again.”

Feyre blinked at him remembering that train ride over a month ago now where she’d finally been able to draw more than a few measly lines.  And she realized now as she watched a halo of light glimmer from the setting sun around his head that all this time she’d been trying to draw him in the outline of mountains and stars.

“Deal,” Feyre said. “But you should know, I don’t give up my secrets lightly.”

Rhysand quirked a brow. “Noted.”

They spent hours sharing secrets.  The small kinds, the simple kinds.

Feyre learned that Rhysand’s brother had broken his leg playing football and needed surgery which was why he’d disappeared for a few weeks.  She learned that it was his mother who taught him about astrology before she died not that long ago.  And now he spent most of his time trying to avoid his father.  

She’d told him about her love of painting, of art, of creating.  Anything that made her feel alive.  She’d told him about walking out on her old life and how here she was six months later and still desperate for change.

They were both trying, it turned out, to become something different.

It wouldn’t be until later that night--after sunset when the inky black sky gave way to the millions of stars overhead--that Feyre found herself home.  Rhysand, of course, made sure she’d arrived safe and she’d rewarded him with a brush of her lips to his cheek and a small smile over her shoulder.

It wouldn’t be until later that night--amid the cool mid-spring air that promised a new dawn--that Feyre would pull out her sketch pad.  She would draw sharp lines and angular features and a man kneeling amid the night.  She would draw power and beauty in something, someone, she didn’t know perfectly.  But one day.  One day, maybe she would.

#

thanks for reading my dears!  i am always eager and open from prompts so thanks for sendin gthem!  I really do enjoy them!

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[whats-rambled-rambled]

Smoke & Mirrors - part 4

Neil x Reader

Chapter 4: Save me

(see chapter 3, 2, 1)

summary: what’s gonna happen if we lock them together for some time...?

warnings: some violence, language and other explicit things, 18+ 

author’s note: 4,8k words, just because I thought I needed to add more plot to it because you wanted 2 shorter chapters instead of a longer one. Who’s laughing now? 

Reading this may cause a slight whiplash. Sorry, not sorry. 

song for this chapter: Aimee Mann - Save me 

Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think, please?

----

The Protagonist’s eyes darted at Ives. 

“And what did she say?”

“Short answer? Nunya,” Ives shrugged, closing the door behind him.

Wheeler giggled and TP looked at her in confusion.

“Long answer,” continued Ives, joining the other two by the coffee machine, “is that as long as they're doing their job, it doesn’t matter who they are fucking in their free time.”

“And are they?”

“What, fucking? I thought we’ve already--”

“No, doing their job,” TP pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I have a mission for them, but it requires locking them together for a significant amount of time.”

Wheeler took a sip from her cup. “If they don’t bond, they’ll bone, and I’d say it’s better than killing each other.”

Ives snorted, clearly amused, but TP hid his face in his palms and groaned lightly.

“Was that your plan all along?”

Wheeler gave them an innocent smile. “Wasn’t yours?” she asked, and as she caught the exchange of looks, her eyes lit up. “You’re welcome.”

-----

You found the car parked near the front door and you had to admit - that grey-ish sedan was the dullest, most ordinary vehicle you’d seen in a while. And that’s why it was perfect.

Neil tossed you the keys and proceeded to load your bags into the trunk. You went to check the GPS setting. The total route was calculated for a little over 5 hours, which gave you enough time to go over the details of the assignment at least once on the way there.

As your mission partner took the passenger seat, you handed him the tablet with all the documents loaded up and ready to go. He nodded, fortunately sparing you the small talk and unnecessary comments, and started reading through them out loud as you followed the GPS directions to your destination.

What you didn’t expect was an almost insultingly short length of reports from the previous stakeout teams, and even a slightly more detailed operation brief was not enough to keep you occupied for too long. Exhausting all the work-related topics, you tensed, suddenly uncomfortable in the silence between the two of you. Especially since you caught Neil’s stare, because if his furrowed brows could be any indication, you had a feeling he might start asking way too many questions any minute now. 

As the radio crackled again, you groaned in frustration. There were still two hours left of traveling through the middle of nowhere, and you’d appreciate any distraction that wouldn’t make you want to drive into the nearest tree. Unlike talking to your partner. 

Neil opened the glove compartment and searched through its contents. He found a thick CD case and started flipping through pages curiously. With the corner of your eye, you saw a grin lighting his face when he finally picked one. 

As you heard the familiar piano notes, your knuckles on the steering wheel turned white. Oh, fuck no.

You glared at Neil, who was gently swaying his head, eyes closed, fighting himself to keep a straight face. When the lyrics started, he pressed his palms to his chest right over his heart and looked at you as he mouthed the words.

//When I was young

I never needed anyone

And making love was just for fun

Those days are gone//

You gritted your teeth and focused back on the road, trying to keep in check the rising anger already boiling the blood in your veins, as Neil was clearly feeling the song more and more with every line.

Well, at least this time he wasn’t--...

And then just as the chorus was about to hit, Neil mimicked the opening drum sequence and spread his arms wide, singing along:

//All by myself

Don't wanna be

All by myself

Anymore//

“If you don’t change that fucking song in the next 10 seconds, be ready to walk all the way to the city--...”

“Come on, it’s a classic!” he complained, the biggest smile not leaving his face even for a moment.

You smacked your tongue, finding your most casual voice, “...and I’m not gonna be bothered with pulling over.”

Neil turned down the volume so the music was barely audible, and while it was not what you’d asked him to do, he didn’t give you a chance to scold him. 

“I bet you’ve spent at least one evening listening to that song with a big box of ice cream on your lap,” he smirked, closely watching your reaction to his words.

You could feel your ears burning. Fucking hell, you really hated his guts.

“No,” you scoffed, but even you were not convinced by the sound of that. Judging by Neil’s expression, neither was he. You winced and groaned, ”...shut up!” 

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” - he shrugged - “been there, done that.” 

“Of course you have,” you couldn’t help but snicker at the image planted in your head. 

The blue eyes studied you for a while longer before focusing back at the view outside the window. Meanwhile, the song ended, getting replaced by an instrumental track. You turned the volume up and for the next minute or two, you drove in silence. 

When you heard a light chuckle, you glanced at Neil again. There was something peculiar in the look on his face, a soft gaze in contrast to a knowing grin.

You sighed.

“Do I wanna know what you’re grinning about now?”

Neil raised a brow and his lips parted in an even wider smile.

“Probably not.”

You shook your head, drawing a long breath, wondering how you were going to survive the next forty-something hours together. You could just hope that being at the actual location and starting the real work was going to make it easier. 

Grounding yourself, you stared into the darkness stepping back under the car’s headlights as dusk slowly turned into night. You noticed a faint glow of city lights reflecting in the clouds over the horizon and you relaxed slowly, tuning out anything other than the road ahead. 

Just as the CD player jumped back to the first song again and you switched to a local radio station, now clear of static, you realized your companion had been unusually quiet for the last half an hour. You looked at the passenger seat only to find Neil deep in his sleep and your heart started beating a little faster. Suddenly, everything about the sight seemed endearing - the peaceful face under the ruffled blonde hair, the slightly open mouth almost hidden behind the turned-up collar of the dark navy jacket, the way he wrapped his arms around himself in a little self-hug…

Your lips curled into a fond smile and as your chest clenched painfully, you turned the radio down, wishing you could do the same thing to your feelings just as easily.

-----------

The second you pulled over in the alley at the back of the abandoned hotel, two figures emerged from the door and rushed in your direction. You recognized the fellow agents and jumped out of the car to make the exchange as smooth as possible. 

“Ten-minute window until the patrol comes back,” you said to a short brunette, taking your bags out of the trunk and passing her the car keys.

“Got it,” she nodded, handing you the room key in return. “Our report should be ready before we reach HQ, I will send it to you ASAP.” 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that the lack of an easy escape plan is intentional,” said Neil as he grabbed one of the bags and looked around.

“But it is,” you shrugged, walking into the building and heading to the nearest staircase. “No loose ends. You’re either good enough to make it out undiscovered and alive, or you get revealed and --...”

“...and then even having the cavalry on call is not going to make a difference, I get it,’ he sighed, matching your two-steps-at-once pace up the stairs, “Can’t say I like it, though.” 

“So let’s try not to do anything stupid so we don’t get caught, shall we?”

A corner of your lips twitched as you heard him scoff at your remark, but to your surprise, he didn’t take the bait. Huh.

When you reached the room, you turned the lock and looked around, taking mental note of the location of every piece of equipment left by the previous team - two cameras, night vision binoculars, and a parabolic microphone placed by the windows. Some parts of the blinds on the windows were broken, others were missing, but the remaining parts still provided a decent cover from the curious eyes peeking up from street level. Other than that, the room was exactly what you would expect from a stakeout location - peeled-off wallpapers of an undefined color, a small table with an electric kettle, a couple of chairs, a mini-fridge, and a mattress. 

As you went to check the last few minutes registered by the camera, Neil started unpacking the supplies. Seeing nothing interesting on the feed, you grabbed one of the water bottles he’d just put on the table and took a seat by the window, your usual first-hour-of-stakeout enthusiasm fending off the tiredness you felt after the long drive.

Neil took a laptop and sat on a chair at the other window, alternating glancing outside and typing in a message to TP with a quick update on your situation.

Your main objective was to observe the building on the other side of the street, especially one loft that was suspected to be a meeting place for one of the smuggling cells’ bosses. Snapping photos of the vehicles pulling over, of the visitors, and reporting any odd activity straight ahead. The usual. But it was past midnight already and your targets were having a pretty quiet night, apparently. 

As Neil finished filing in the paperwork, he stretched his arms and groaned.

“Tea?”

You rubbed your eyes, a sudden wave of sleepiness flooded your brain as soon as you lost focus on the mission. 

“Yes, please, there should be a box with a green one somewhere.”

“Ah, pity, I don’t know how well it’s gonna mix with the biscuits,” said Neil in a ridiculous posh accent, making you facepalm in response. 

Partially, to hide an amused smile. 

You really were that tired, huh?

“I take my tea with no sugar, no biscuits, and no snarky comments, thanks,” you huffed as your eyes followed him to the table.

“I, too, don’t like talking over a cuppa.”

“What did I just say--” you groaned, smacking your thigh in frustration.

Neil giggled and rolled his eyes, now lit by a playful twinkle. “All right, one ‘green tea no bullshit’ coming right up.”

“Thank you,” you sighed, glancing up to the ceiling as if it was supposed to help with the alarming level of annoyance in your system.

Less than two hours on-site and you already wanted to strangle him. 

Among other things.

And before you could stop your tired brain, it brought up a memory of that karaoke night. 

His hands roaming through your body. The sound of a belt buckle hitting the floor. Your frantic gasp when you felt him inside you. His firm grip on your hips. The heart racing in your chest. Your longing body pressing itself into him even further. His uneven breath on your neck. The quickening pace of his thrusts. Your eyes squeezing shut. His muffled moan when you tugged at his hair. The cold wall against your cheek. Your fingers interlocked. His arm wrapped around you tightly. The things whispered into your ear---

“Your tea.”

“Hmm?” you mumbled, blinking rapidly and focusing your gaze on a thermal cup in front of your face. “Oh, thanks.”

Neil studied your expression curiously, a sly grin hiding in the corner of his mouth.

“Pleasant daydream?”

“Maybe,” you sent him a smug smile and raised a brow.

His lips parted slightly at the implication. Drinking his tea, he schooled his features and sat back on the chair. 

You spent the next moments enjoying the hot beverages, the silence becoming more comfortable with every sip you took. But as the time went by and you ran out of tea, the peacefulness turned into boredom. 

Finally, Neil shuffled in his seat and turned your way. 

"We should play a game."

Even though it sounded tempting, you didn’t trust those roguish sparks in his eyes. 

“We already had a chance to play ‘yellow car’,” - you shrugged - “not my fault you chose a nap instead.”

His puzzled face gave you a hint he didn’t get the reference. Pity.

“I was thinking about some sort of...questions game,” he said and cleared his throat, shifting in his chair again. "To get to know each other better."

"Why?" you stared at him with your mouth open, suddenly taken aback. 

He gave you a half-smile. "Don't you think it's weird that the only thing I know about you is all the ways to turn you on and piss you off?"

"Wouldn't be so confident about that ‘all’ part…" you huffed and lost a train of thought as you spotted the familiar flare in his gaze.

"You’re sure you wanna challenge me like that right now?"

A cold shiver ran down your spine at the way his voice got lower. You gritted your teeth as your mind started racing to find a way out of the dangerous waters. 

"Aren't you a master of multitasking?" you teased, batting your eyelashes.

"And aren't you scared of having an actual conversation?" Neil narrowed his eyes and grimaced slightly. 

"Fine!” you fumed as you tossed your hands in the air in defeat. “Why don’t you get straight to the point because I have a weird feeling you have a very specific question in mind."

A silence that dropped after your words was heavy and you realized you’d made a mistake.

"Actually, I do,” he said, tilting his head and locking his gaze on you. “What's up with you and kissing?"

...shit, walked right into that one, huh? 

You pulled one leg up on the chair, glancing outside the window to avoid the blue eyes boring into you. "It's nothing."

“Didn’t look like nothing to me.”

Sighing, you rested the chin on your knee and wrapped your arms around it, as if that little bit of comfort was enough to make the conversation easier. Your ears were burning, your heart pounded heavily in the clenched chest, and it all was only adding to your frustration. Because it really was nothing. Or maybe it should have been, and that was the issue.

“If you don’t wanna talk about it--”

Your eyes darted at Neil only to meet his soft look. A shadow of concern on his face wasn’t helping, but you were grateful that he was willing to give you a way out.

Although at that moment, you felt you owed him an explanation. 

“No, it’s just that it’s a bit silly,” you said, wincing. “I’m gonna tell you, but if you laugh, I will murder you in your sleep.”

Neil smiled lightly in encouragement.

“Got it.”

So you took a deep breath and squeezed the first word past the lump in your throat.

“It’s just that kissing to me was always something… special,” you cringed, fully aware that you sounded like a flustered teenager. “Like it really meant something. Do you know where I’m going with this?”

Neil’s brows knitted together.

“I think so, yeah.”

“Good,” you sighed, forcing yourself to breathe again. “And some time ago, I made a mistake and opened up too soon, burning myself. Fuck, it’s pathetic, I know, I just…” you hesitated and looked away, feeling the rising panic. You were exposing yourself, again. “...maybe I’m just wired that way and we should leave it at that. And never talk about it again,” your voice was hollow, the result of your brain’s desperate attempts to keep your emotions bottled up, just to keep you safe. 

And after what felt like forever--

“Okay.”

You shot him a thankful look, too overwhelmed to say anything. 

Neil got up, moving his shoulders in small circles to get rid of the stiffness. As he walked by you on his way to the bathroom, he patted your arm lightly. Reassuringly. The tip of your nose tingled and you bit the inside of your cheek, cursing a sudden wave of softness clouding your mind.  

A few minutes passed and Neil was back. He fell on the chair heavily, slowly massaging his temples with the tips of his fingers. Catching a question in your stare, he shook his head and grinned.

“What?” you asked, squinting suspiciously.

Neil chuckled, leaning back and spreading his legs. “Trying to figure you out is giving me a headache.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, focusing on the view outside the window. 

“Who we are and who we need to be to survive are two different things, you know.”

“So it’s all an act?”

You looked back at him, suddenly perplexed. “What is?”

“This,” he gestured vaguely in your direction and shrugged. “Or rather your usual behavior.”

You snorted. “Oh, I am a real ray of sunshine, but somehow being around you makes my inner bitch jump out,” you teased, meeting his amused gaze. A corner of your lips curled and you exhaled slowly. “I don’t know, after some time you learn life is easier that way, and at one point the line blurs,” you stopped for a second and frowned, wondering what had gotten into you tonight. “Does it make any sense to you?”

Something new tainted Neil’s features as he looked away, smiling sadly.

“You have no idea.”

Just as you opened your mouth to ask what was wrong, the blue eyes darted back at you.

“I’ll take the first shift, already had my nap after all,” the little laugh escaping his mouth felt forced. “You must be exhausted. Try to get some sleep.”

Oh you were exhausted, all right. But all of the sudden it felt as if he wanted to get rid of you and you couldn’t help feeling a bit hurt by that. There was something in his presence that gave you a hint that it wasn’t the best idea to pressure him about it now, and you slumped your shoulders, nodding.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, getting up. All that held-back fatigue was going to hit you in full force any minute now, and you really wanted to be laid down by then.

A few moments in the bathroom and you were back in the room again in more comfortable clothes. You rolled out a sleeping bag on the mattress and slipped into it, covering your mouth as you let out a small yawn. 

“Wake me up if anything happens or you need me to take over, will you?”

Neil shot you a quick look from his chair. 

“Sure thing,” he gave you a weak smile. “Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” you mumbled. 

You curled up and closed your eyes, hoping the heaviness you felt in your chest would be gone by the morning.

--------

It took your still half-asleep brain a moment to remember where you were and what was going on. You looked around as much as you could without moving your body to avoid revealing that you were no longer asleep. Oh right, the stakeout. 

You noticed Neil sitting on the floor by the only floor-to-ceiling window near the corner of the room, looking outside. The early morning light seeping through the blinds was reflecting in the disheveled blonde hair, a fitting addition to his overall tired appearance. It seemed like he’d spent most of the night working through whatever bothered him after your last talk, but he seemed more at peace now. You studied him in a little moment of sleep-deprived self-indulgence, musing over the dark quarter zip pullover, those absurdly long legs in khaki pants--...

Okay, enough. You sat up, rubbing your face.

“How’s the mattress?”

Hearing Neil’s raspy voice made you quite tempted to invite him over to check for himself.

“Passable,” you replied instead, stretching your arms and wriggling out of your sleeping bag. You nodded at the cameras. “Anything?” 

“Not really. One visitor, already on the list,” he said as his eyes followed you around the room.

“All right,” you sighed, flipping the switch on the kettle. “I need coffee, you want some?”

“No, thank you, but if you could pass me a bottle of water--”

You grabbed one and tossed it to him, heading to the bathroom. 

When you finally looked and felt like a decent human being again, you went back to finish making coffee. As you walked to the windows with the thermal cup in your hands, you caught Neil’s resigned stare. You sat down on the floor in front of him, leaning your shoulder against the wall. A glimpse of internal battle clouded his features and you tilted your head, waiting for him to speak up first.

“I didn’t want this,” he blurted out, and when nothing else followed the statement, you cleared your throat. 

“You have to be more specific, I’m afraid.”

Neil clenched his jaw. You noticed a hint of frustration in his eyes, but then his shoulders dropped and he let out a nervous chuckle, fastening his gaze on the view outside the window.

“I wanted to do things by the book. When TP recruited me… I thought I’d be just another field agent and I was okay with that,” he sighed and grimaced. “But he insisted on fast-tracking me, even when I told him it wasn’t fair to the rest of you.” Neil shook his head slowly and a corner of his lips twitched. “He promised me one of his best agents’ help on the way though. Imagine my surprise when the agent in question kept snarling at me and shoving me around instead.” 

When Neil looked back at you, you realized the meaning behind his words and your mind went blank. You stared into the blue eyes with your mouth open, trying to process everything you’d just heard and its implications.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you breathed out, feeling light-headed.

“Why?”

“Nobody told you…?” you asked, but his confused expression was his only answer. And you simply couldn’t believe that he hadn’t known all this time. “I’d been working my ass off for that position,” you huffed, studying his reaction to your words closely. “And then you showed up.”

Neil’s face dropped as he finally connected all the dots. “Fuck...I had no idea, I’m sorry.” 

Seeing his sincere look, you sighed, raking fingers through your hair. Fucking hell, what a mess. The impossible mix of emotions swirled inside you and you giggled hysterically, suddenly finding the whole situation absolutely hilarious. 

“And I had no idea I was supposed to babysit you,” you said as you stretched your legs, positioning them alongside Neil’s. 

“Thought we were having a moment here,” he scoffed, smiling lightly.

You smirked and tapped his thigh with your foot.

“Think again.”

Neil tapped you back, stifling a chuckle. “You’re insufferable.”

“Too bad you can’t do anything about that now, huh,” you teased, wiggling your brows as you nibbled at your bottom lip.

The blue eyes lit up. “Just you wait till we finish the job,” he said slowly and placed a hand on your ankle.

But before you could respond, you heard a phone alert and Neil jumped at his feet.

He read the message quickly. 

“Seems like we are about to see some action after all,” he said, pressing the phone to his ear. You downed your coffee and joined Neil by the table.

“Hold on, I’m gonna put you on speaker… okay, now”

“Hope you two are rested,” TP’s voice filled the room. “We intercepted a phone call. Our target is expecting a delivery in the next hour or so. Significant enough that from this moment on, the mission objective changes.” You exchanged looks with Neil, knowing well what was coming next. You walked back to the windows to keep an eye on the street. “We have a chance to prevent this shipment from spreading to different sellers. I’m sending the cavalry your way. But you’ll need to assess the situation as it progresses.”

“Means we might have to engage early, got it.”

“It’s your call, Neil. And as we have enough intel now… no loose ends. Good luck.” said TP and hung up.

Neil tossed the phone on the table and dashed to the bags to prep the equipment. You noticed movement in the loft across the street and snapped a few pictures before looking back at your partner.

“Are you good to go? You haven’t slept tonight.”

He glanced at you and gave you a smug smile. 

“How nice of you to worry about me.”

You could feel the usual annoyance mixed with a new emotion, but maybe you were just glad to be back on familiar waters.

“Nah, I’m worried about the mission,” you snorted. “Especially if we may end up going in there alone.”

“I’m okay. How does it look out there?”

You looked outside again and tensed as a van appeared at the end of the street. “We’ve got company.”

Neil changed you by the window and you rushed to get ready.

-------

After clearing the back entrance, you found yourselves in the underground garage. 

Splitting up, you took down the guards one by one without raising any alarms. 

Neil checked the van and then you both made your way upstairs. You knew there were at least five more people in the loft, but you had to rely on the element of surprise because the cavalry was still on their way. 

As you got to the door, you cocked your pistol and met Neil’s determined stare. You nodded. 

Bursting through the door, your instincts kicked in, allowing you to put a bullet into two men before they had a chance to realize what was going on. In the next second all hell broke loose. You knew one thing - you somehow underestimated the numbers. And just as you thought that maybe you got lucky and got every last of them, someone grabbed you from behind and you felt something cold and sharp pressed against your neck. Fuck.

You dug your fingers into the arm wrapped around your shoulders, but a stinging pain made you stop any further attempts at breaking free. The blood pounded in your ears and everything seemed to slow down. 

You noticed Neil standing in front of you with a gun pointed right next to your head. 

He secured a grip on his pistol and the man holding you yelled something at him, but you didn’t listen, focusing completely on the blue eyes, now filled with a silent question, looking straight into yours.

You let out a shaky breath and blinked slowly. 

A gunshot echoed through the room.

The pressure on your neck lowered and you heard a thud of a body fitting the floor behind you. 

Neil lowered his gun. 

You stared at each other for what seemed like forever.

“Nice shot,” you said, composing yourself first.

He gave you a weak smile, and just as he opened his mouth to say something, your comms filled with a familiar voice.

“We’ve missed all the fun, eh?”

------

Neither of you said anything on the way back to the HQ, not counting the short answers to the questions asked by Ives, but even he gave up after a while seeing you weren’t in the mood for talking.  

You got your duffel bag out of the trunk and looked around. Neil was standing at the bottom of the stairs leading to the building, talking on the phone. You walked up to him slowly, waiting for him to finish the conversation.

“Do they need us to get in to file a report?” 

“No, I convinced TP to give us the rest of the day off,” he said, hiding the phone in the pocket of his jacket. “We can do that first thing tomorrow, I’m just gonna drop the equipment now.”

“Great, thanks.”

You couldn’t wait to get back to your apartment. You tossed the bag on your arm and smiled at the thought of a long hot shower and crashing in your own bed. 

There was just one thing you needed to do first.

Neil took a step towards the building and without thinking too much about it, you reached out for his hand.

“Neil…?”

He stopped and turned around, puzzled. His eyes dropped to your joined hands and slowly moved up to your face. 

You gave him a nervous smile.

“Thank you.”

His features softened and he squeezed your hand gently.

“Don’t mention it.”

And then he smirked.

...of course.

“Guess that makes us even.”

(next chapter->)

[puckmeupfam]

The Right to Be Jealous | Jake Virtanen

Word Count: 3177 Note: Friends with benefits to lovers with the one and only. I feel like everything I write is same ice cream different cone, but I like to give the people what I want.

Sitting in the shadowed booth, your nails dug into the faux leather upholstery. Everyone else was out dancing and laughing loudly on the sticky floor. They were relaxed, blowing off steam, singing along to the ‘00s pop throwback that was blasting. You just stayed glaring daggers at your vodka cran that had slowly become watered down by the ice, shedding a puddle of condensation. There was one other member of the Canucks posse who was not on the dance floor: Jake was standing with his elbow on the bar while his eyes were on the woman perched on the barstool. In your desperation, you had even tried that body language deciphering trick of looking at his feet just to find them pointed towards her as well. 

Jake was free to do whatever he wants, you told yourself, you have no hold over him. The two of you met shortly after you moved to Vancouver for school. At first, you were friends but nothing more. Yes, you found each other attractive, that was clear. But you were much more compatible at making sarcastic jokes and counseling each other through life’s daily mindfucks than anything else. Then, Jake started inviting you as his plus one to events and parties, he had found that everyone had a tendency to pair off at those events and he wasn’t a fan of not having anyone’s attention. That’s how it started, him shushing you because you were incapable of keeping your voice down and you saving him whenever he got caught in a boring, bureaucratic conversation. 

And that’s how it went until last year’s Halloween party.

You both drank more than usual. And maybe the catalyst was him placing his hand on your bare thigh where the costume had ridden up. Or maybe it was you lamenting about how long it had been since you had gotten laid. But probably it was him tying a knot in that damn cherry stem. No matter how it happened, you found yourself being pulled by the wrist down the hallway of his building. Both of you drunk and giggly. When you stepped into his apartment, he spun you around so your back was flush against the cold door. He spent a minute staring down at you, not laughing anymore. You let yourself get lost in his bright eyes that kept flickering to your lips. Without even realizing it you brought your hand up to his face and stroked your thumb along the apple of his cheek. Suddenly he leaned down and kissed you, hard. The hand on his face went to wrap around his neck while the one previously at your side ended up tangled in his hair. You tasted booze and hints of sweet grape from jello shots as he licked your lip. When you opened your mouth there was something else on his tongue which you classified as “fuck-why-have-we-been-doing-anything-but-this.” No matter what the catalyst was you were gone.

The next morning you woke up with a pounding headache and messy hair. On your right, Jake was sprawled on his stomach with one tattooed arm thrown over your hip. As you started to shift he groaned and tightened his hold on you. Reaching over to scratch your nails against his scalp, you spoke in a scratchy voice, “I’m just getting coffee, you big baby.” When you came back with the mugs full of steaming liquid, Jake’s with an extra splash of cream, you both sat against the headboards quietly. Minutes passed but it was Jake who broke the silence, “(Y/N), you know, I’m so sorry,” he said in a nervous jumble. You didn’t know what you were expecting him to say but it wasn’t that. 

“I just really, really don’t want to fuck us up. You’re so important to me and I just can’t not talk to you every day. It’s not something I can live with,” he continued. When you peered over at him he wasn’t looking back at you but rather locking his eyes on a chip on his mug that he worried with his thumb. Your chest felt tight and your chin wobbled a bit. If Jake was trying not to ruin your friendship then you would have to try too. So you steeled your emotions and forced your hands not to shake as you brought the mug to your lips.

And that was that. 

Until the holiday party. Where the same thing happened, except the next morning he didn’t say anything. Instead, when you moved to get coffee he held your wrist back and insisted he take you out to a diner. While you would really rather him not tell you that last night was a mistake in front of witnesses, you still threw on a hoodie and did your best to tame your hair though you didn’t bother attempting anything for the dark circles under your eyes. The surprising part was that when you got to the diner he didn’t say anything about the night prior. He even went so far as to order for you before you could even open your mouth. Caramel french toast with strawberries and powdered sugar. And when the food came to your table, he even went so far as to nudge the syrup in your direction. 

He never brought it up. And he didn’t the next day. Or the next. But then he pulled you into a corner at Bo’s New Year’s Eve party, planting his lips on yours until you found yourself slipping out the door with him with over thirty minutes remaining until midnight. Whether you liked it or not once was an accident, twice was a coincidence, three was a pattern, and after that… Well, you had simply stopped counting once you got to eleven. Stopped trying to make sense of it. Just went with it.

You’re broken from your memories by Troy and Emma coming back to the table to get their things. With the night winding down and your group dispersing, some realities occurred to you. Jake had picked you up at your apartment earlier in the evening and both of you had planned that he would take you home at the end of the night. Apparently, he had forgotten. Or maybe he just didn’t care. You weren’t sure which was worse: being thrown to the side for a blonde at the bar or being such a blip on your best friend’s radar that he would totally forget about your existence.

“Hey, would you guys be able to give me a ride home by any chance?” you asked, drawing their attention to you. The couple shared a look before nodding along. You grabbed your bag and jacket before scurrying out of the booth and following behind them, not sparing Jake a glance. Slipping into the backseat of Troy’s car, you reminded him of your address. They had the radio turned up lowly so you could vaguely hear the tune but not quite catch the lyrics. You looked at your phone for a few moments before Emma spoke. 

“Didn’t Jake drive you?” You held in a sigh at her loaded question. While you had never spoken about your situation with Jake to anyone, not even Jake himself, you knew other people noticed that there was something going on between the two of you. It wasn’t like you were particularly cautious, nothing you and Jake did was well thought out, the two of you had surely drunkenly made out in too bright of a corner or stumbled out the door a bit too loudly. And everyone had likely discussed whatever the two of you were doing after you left. And Jake might have even talked about your situation during late-night card games on roadies. And… You snapped yourself out of the weird self-analyzing pity show to answer Emma and save yourself from hyperventilating in your friends’ car.

“He did,” you began, “but he was… busy, and I didn’t want to get in his way.” You were sitting behind Emma so you had a much better view of Troy as he reacted to your answer. He squinted before looking over at his girlfriend with a raised brow. Emma’s only response was a mumbled, “Oh.” 

As Troy pulled up in front of your building, you were glad that they didn’t push further. You thanked them profusely for the ride before jumping out and speed walking into your apartment. You closed and locked the door as soon as you got in before pouring yourself a glass of water. One glance at your phone showed that you had many texts waiting for you and one flash of Jake’s name had you powering the device all the way off and plugging it in. You wiped your makeup off and rubbed in your favorite rich moisturizer. Even though it was still fairly early, you felt exhausted with emotions that you shouldn’t have. Nevertheless, you took a melatonin gummy for good measure and brushed your teeth before encasing yourself in blankets and waiting for sleep.

When you woke up to the morning sun on your face, you got up purposefully avoiding your phone. After drinking a cup of coffee you decided to cook a healthy breakfast. Maybe if you detoxed your body a bit it would help to detox Jake from your mind. When you were finished you sat at the counter. You couldn’t stop flashing through every moment with Jake, looking for hidden meanings in his actions and replaying his words to search for anything valuable. It was like you couldn’t stop yourself from relishing in the emotional pain. You weren’t sure how much time passed before you tasted metal and realized you had been chewing up your lip in thought. 

This simply wouldn’t work. No more wallowing, you decided. Cleaning up the pans and dishes you had used with a bit more elbow grease than you would typically use you shoved everything back in its typical place. You stopped yourself for a minute as something occurred to you. While you wished it had been an epiphany about moving on or signing up for online dating, you realized that your kitchen organization was completely lacking. Your pots were nowhere near your stove. Your cups weren’t close enough to your sink. Your pantry was a disaster.

Without any hesitation, you started pulling everything out of the cabinets. Before you knew it your counters were covered in plates, glasses, mugs, pans, and a rice cooker. You had just started alphabetizing your spices when you heard a knock on your door. With a loud groan, you ran to the door and swung it open without even looking through the peephole. Standing in the hallway was none other than Jake Virtanen. You stilled your frenzied movements to just stare at him. His eyes were sharp as they studied your face. 

“Can I come in,” you barely heard his words but they somehow woke you up and you opened the door wider before spinning around and racing back into your kitchen. Your heart pounded wildly as you went back to work. Nerves coursed through your veins so you weren’t being productive but rather picking up an item and setting it down in a slightly different place. The sound of Jake’s footsteps followed you and you could feel him hovering.

“Um… (Y/N)?”

“Yes, Jake?”

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He paused for a minute to watch you scramble around like a chicken with its head cut off.

“I honestly have no idea.” You huffed and forced your hands to still on the counter top.

“I’m organizing my kitchen.” You forced your face into an expression that could be read as ‘duh’ but given your flushed cheeks and wild eyes, it didn’t seem to translate. 

“Can we talk about what happened last night,” Jake asked. While you hadn’t assumed this was a typical social visit, his question reignited your panic and you resumed your pottering around the kitchen. At first, Jake just seemed bewildered but after a loud clang erupted from two pots you were moving from one side of the counter to the other his eyebrows furrowed into a scowl and he snapped, “(Y/N), do you mind?” 

You threw up your hands and turned to him as he continued, “I want to talk to you and have you actually listen like a normal person instead of doing… whatever it is that you’re doing over there.”

“Talk about what,” you asked, partially trying to buy time and partially trying to seem blase.

“About last night.”

“Nothing happened last night, Jake.”

“I watched you leave with Troy and Emma. You just left, (Y/N).”

“So? You were busy, I wanted to go home.” Without you even realizing it, Jake was taking steps towards you until you glanced up from the floor to find him right in front of you. He reached out his hand to hold your arm. Whether he was trying to comfort you or prevent you from escaping you weren’t sure. The spot where his skin met yours sent tingles down your spine that you forced yourself not to react to.

“When you left, I called Troy,” he said. Now this was news to you. Before you could interject Jake spoke again, “I had been trying to text and call you but you weren’t answering so I finally called Troy. He said you left without me because of that girl.” You tried to pull away but his hand around your arm tightened.

“You were jealous,” Jake said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement. You glared at him, you couldn’t believe that he would come to your apartment just to embarrass you about your feelings for him.

“I wasn’t jealous. I have no right to be jealous about what or who you do,” you snapped. He threw his head back and sighed.

“That’s the fucking point, (Y/N). I want you to have the right to be jealous.”

Your heart stopped. Your mind stopped. You looked up at him just to see his eyes boring into yours. 

“What,” you asked hazily.

“You heard me. I want you to have the right to be jealous.”

“B-but what does that mean?”

“It means… I love you, okay? I love you and I want to be with you and I want you to be jealous even though you don’t ever have to be. Because you’re the only one I see in a crowded room. Because every time we go to a wedding I imagine it’s us standing up there in front of our friends and family. Because I can’t fucking stand being away from you. Because you’re the most important person in my life,” he said emphatically, vehemently. 

“You love me?”

“Yeah, (Y/N), I love you,” he said with a smile on his face. This all felt so confusing and so surreal and you wanted to pinch yourself because this couldn’t be real life. In real life, Jake was the one who decided that the two of you were friends with benefits. Jake was the one who didn’t want to take it any further. Jake was the one who talked with girls at bars.

“Since when,” you murmured. Jake’s smile only brightened.

“Since always,” he told you.

“But, Jake, you said you didn’t want to ruin our friendship. You never seemed like you wanted to take us any further, where is this coming from?” At your words, Jake released your arm and rubbed his palm along his face. The tables turned and now he was the one pacing through your kitchen.

“I thought you wanted that. I thought you were going to tell me that it was all a mistake, that you didn’t really like me.” His words made your stomach squeeze and it felt like you had been slapped in the face. As much as you wished you could wrap your arms around him and kiss him madly, telling him that of course you wouldn’t do that. Because he was Jake and you were you and that would never be a mistake. But you knew that if you fell into him now you wouldn’t get clarity, so you pushed on. “Then what have we been doing? If you were so scared, if you really felt that way, why did we keep happening?” 

Jake stopped his pacing and shoved his hands in his pockets. He refused to look at you, trailing his eyes along the mess in your kitchen and the pictures on your fridge before settling on the floor.

“I couldn’t keep myself away from you. I thought that if that was all I could have with you it would still be better than nothing,” his words were quiet but you still heard him. You forced yourself to take a deep breath and you opened your mouth to speak before Jake interrupted you.

“But then I called Troy last night asking where you were, what happened to you… and he said that you liked me too and I needed to snap out of whatever I was doing and man up,” he brought his eyes up to yours, “he said he was sick of me whining about you like a lovesick puppy and that I needed to, quote, go get my girl.”

His eyes read nothing but love and sincerity. You trusted and believed him. You didn’t want to stumble around your feelings anymore so you stepped forward until you were chest to chest.

“I love you too, Jake,” you said drawing your hand up to his neck. His face erupted into a smile, but instead of leaning in to kiss you, he spoke.

“Do you want to do this thing with me?” Your responding laugh was watery but he waited for your response.

“What? Being in love?”

“Well, yes, that’s pretty important. But I meant being in a real relationship. Y’know? Hold hands in public, change our relationship statuses on Facebook, the whole deal.”

“You don’t even use Facebook,” you teased. He groaned dramatically but the smile seemed to be glued to his face.

“You know what I mean,” he said, “do you want to do this thing with me?”

Jake’s eyes sparkled and you bit your lip. You didn’t deign his question with a response, just brought the hand that rested on his neck down so you could capture his lips in a kiss. For a few blissful moments, it was just you and him. You arched your back to press yourself more fully against him as he planted one hand on your hip as the other snaked up your back. As he moved to press scorching hot open-mouthed kisses down your throat he broke the silence.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

You pulled on his hair until his mouth was back against yours and you whispered against his lips an answering yes.

And if Troy Stecher whistled and hooted an “I told you so,” when you and Jake showed up to the next Canucks gathering, hands tightly intertwined… well, would he be wrong?