#so many nice comments... weeping currently!!!

[outersyourwilds]

Posted the comic on twitter and I am Feeling It (positive)

I feel lightheaded

[my-horniness-is-okay]

Hellooo, this is my first fanfiction so please go easy on me 🙏 not beta read so probably some errors. The character is obviously aged up, idk where in the timeline bc I’ve only played the first two games. I tried to keep him in character as much as I could, sorry if it’s not great. MC is supposed to be gender neutral, genitalia and appearance is not detailed.

Synopsis: the head of the Togami Corporation has his eye on the new intern. After hiring a private investigator, he discovers that the object of his affections is a sex worker; he has found his angle to get closer in a way he understands. Paying for what he wants.

Warning: unhealthy obsession, unhealthy power dynamics, nsfw content, graphic sexual content, Switch Byakuya, Byakuya gets pegged lol, oral sex MC receiving, sex toys, prostitution/dominatrix MC, edging and overstimulation, begging and slight dacriphilia, implied stalking, classism, asshole rich guy being conniving and entitled who could’ve guessed, MC is subjected to corporate bullshit, um tell me if I missed anything

Byakuya couldn’t help but feel just a bit awkward. It’s not like anyone at this kitschy cafe would really stare at him this late in the evening, even with him being the sole survivor of the Togami name and all; it was dark out and a weekday so most would be at home, not actively seeking out more caffeine.

This place was your recommendation, and after sending that private investigator after you a while back he found out that this is a place you liked to schedule meetings with clients, but this cafe was too low brow for his liking; tacky decor, shoe prints scuffed onto the floor, and a few too many frazzled college students damn near weeping into their coffee mugs as they furiously hammer away on their keyboards. Not to mention, his tea was a little oversteeped; Just awful, Byakuya thought to himself, clenching on the toy faithfully nestled inside of him, how long do I have to wait in this dump? In reality, it had only been a few minutes, but he had been waiting the whole day to get to this point, canceling his meetings and setting his work aside to get ready for this date.

Byakuya shifted in his seat, feeling himself throb and shiver as he remembered your instructions; clean himself up real nice inside and out, put on that nice new white shirt with the gold detailing that makes him look so pretty, and edge himself. Edge himself until he can’t stand it, until he is shaking and just wants to cry and be gifted release. Then get up, put himself together, straighten himself out, have his driver take him to this ridiculous cafe, and tell his driver to park the car in the alleyway and fuck off somewhere else until he is ready to go home.

Well he did, and now he waits sexually frustrated and irritated at everything, hands trembling slightly around the warmth of his mug as the bell tinkles above the front door and a cold breeze from the outside sends an electric current up his spine. He quickly takes a sip of his halfway full cup as the barista loudly welcomes in the newcomer, who’s murmured hello and approaching footsteps were all too familiar to Byakuya. He tried to ignore the pulse of excitement that shot to his cock, staring down at his drink nonchalantly, but he can’t prevent the quiet whimper that slips past his lips when he feels your gentle hand slide over his shoulder as you walk from behind him into view.

You’re as lovely as always, eyes captivating, smiling gently, and saying something in greeting he wasn’t listening to, far too busy drinking you in. You had all your usual luster but his heartbeat hammered uncomfortably loud in his ears as he gawked stone faced, just knowing you would be touching him, that he would finally be touching you. You look nice, but your clothes are notably non-constrictive. For easy access, Byakuya swallowed, just taking in your presence.

“Togami? Y’alright?” Your voice calls his attention as you sit down across from him, pulling your bag in your lap. He makes a little hmm? sound, face flushed and hands nervously stirring his tea. “Busy day, huh?”

His lips part as he pauses, wondering what to say. The last thing he wanted to do was dwell on small talk. “I’m here on time. What’s your excuse?” You had a quizzical look on your face; true, you were only about 10 minutes late, but that felt like centuries to Byakuya. He had wanted you for so many months ever since you had started interning at the Togami Corporation; You were all polite nods and smiles with uncaring sardonic eyes, bracing yourself for the lowly corporate job you signed up for. Even passing him in the hall there was something sarcastic in your bow, something joking in your tone- Oh yes what an honor Mr Togami, said with all the eagerness of a wooden board. Something about your frankness, your beauty, your humor- he hated it, hated how crazy you drove him.

“Traffic,” you dismissed lightly with a quirk to your brow. “Never knew you to be one for punctuality- in fact, I overhear enough gossip around the office to know that you’re never on time. Your meetings start and end according to your whims, right Mr Togami?” Byakuya swallowed, eyes trained on your fingers tap tap tapping against the tabletop. “And you came,” your fingers stilled, “right on time for me, didn’t you?” Clenching on the toy inside of him he glanced up to your gaze, quickly looked away as if he had been burned by the mere intimacy of the act, and nodded sheepishly. A tch aww left your smile as you tilted your head at him, your legs brushing against his under the table. “See, you can behave when you want to; you’re even wearing the shirt I picked out for you!” God, how your praises set him on fire, “Does that mean you did everything I asked of you?”

“Obviously, I’m not an animal.” He scoffed; he didn’t really know why he snapped like that when you already could tell how much he was enjoying being under your scrutiny, but what does a man like himself say to such a thing? Must he suffer the indignity of having his intelligence questioned? His hygiene? His physical endurance? His ability to follow simple fucking directions?

“Watch your tone.” You chided quietly, the sultry simplicity of those words made him dizzy, “How tragic it would be for you to have gotten this far just to have me punish you because you chose to be a brat. Wouldn’t that be sad?” He nodded once, his tongue darting out to wet the corner of his mouth as he took a nervous deep breath. “You gotta use your words, honey.”

He felt his pride tightening his throat in defiance to being spoken down to in such a manner, causing him to simply gawk once more. He ached for you, your touch and your simpering mockery and your confidence all had him throbbing with the need to finally feel your skin on his. All he wanted was to be worthy under your wry gaze, to impress you, to please, to-

Suddenly you stood, lifting your bag onto your shoulder and pushing in your chair. “Listen, if you’re not ready for this-”

“I am!” He exclaimed a little too quickly, face scorching hot with embarrassment. “I just- it’s hard! For me to-” Byakuya lets out a slow angry sigh as he averts his gaze, more frustrated with himself than you, “It’s difficult for a man in my position to- to trust someone with this.”

You blinked at him, unimpressed, “It’s understandable to be nervous, but we worked out the do’s and don'ts at our previous meeting, remember? And the NDA.” Something softened in your voice, “I see you hesitating. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. This is all at your own pace, remember? Let’s do this when you are more emotionally ready.” You turn, starting to take your first step away to the door when suddenly he snatches your wrist in his tight grasp. Looking down, you see that Byakuya’s eyes now lack the austereness they usually carry, replaced with an embarrassed yearning.

“I am,” he positively pleads, sounding more sure than ever, “I need this. Please- Please show me.” The depth of your eyes makes him breathless as you search his face for a moment, before slipping your wrist out of his grasp and gently taking his hand, smiling; your warmth against his uncalloused palm made him annoyingly giddy.

“Then be a good boy and put your mug on the counter so the nice barista doesn’t have to come all the way over here to clean it up.” You let go of his hand. “I’ll be waiting by the door.”

A burst of excitement shoots through his chest, full of relief as he gingerly stands up, the toy settling inside of him as he grasps the half full cup by the rim. He is so ecstatic at not letting you slip through his grasp, he only is slightly affronted at having to do the plebeian’s work and return the ugly mug of oversteeped tea to the sticky counter, where the barista is too preoccupied with their phone to even thank him for gracing the trash bin they called a cafe. As he gently sets the glass on the granite counter, Byakuya watches you across the room; you’re looking through your bag triple checking you have everything you need, glancing out the window and checking the time as he approaches you.

“Good boy~” You purr, looping your arm through his. The bell above the door jingles as you enter the autumn night air together.

…

If he knew about how all consuming you would become to him, Byakuya would not have left finding interns for the Togami Corp to his underlings; he would have vetoed their decision, thrown out your resume, and eradicated the problem like crushing a bug beneath his expensive boot. This passion, this weakness has ruined him he knows, but the secrets of Pandora’s box cannot be silenced, and dammit neither can he while he lays underneath you.

You had thrown down a towel on the plush leather of the backseat of the car Togami arrived in. With his trousers, coat, and boxers discarded haphazardly over the partition and on the cab floor, Byakuya laid facing up with his white and gold shirt partially unbuttoned. You said missionary so he is in missionary, you said to hitch his knees up to his chest so now his socked feet were brushing the ceiling, and you said you wanted to put him in a cock ring and well, here he was.

“You’re so pretty like this, baby~” You mutter between kisses. He can hear the grin in your voice but he can’t care when you’re playing with the plug he brought inside himself, teasing his entrance with one hand and the other trailing up his chest to his throat. Diaphragm rising and falling, his dark pink head was leaking with arousal, aching and needy to burst already as your strap on brushes against his length. The car was filled with the humidity of sweat and cologne as you both took shelter from the quiet alleyway.

Using the bottle of lube from your bag you prep the strap for him, the slick sound emanating in the small space makes electricity shoot throughout his body. It was finally happening, having you so close and so alone; it almost felt like a dream to Byakuya, staring up at you like he was in a spell. The light from the street lamps outside barely illuminated you, the enclosing shadows making the space seem smaller, more intimate. The thought that no one but him was seeing you in this moment had him damn near keening. This was all for him, he owned this hour with you.

The plug was set to the side and Byakuya shakily sighed at the loss of sensation. Teasingly dragging the tip around his entrance, the slippery silicone of the toy creates a quiet squelching sound that makes Byakuya throb. Watching you unblinking, his desperation emanates from him, his pink lips silently form the words please please please.

As you start to ease in the head of the toy, his lips press together, glasses askew and eyes closed in a relaxed focus. A quiet noise resonated from his throat as it slipped in, his flushed chest rising and falling under his half unbuttoned dress shirt. Under you with his legs hitched up to his chest, his head was thrown back in pleasure and a few stray tears wetting his lashes and trickling down his temples.

“You’re so pretty like this, pet,” you coo, and he really is, “doing so well. Take me a bit more, yeah?” He shakily nodded, so you gradually pushed the girth deeper, his lips parting at the stretch. “How’s that feel, baby?”

He takes a shaky deep breath, practically panting in arousal as his member twitches, and his smooth white thighs shaking under his vice grip. “More.” He murmured; It doesn’t sound like a command like he intends it to be, more like a whine.

You give his thigh a hard smack, and when he jolts he accidentally rocks back and forth on the strap-on, gasping and opening his pleading eyes.

“Is that how you’re supposed to ask?” You say, your fingers massaging the tender pinking flesh. The words have him clenching around the toy, a tingling sensation darting through his limbs.

He chuckles diverting his wanton gaze up to the ceiling of the cab, Adam’s Apple bobbing, he clings to his embarrassment a bit longer as his tongue darts out and quickly licks his bottom lip. “I, uh-“ he falters, not because he doesn’t know the answer, but because he’s not sure if his pride can handle listening to his own voice admit to what he wants out loud.

You strike him again on the same side, this time on his ass cheek. A sigh, almost a squeak, escapes him as he furrows his brow at you, his eyes misty with longing and bashfulness. You start to pull out and Byakuya’s mouth drops open at the feeling; the head of the toy catching on his entrance before pushing it back in shallowly, only as deep as you had gotten before. He nearly keens as you strike him again but harder, lazily dragging the toy in and out, shallow thrusts that do nothing but tease his entrance.

“Please.” His voice cracks, eyes watering as he stares desperately, trying to move his hips to pull the toy deeper, so he gets another spank. He hums a stifled groan, heart skipping a beat.

“Please, what?” You demand with a shit eating grin, watching his obstinance melt under the pain and pleasure.

You, You, You, maddening beguiling You with your razor sharp smile somehow draining him of his dignity. He never signed up for this religion of his, but he found his new god in You whether he liked it or not.

“Fuck,” he grunts, squeezing his eyes shut and tilting his head away; his mouth is rosy and a little swollen from being kissed so much, and you can’t help but feel like there is something a bit Adonis-like to his face when he isn’t being so cold.

You grip him by his disheveled hair and force him to look at you; his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows and squeaks under his breath. “C’mon, pet,” You smack his hip hard, so much so that he bleats, his brows knitting together as he looks up with humiliated pleasure, “use your words.”

“I-“ As he falters a quiet whine resonates from the back of his throat, “I need it, please. Please fuck me. I- Master, fuck, I-“

He’s cut off as you finally thrust in deeper; his eyes roll back as he lets out a shrill ecstatic sigh, giving him what he so desires as we ease up to the hilt of the toy, your pelvis snug against his, the tip of the toys nestled snugly against his prostate. Dropping your grip on his ruffled blond locks, you caress up and down his soft thighs, letting him get used to the length.

“Better, sweetheart?” He jerks his head in a vague nod to the question. His breathing is ragged as he savors the stretch, lost in his own world as he trembles excitedly. His cock pulses, dripping and twitching on his abdomen.

“‘M ready. Please, master.” His tone is a little childish, a petulant whine to beg for his reward. A choked sob escapes him as your hand rubs his balls and you start to gently rock back and forth inside of him, admiring his flushed cheeks and focused expression.

“See, baby?” Your voice chimes with an undertone of mocking, pulling out a bit more for some real thrusting, “see how easy it is when you just behave? Get you everything you want.” As the toy gets pushed back in he lets out a small cry of pleasure, “Everything you want.”

Setting a slow pace, low drawling moans reverberate in his chest as people pass by at the entrance of the alleyway, just a few paces from his begging and debauchery, just a few meters from witnessing this young man’s dreams coming true. Byakuya reaches up to pull you in closer and kisses you feverishly, and when his lips open begging to taste you his noises are freed from his throat; between each lick and thrust he vocalizes, he can’t help it, filling up the tiny space. In this moment he is a thing to be owned, nothing else exists.

“Doin’ so well, being used like this. So perfect for me aren’t you?” He moans an ardent affirmative, “This what you want, baby?” You ask between kisses, a hand teasing his head.

He’s breathing heavier now, holding back his shrill panting in the back of his throat as the toy massages deep within him, grinding his hips flush against yours. “Please,” it’s a barely contained whisper, he has tears in his eyes and he looks like a dog begging, “please- I just need it. Fuck me hard. Please.”

Byakuya bites your lip and he grinds his hips in tandem to yours, his hands releasing their hold on his thighs, his feet planted firmly on the ceiling of the cab now as his hands grip your hips pulling you into practically lay on top of him. “Hmm?” you breathe, the sound almost a moan as his long elegant fingers grip like a vice into your back, into your skin. He can feel arousal of your own dampening your inner thighs at this point; Byakuya smugly wondered if you got this worked up for all your clients. Jolting him out of his thoughts you reach down and start to fist his straining cock, leisurely dragging the foreskin back and forth causing him to gasp and tense up, unconsciously pushing the strap out by an inch or two.

“No, please, not like this, I-“ he whines in a panic, gripping the wrist that has a hand on his dick; Byakuya stills you entirely, his fingers massaging your skin as he tries to relax and slow his breathing. Sighing, he plants kisses along your jaw over to the hollow of your ear, “I want- master, god fuck- just, please fuck me for real already, I- Oh~” Cutting him off as your hand lifts from his cock and grips his throat, you draw the length out and when you quickly snap your hips forward, his voice cracks he cries out so loudly and suddenly. Back and forth, you keep the steady rhythm, gripping his white hips and pounding into him hard, watching as he comes undone. For a moment his hands scramble for purchase against the leather seats, desperate for something to ground him as his loud moans filled the cab, a sensation he had never felt before spreading over every inch of his skin. Pleasure trickles through his nerves like a tsunami, pleasure that for the first time stretches beyond his cock, throughout his whole body.

Like the air is being punched out of his lungs, he rocks up against the seats, the crown of his blonde head brushing against the door behind him, his feet dragging on the ceiling, his long gangly legs framing your shoulders. Removing your hand from his throat, you grip the headrest of the front seat and give him deep powerful strokes that seize up his limbs painfully and have him shaking. Each cry melds into the last, quickly becoming a stream of moans each as loud and undignified as the one prior. The toy hits too deep, persistent and punishing and unbearably good. He doesn’t know how long the feeling lasts, but he remains on the edge of an orgasm like the ebb and flow of the sea; closer and closer still and then receding back into himself again. Weeping openly he begs, he has never felt this good before and that scares him, not knowing if he wants the sensation to end or go on forever.

Falling suddenly silent, Byakuya cums much quicker than he would have liked, gripping you hard in shock as his rigid limbs thrash at the sensation that he had never felt quite like this; like you had lit a flame in his feet and he felt it creep all the way up his body, slowly moving through his torso and making him shiver.

Even after his cock had stilled, his head was still spinning, his heart hammering. Keeping one hand on your hip to keep you flush against him, his other hand reached up and brushed his hair out of his eyes, bumping his glasses clumsily. He shudders as you carefully remove his cock ring. You were certain that for once not a single thought was in that beautiful head of his as he blinked his wet lashes slowly and dreamily.

When he glanced down at himself, he was surprised to see that there wasn’t any cum on him. He had cum dry, his cock a bit more relaxed after removing the cock ring but still stiff. He almost couldn’t believe that you made him feel that good without the external release he was so accustomed to; he might’ve described it as witchcraft if he was a superstitious man.

“I want…” Byakuya says much too slowly, much meeker than he would have liked, “I want to make you cum. Can I?” His heart soars when you chuckle. “Sit on my face, please? I want- I want to please you too.”

“You are a good boy, aren't you?” Leaving the toy inside of him, he watches you as you unbuckle the strapon from your hips. “Damn near read my mind, baby~” You sound delighted as you crawl over him, his awkwardly long legs cramping up against the door by his feet. His heart melts when you gently remove his glasses from his face with a laugh, setting them off to the side somewhere as you saddle up to his face, gripping his hair and pulling him forward to your heat.

He is shocked by how the smell of your sex drives him mad, incapable of stopping himself from breathing in frantically like a hound as he grips the fat of your hips. After one tentative lick he is hooked, burying his face between your thighs and devouring you feverishly like a man starved. His cock throbs at the taste, his heart leaping out of his chest at your quiet groaning and your firm grip on his hair. He needs this shit on tap, he realizes, Byakuya can’t live without this. Your taste at the back of his throat, swirling his tongue passionately along your slit while groaning in excitement makes him feel high. He is thrilled when you really start to get into it, moving his head back and forth and humping his face like he’s your toy, making his jaw ache. You need him so badly as you grow swiftly closer to your climax, your voice rising and your pace speeding up. Your arousal starts to ooze out of the corners of his mouth as he eagerly works his tongue to your pleasure.

Byakuya’s hips leap when you reach back around and start playing with his throbbing cock; Much to his embarrassment he ejaculates immediately with a loud grunt, pleasure overtaking him once again. The orgasm this time does not keep him in limbo like the last one did, instead it is reliable and easy, though notably more intense than normal. Semen paints his stomach, shooting out of him hot and fast, leaving him trembling ferociously once again. Even after his cum soaks your hand you don't stop stroking him, riding his face harder as you gradually come up on your own release, overstimulating him in the process.

His throbbing pleasure transforms into an aching numbness. Hungrily, he grips you fiercely and yanks you forward, forcing you to lean against the door above his head and suffocate him with your weight, grinding on his mouth. It’s heaven when he finally makes you cum, filling his mouth with you and making you shout. He needs this, Byakuya thinks to himself, he needs this warmth between your quivering thighs forever. It’s where he belongs; It’s where you belong.

After a few minutes, when you come down from your high, you ease yourself off of him with a shaky laugh that reignites his pride. He made you feel like that. Byakuya was the one who summoned the relaxed expression on your face as you straddled his waist, carefully brushing his bangs out of his eyes. You say something but he is so zoned out he doesn’t hear you. “Hm?” Byakuya breathes out, squinting up at your blurry form dreamily.

“Feeling good, huh?” Your chuckle and teasing grin melt his already relaxed self. “All I said was that you did well.”

Byakuya had a hard time thinking of a response. He was so blissed out, so at ease as he absentmindedly massages your now bruising hips. After a long pause he sharply chimed, “Our hour isn’t up yet.”

“Still got more in you?” You sounded surprised.

“Just-” Byakuya slowly shook his head, face heating up. “Just reminding you.” After removing the toy from inside of him and putting it in a ziplock baggy along with the plug and ring, he sat up with his back against the door and with you straddling his lap. “Where are my glasses?” He asked in an annoyed tone. After you retrieved them from under the driver’s seat, he donned them again, blinked at you, and sighed at the sight.

“So what do you want to do now?”

“Um,” Byakuya hesitated, his fingers clutching your soft waist possessively, not knowing how to ask for something more affectionate without embarrassing himself. He swallowed, avoiding your gaze. “I think I- well, let’s just relax for now.” He drawls sheepishly.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees you lift your hand and bring it up to his head; his scalp was thrumming from having his hair pulled a few minutes ago. As your deft fingers card through his blond locks, he admires the way you smile mockingly as he unconsciously leaned into your touch. “You’re cute~” He found something demeaning in your tone that sent a pulse of excitement to his spent cock; how the hell do you do that, he marveled.

“Do you… usually cum like that? With your clients, I mean.” Byakuya cleared his throat nervously, his jealousy ravenously clawing him apart from the inside out; he didn’t want to ask it but it came out anyway.

“Why do you ask?” You challenged teasingly, “I do have to be confidential about my clients, you know.” Anger tightened Byakuya’s throat, making him feel hot. Didn’t you know how special this was? How honored you should be that the Byakuya Togami has fallen for you? His own feelings disgusted him, but as your gentle fingers combed his blond locks from out of his eyes and back out of his face, he felt the rage melting out of him again. “Silly boy.”

His deft hands massaged your hips tenderly as he stared at you, watching as you gulped under the intensity of his gaze. You seemed uncomfortable, and some part of him liked it; seeing you squirm and glance away as he stared you down. “I want to schedule another appointment.”

The sound of your surprised laugh made his heart swell in a way he found particularly vexing. “Well I do love good business, but how about you pay me for this one first?” You snapped.

He grinned sleazily, feeling for the first time you were speaking a language he knew how to speak back. He grabbed his trousers from the floor and fished his phone out from one of the pockets. Ordering you a ride home, sending you the thousands of dollars straight from his personal account and pulling up his calendar with lightning speed, he breezed through to your next day off and canceled his meetings for that day with barely a glance in your direction. He knew your schedule inside and out from what the private investigator told him, so it was a breeze to find a day you were open.

Those measly thousands meant absolutely nothing to him; if they want to earn real money they’ll have to actually work for it, go where I want us to go and wear what I want them to wear! Byakuya thought to himself, not that trash cafe and these cheap rags for mere pennies to pay for that little hovel you called home.

He knew that if he eased you into the lifestyle of his caliber, gave you a taste for the finer things in life and got you attached to easy living, he would have you begging to be his lifelong pet- a modern day concubine all for himself. His smile was sinister as he watched you blink at his phone screen with great interest, gawking at all the pretty numbers. With the Togami fortune at your leisure, how could you ever deny him? Eventual mistresses and bastard children be damned, you’d be eating out of the palm of his hand in no time, an empty headed little bird trapped in a gilded cage. And the thought alone had his cock pulsing with excitement again.

——-

Yandere Byakuya smut! Please leave a comment and constructive criticism! I hope you enjoyed <3

[bebop-and-oysters]

Dancing Queen (Finished)

Hi my friends, so I decided to expand on my IceMav fic that I posted earlier and it sort of got out of hand. We are currently at a little over 2.5k words that my lovely beta, Dante, has graciously picked apart and added criticism for. I hope you enjoy this piece, and please be nice as it has been about 5-6 years since I last wrote non-academically! Thank you!

I'll be posting this on my AO3 under the same username and linking it in the comments if anyone would prefer to read this that way!

Also here's some CWs for this story! Please avoid if any of these are triggers or they're just not your thing and this does have spoilers for the original Top Gun!

CW// alcohol consumption, canon death of characters alluded to, past straight relationship, allusion to 'taking things to bed,' use of the word "fruity" as a double entendre, occasional cursing

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maverick always loved to dance, he’s always loved performance. From wooing people in bars with off-key performances of “You’ve Lost that Loving Feeling” to a simple box step with Goose to get laughs out of the other pilots over the years. Maverick could never quite get dancing out of his system, and no one ever asked him to. 

With Charlie, she would begrudgingly take his hand on the dance floor and he’d swing her wide and dip her till she was just a few inches from the ground. She’d always bat at his arm when he pretended to drop her but knew she’d be safe, he never let anyone fall if he could avoid it. 

When he was dancing, his face would light up like a kid. Most people didn’t know that he danced with his Mama as a little boy, especially after his Dad passed on. She was always quieter when she was mourning, but she never refused a dance with Maverick. His favorite thing was making his Mama happy, and what better way to make her grin than dancing?

When Goose passed, it was hard to dance. Charlie tried to get him to dip her, would wrap her arms around his neck and croon a blurb of a song and Maverick would just bury his face in her hair and weep. It was too much to dance for a while. And then came Iceman. 

——————

Iceman hated to dance. He was never on the dance floor, and everytime someone asked him to dance he waved them off with a smile before returning to his drink, a sour expression masking his previous light and airy grin. 

Iceman always avoided dancing, too many Military formals growing up made him averse to any sort of dance. Young women crowding him, big eyes and shy smiles while asking him in voices much too high to be their real ones if he’d like to join them. He’d gotten good at making excuses, citing tiredness or a need for a drink or even on three separate occasions that he’d hurt his ankle and couldn’t possibly dance (he hadn’t). 

He always watched Maverick on the dance floor though. He and Goose mockingly trouncing about to the Chicken Dance, Maverick and Charlie slow dancing surrounded by a sea of couples, Maverick alone after Charlie transferred to DC and Goose had passed on, entertaining the rest of the bar with a terrible (and a bit sorrow tinged) rendition of Great Balls of Fire and a little two step he made to go with it. 

It was practically blinding how big Maverick’s smile got while dancing. 

Iceman hates that he noticed how happy dancing made Maverick. He also hates how Maverick always seems to float off the dance floor, covered in sweat, grin splitting his face, eyes wild and brighter than what seems possible. Maverick always collapsed in the third chair at the bar, the bartender setting in front of him a flouncy drink in a glass too tall for anything other than a neon colored monstrosity. 

Iceman would only look for a second, any longer and he would be caught out. Maverick always seemed to know when he was being watched though, and Iceman could feel those bright eyes boring into the side of his head from his spot at the opposite end of the bar. 

On the Anniversary of Goose’s death, Maverick stood on top of a table in the bar and belted out “Great Balls of Fire” half drunk and practically sobbing. The entire Top Gun Crew joined in out of solidarity. Iceman joined in quietly from the bar, voice melodic while he made eye contact with Maverick. Maverick grinned at him, eyes tearing up at the corners as he led the practically shouting bar through the next verse. Iceman closed out Maverick’s tab for the night and requested for the bartender to cut him off or only give him water to drink. 

After that, on more than one occasion, Maverick had sidled up next to him at the bar and grinned widely, patting Iceman on the back and asking if he could buy him a drink. Iceman always refused but said he could join him for one if he liked. Maverick always took him up on his offer. 

Iceman was the kind of guy to say that he only likes single malt scotch on the rocks but secretly his favorite drink was a Mai Tai with a little umbrella and a wedge of pineapple. Maverick was the kind of guy to order a cocktail to see the wide eyed looks of shock while he’s sipping on the tiny floral straw that comes with it and taking bites of alcohol soaked fruit. He never really liked the drinks he ordered, he was just doing it to make people laugh and to get as drunk as possible. 

Maverick could tell that Iceman hated what he ordered too. His grimaces over the lip of his glasses were obvious if you watched him closely, not that Maverick watched closely of course he just…happened to notice, that's all. He was Iceman’s wingman, it was his greatest honor, what wingman wouldn’t notice their partner’s furrowed brows and stone set mouth every time he took a sip of that aged whiskey. 

While Iceman took a break from his drink, a look of relief spreading across his face as he stood to walk to the bathroom, Maverick quickly waved over the bartender and ordered another drink before speeding off. 

Iceman did not expect to find the rest of his drink gone, a neon orange Alabama Slammer in its place, when he returned from the bathroom. Nor did he expect a little note on a napkin with a simple smiley face and a ‘thanks for the drink, wingman’ scribbled haphazardly on it. He chuckled while a blush fought to spread up his face, Maverick might be more dangerous than he thought.

After that, the drink trading becomes common, a glass of ‘15 Dalmore set next to the jukebox, an amaretto sour sat on the bookcase next to a copy of “The Iceberg Hermit,” and, on one fateful occasion, two drinks sat next to each other on top of the piano after the jukebox croons out “You’ve Lost that Loving Feeling.” Maverick doesn’t join any of the dancers on the dance floor that night.

——————

The first time they trade drinks in the bathroom, Maverick and Iceman both had stopped to wash their hands and while drying them, Maverick reaches over and swaps their drinks. 

Maverick picks up his own drink and finishes it in just a few gulps, holding the glass almost nervously. 

Iceman stares at the side of his face, puzzled but eventually picks up the drink Maverick passed over. He fights a smile while gulping down the deathly sweet concoction, liquor covered maraschino cherry crunching between his teeth.

Maverick looks over quickly without turning his head and smiles at Ice in the mirror like he’s the last person on earth and Ice sort of grins and does his little bite move at him. Maverick turns and they laugh at each other as Iceman’s ears go pink tinged on the edges while Maverick tells Iceman, 

“Y’know, you could always order any cocktail you want, nothing wrong with liking things a bit fruity.” 

He winks at Iceman before striding out of the bathroom, finished drink in hand. Iceman stands frozen for a minute wondering if that really just happened. 

——————

The next time they trade drinks, poor Iceman doesn’t even know it until Maverick has snatched his whiskey tumbler out of his hand. 

Ice has been trying to remain effortlessly cool while trying not to grimace over his drink before Maverick stares him in the eyes while downing the entire glass. Maverick quirks an eyebrow at him and makes an obnoxious “ahhh” sound once he finishes it. 

Iceman is shocked, staring at him aghast before stomping off to the bathroom, Maverick trailing a minute behind with a Blue Hawaiian Frozen in one hand and a cocky grin on his face. 

Iceman is hunched over the sink in the men’s bathroom splashing water on his face before staring at Maverick through the mirror walking in with a drink in hand. 

Maverick was so kind, kinder than anyone Iceman knew possibly. It was hidden under the bravado and the cocksure walk and the constant need to be correct but oh was he kind. 

He gives Iceman a wide grin that he must have meant to be confident and arrogant but just comes across sweet and a bit embarrassed and holds out the drink to Iceman, who takes it and sips lightly, staining his tongue with Blue Curaçao. 

When Iceman finishes his drink, he sets it to the side of the bathroom counter and Maverick takes a few strides towards him, watching intently as he flicks his blue stained tongue up over his top lip to catch a stray droplet of his drink. 

In a whirlwind of action, Iceman would grab Maverick by the lapels and pull him closer, crashing their mouths together roughly. Maverick answers in kind, gripping the back of Iceman’s neck and crowding him against the counter. 

By the time they pull apart reluctantly, Maverick’s hair is stuck straight up out of his head from how many times Iceman has run his hands through it and both of their lips are kiss swollen and their tongues tinged with blue. They smile at each other and Maverick awkwardly salutes Iceman with a lopsided grin and fixes his collar and his hair in the mirror before practically skipping out of the bathroom, drunk on Iceman. 

Iceman stands frozen for the second time they’ve met in this bathroom before shaking himself out of his daze and lightly touching his lips, a small smile settling over his face. 

——————

Every time after that, they meet in the bathroom and crash together like they’re magnetized. Iceman never understood what a whirlwind romance meant till he met Maverick. It was like standing in the eye of a hurricane, blessedly untouched while havoc is wreaked right outside your line of view. 

Maverick always came bearing a drink, and eventually began begging for Iceman to come dance with him. Iceman always refused with a chuckle and a chaste kiss to Maverick’s cheek, saying politely, 

“Not tonight, maybe another time.” 

——————

Maverick was suspicious, he and Iceman had…well, something going on certainly. They had made out in the bathroom more than once and, while it was wonderful, it felt like this might go past a simple fling. Call him a hopeless romantic, but Maverick loved love and he loved to love Iceman. Shit. He loved Iceman, oh wow it made so much sense! 

He knew the pull of love well, he remembered what it was like to love openly with Charlie. His heart ached at the love burned out of his chest that was left over from Goose. He loved flying, the cresting, shaking, death defying feeling of flying. He loved Carole and Bradley like they were the closest thing he had to family anymore and in a way they were. But he loved Iceman, it really wasn’t that huge of a revelation. The dull thrum of his heart beat extra hard near the blond man, his cocky grin and harsh attitude lit a spark in Maverick’s gut. It was like loving your worst enemy and your greatest friend. And weren’t love and hatred two sides of the same coin?

He wonders distantly, brain swirling with a rose tint settling over the box in his head he’s labeled “Iceman,” if he feels the same.

——————

Maverick eventually starts inviting Iceman over to his house, hoping that maybe if Iceman weren’t in public, he’d want to dance. 

It doesn’t work, Iceman is resolute in his opinions about dancing, although he enjoys the show when Maverick feels the itch to get up and move. 

Maverick tries everything, begging, bargaining, withholding affection (how quickly he faltered at that when Iceman asked if he wanted to go upstairs was quite frankly astonishing). Nothing worked. He thought it would never happen, never in his life would he get Iceman to dance with him. But he kept trying, just in case.

——————

It took months for Maverick to convince Iceman to dance with him, the first time was after making breakfast, he heard Iceman pad downstairs sleep rumpled and wearing a shirt of Maverick’s that was a bit on the tight side, the dulcet tones of Ella Fitzgerald drifting melodically while Maverick hummed along, Ice snuck up behind him to wrap around him and asked what he was cooking (he was cold but refused to say that so he just molded himself around Maverick for body heat) and Maverick just said “breakfast” and smiled while Iceman smacks the back of his head lightly. Maverick laughed and then made an exceptionally good puppy dog face and said, 

“Well now you have to dance with me to make up for hitting me!”

Ice laughed in his face before realizing he was serious. With a deep lumbering sigh, he agreed and Maverick’s face lit up so bright Iceman felt like he was staring at the sun.

Maverick took the food off the stove and they slowly danced in a circle until Maverick realized Iceman didn’t actually know how to dance.

“Ice, do you know how to dance?”

Iceman remained quiet, a blush crept up from his neck 

“Oh Ice, you could have told me! C’mon, I’ll teach you how, ok?” 

Maverick beamed at him and Iceman nodded minutely, allowing him to take his hands. 

Maverick walked him through the leading steps until Iceman snapped lightly at him, 

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it” 

But he didn't have it and had his feet stepped on more than once. Maverick took over again and Ice tucked his face into the crook of Mav’s neck and they just sort of swayed. 

Maverick pulled back and looked up at Iceman,

“Don’t worry, I’d never leave my wingman! To dance alone that is-”

“Maverick.”

“Hm?”

“Shut up, I already agreed to dance.”

Maverick stared at him awestruck for a moment, heart pounding before a wide grin spread across his features.

Maverick had left the back door open and the ocean breeze drifted in, warm, smelling like fresh rain and salty enough to dry your skin out if you’re not careful. 

Neither of them seemed to care as they spun around, trapped in their own bubble.

—————

This would become a tradition over the years. 

Their morning dance on the weekend, their evening drinks at the bar. Sometimes they’d go down to the sea and play a game of volleyball and Iceman would win every single time. But only because he had the height advantage Maverick would say. 

Poor Iceman never did learn how to lead their dance, so he spends his time hunching over Maverick, his face occasionally buried in the crook of his neck, murmuring a forgotten song that only the two of them dance to anymore. 

Maybe they’d only get a bit of time together but God would that time be beautiful. As much as Iceman is ice cold in the air, he’s a melted puddle down on Earth with Maverick.

~~~~~~~~~~~

SO! How did we like it? Good? Bad? Leave your comments or criticism below! I am very sensitive so please be nice when leaving criticism but as I said it's been many years since I've written so I do want to get back in the saddle so to speak. I'm also incredibly vain so anyone that leaves a good comment or compliment does receive a kiss on the forehead! Anyway, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Much love to you and yours!

Love, Rory <3 =)

[realcube]

HQ BOYS REACT TO YOU FAKE CRYING  

characters ♡ yaku, kenma, kayegama & iwaizumi 

content warning ♡ fake crying, mentions of murder, hurt/comfort, fluff & timeskip! iwaizumi (no mature themes, just domesticity)

credit ♡ thank you to 🍦anon for this request

morinosuke yaku

♡ why did you need to need to practise in the bedroom?? in his bedroom, no less

♡ your show was quickly approaching and you recalled the scene where you were to burst out into tears on stage, and you hadn’t yet rehearsed how you were going to do that

♡ honestly, you were under the assumtion that yaku would have no problem with you practising while in his bedroom bc he has ran lines with you in the past and this was hardly any different

♡ so sat, thinking about the most horrible, morbid, grotesque things you possible could, all while keeping your eyes wide open and not blinking so soon enough, the tears started rolling

♡ proud of yourself, you smirked before burying your face into your hands; now to add sobs!

♡ it started out with mere snivels but then as you got more confident, it built up to full on bawls which were loud enough to gain yaku’s attention from the kitchen

♡ he was quick to rush over to his bedroom, his soul audibly leaving his body when he saw your upset weeping figure on the bed

♡ he basically pounced on you and engulfed you with his embrace, ‘dear! what’s wrong? are you alright? who hurt you?!’ the questions were fast falling off his tongue as cradled your head, leaving no room for you to speak without being muffled by his chest or arms

♡ and when he noticed that you were trying to speak, he simply hushed you, ‘shh! it’s okay, dearest.’ and continued to whisper ‘comforting’ stuff like that in your ear 

♡ he thought he was helping but really he was just preventing you from getting you point across

♡ eventually, you managed to escape his steel grip and gasp, ‘yaku! i’m fine! look — no tears!” you gestured to you damp cheek, “i was just practising for my role! i’m not actually sad. though, it’s cute that you care so mu--”

♡ as soon as yaku heard the word ‘practising’ he immediately recalled how you mention you have a sad scene where you need to cry and his natural reflex was to lean backwards, grab a massive teddy bear that sat behind him which he had won at a carnival for you but you insisted that he keep it bc you didn’t want to carry it home

♡ ...and he threw it straight at you, causing you to fall backwards and burst out laughing at how you were currently being straddled by a big teddy bear 

♡ ‘(y/n)! i thought you were hurt! you can’t just fake cry without telling me first- i was so worried! like i thought it was real and--’ this went on for an elongated amount of time, yaku ranting while you added a faint ‘sorry!’ whenever you saw the opportunity 

♡ eventually, he stopped only to take a deep breath, visibly calming doing as his chest heaved, ‘alright. what’s done is done; it’s fine. you worried me though, (y/n). i thought you were being for real, what then?’

♡ you nodded, smiling at his softened expression as your lips twisted into a smirk at his final comment. cocking a brow, you purred, ‘so...you think i’m a good actor? tha--’

♡ pow! another plushie to the face! K.O! 

kenma kuzome 

♡ as a joke, you dabbed water under your eyes a few times so you could send your friend a snap of you ‘crying’ and ofc kenma had to walk in at exactly the wrong time 

♡ you were over at his house, chilling on his couch while he was upstairs talking to kuroo over the phone— he said he’d only be a moment but almost half an hour had passed and he still showed no sign of coming back downstairs, though you couldn’t blame him as kuroo does have a tendency to be overly descriptive when spilling tea

♡ anyway, as soon as you had sent your snap, you placed your phone down and scanned the room in search of some tissues to wipe you eyes with, when kenma barged in 

♡ ‘hey, (y/n). i’m sorry that took so lo--’ when his gaze shifted from his phone onto you, sitting on the couch with tears streaming down your cheeks, he immediately cut himself off

♡ at first, you were frozen, simply staring at each other; as if he had just walked in on you committing a violent act of homicide in his living room 

♡ honestly you were too stunned to move at first but if you could, you’d probably say something along the lines of ‘this isn’t what it looks like’ but before you could even open your mouth, kenma edged towards you until he was able to outstretch his arms and wrap you in his warm embrace 

♡ with your cheek pressed against his warm hoodie, basking in an uncommon blissful silence, you postponed your explanation until you were finished enjoyed how his nimble fingers caressed your back

♡ you hummed, your lips curling a smile at how comfortable you felt in his arms and how nice his hoodie smelt, since it usually reeked of an unholy mixture of body spray and monster energy 

♡ he planted a kiss upon your head, murmuring into your hair, ‘baby, what’s wrong?’ 

♡ you were quick to swipe away your ‘tears’ with the back of your hand, ‘i’m fine, don’t worry.” you chirped, beaming at him to reinforce this point, ‘it’s just water, for a silly video i sent to my friends.’

♡ kenma blinked rapidly, staring down at your seemingly genuine smile

♡ honestly, you expected him to tease you or be irritated that you made him reveal a hidden soft side of himself for no reason, since he’s usually quite private with his emotions 

♡ but instead, the corners of his lips just lifted into a slight smile as pushed your head back against his chest, then resting his head upon yours, ‘oh, that’s cool.’ he breathed, his warm, calming voice causing your eyelids to become heavy — that and the fact you had went on a run not too long ago

♡ kenma felt your eyes flutter shut against his chest so he slowly leaned backwards, holding you against his hoodie as he laid down, allowing himself to doze off with you snuggled up on his heaving torso 

hajime iwaizumi

♡ you were making iwaizumi dinner, cutting onions and cooking curry

♡ so it was not surprising when tears started brimmed at your eyes, eventually slipping from your lashline and trickling down the soft skin of your cheeks, leaving you to blink rapidly to lubricate your burning eyes

♡ iwaizumi had just came out the shower, he had dried off but when he came downstairs and peered into the kitchen, he was wearing just a towel which was draped around his hips, ‘mm, something smells good. whatcha cookin’, baby?’

♡ he didn’t plan on staying downstairs for long, which is why he didn’t throw on a shirt; all he wanted to do was get to the bottom of what that magnificent aroma was that he smelled from upstairs, then once he figured it out, he’d go back upstairs, get changed, then head back down for dinner 

♡ but his plan was cut short when he noticed crystalline tears pouring from your red, puffy eyes 

♡ without thinking or taking into consideration why your eyes are red, his immediate reaction was to dash over to your side and slip his arms around your waist, puling you in so that one of your hands had no choice but to rest on his back while the other continued to stir the pot

♡ noticing that your watery eyes were still fixated on the curry, he took your chin inbtween his fingers and forced you to cook at him, ‘why’s my angel crying? hm?’ he cooed, features painted with genuine worry and concern

♡ you lifted a brow, stifling a chuckle at how silly he was being, ‘what do you mean?’

♡ before you could process anything else, iwaizumi bought you in for a passionate kiss with the his hand pressing against the small of your back, only pulling away so he could rest his head on your shoulder and hum into your ear, ‘you can tell me anything, angel, so what’s on your mind?’

♡ you bottom lip quivered at his intimate action — you might just start crying for real 

♡ biting your bottom lip, you resisted your tears and forced out a laugh, ‘what’s on my mind? well,’ you started, momentarily letting go of the ladle so you could hug back, ‘i have to make dinner for my himbo husband, but the onions and spices are burning my eyes. pray for me, iwa.’

♡ it took him a moment to register what you just said. he’d been in the kitchen many times so by now he was basically immune to the way onions and spices affect the eyes, so he completely forgot that stuff like that happens. he honestly, wholeheartedly thought that you were crying real tears of sadness while making dinner

♡ he impulsively pushed you away, crossing his arms over his chest and his initial kind expression lowering into a scowl, ‘who are you calling a himbo?! i just forgot that some people have weak-ass eyes. bye.’ he spat, clearly trying his best not to laugh as he stormed off to his room, keeping a firm grip on his towel the whole time 

♡ don’t worry, though. he was back ten minutes later — fully clothed — to eat dinner with you :))

♡ but don’t mention it ever again or else he’ll blush and tell you it ever happened 

tobio kageyama 

♡ you were scrolling on your fyp and found a video of a person explaining how to cry on command and you didn’t believe it’d actually work so you tried it

♡ as it turns out, it does work and now you are sitting on your bed with tear stained cheeks and a dry throat, completely zoned out until kageyama came marching into your bedroom

♡ it was in that moment that you recalled that you had invited him over for a movie night and you had left your front door unlocked for him, hence he must’ve invited himself in

 ♡ ‘sorry i’m late, but i brought doritos.’ he spun on heels after closing the door, doritos in hand but not for long because as soon as he noticed your cheek glistening the lamplight, he instantly dropped them to rush over to you 

♡ ‘eh? (y/n)? are you crying?’ he asked with a harsh voice, which wouldn’t help if you really were crying. instinctively, he reached out for your hand and began pressing kisses to the back of it 

♡ he wasn’t really too sure on what exactly he could do or say to comfort you, so he recollected on the time you tried to cheer him up after he lost a big game. you lay beside him on his bed, humming a distant tune that matched the one playing in his ear from his earbuds. one hand threading through his hair while the other cupped his cheek so you could press occasional, soft kisses on his cheek while he set to himself. it was calming, and it definitely worked in making him feel better. usually, it’d take him months to recover after a devastating loss like that, but with you by his side and giving him support, he was back to his normal self in a couple weeks

♡ well, as normal as it gets for kageyama

♡ you gently shook your head, admiring his adorable actions and allowing his to continue as you used your spare hand to wipe away your artificial tears

♡ ‘oh, sweetie, i love you so much.’ you mused, thinking up a way to start your story without sounding foolish  

♡ but perhaps you shouldn’t have began your explanation with a term of endearment as his impulse with to promptly throw his arms around you, holding onto your torso tightly 

♡ you were taken back for moment, wheezing slightly as kageyama squeezed the air out of you but finally able to speak once he relaxed his arms, ‘tobio! nothing’s wrong, don’t worry. i was just testing to see if i could fake cry or not. i’m not actually crying.’

♡ kageyama’s eyes widened and he paled

♡ you weren’t actually in need of comfort? then why did he just get all soft? for nothing?

♡ ‘no.’ was his simple response which he punctuated with another kiss on the back of your hand

♡ you couldn’t help but giggle, taking advantage of this opperuntiy to reach out and ruffle his hair, ‘yes. i’m seriously okay. i’m happy, actually, because i get to spend my evening watching movies with you!’

♡ surprisngly, he didn’t glare at you for messing up his hair — since it was already untidy — and just took a seat beside you, keeping ahold of your hand as if it was a fragile gem, ‘i don’t believe you.’

♡ you laughed, realising that he was clearly making excuses for openly showing affection and being soft so you just let him, hopping to your feet and tugging your hand away from him so you could grab the doritos he dropped, ‘whatever you say, tobio.’

♡ he pouted but it was only brief as he was soon able to take your hand once more, ‘yeah..’ he grunted, averting his eyes so you didn’t see the blush creeping onto his cheeks, ‘whatever, just put on the stupid movie...stupid (y/n)...i love you..’

[youarejesting]

Hope in the sheets.10

[Masterlist]

Beta: N/A Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Genre: Friendship, Comedy, Soft boy, Fluff, SMUT, Friends2Lovers, Words: 5k

Summary: You held many titles: his neighbor, colleague, wing-man… well, more likely a wing-woman, yet most importantly, you were his best friend. You had been friends since you were born. Between the two of you, you were younger; barely, but he never let you forget it. He always seemed to ruffle your hair and tease you, which could get rather annoying but he made up for it by treating you to things.

What if a drunken one night stand between you and your best friend Hoseok leads to more complicated situations? Your reckless twenties are cut short as you find yourself suddenly responsible for something a little more.

Warning: Implied sex, pregnancy, implied reader has baby.

[First] [Previous] [Masterlist] [Next]

Hoseok and the others were eventually led into the birthing suite; the entire place had been cleaned and only the bare minimum of staff stayed behind. They were sorting out equipment and monitoring your current state. When his eyes landed on yours he felt emotions bloom in his chest. There you were laying in the bed, a small bundle of soft blankets nestled delicately in your arms. You had showered and dressed in a nightdress that had been packed in your hospital bag. 

Hoseok’s lip curled. He was trying to hold his expression, giving you a forced smile before he broke out into tears. Holding your free arm out to him, he stumbled into your embrace kissing your forehead and telling you how much he loved you. 

His words were broken by the force of each sob. “Are you going to hold her, or do we have to hold you?” Yoongi playfully teased. Hoseok wiped his eyes taking a few shakey deep breaths trying to calm his emotions. 

When you moved the blanket to show your daughter laying gently against your chest, he was a mess once more. “Hobi, you want to hold her?”

“I can hold her?” He hadn’t even thought that far ahead. He could hold this baby, his daughter, he could hold her in his arms and she was real. 

“Of course you can hold her.” You laughed, reaching up to wipe his tears away. Hoseok remembered everything he was taught from the birthing classes, practically reciting them out loud. You placed his daughter in his arms and his bottom lip fell. 

Tears were his automatic response. There was nothing else, this miracle, this symbol of his love for you, his best and longest friend. This was his child, his flesh and blood and he couldn’t thank you enough for giving him such a gift. 

“You have to stop crying Hobi, we need a nice picture for your family.” You smiled and he tilted his head back sniffing. 

“I love you so much, and I love her, I just can’t stop crying.” The words broke again Hoseok turned to show off his daughter to his friends. They were some of the people he was closest to and when he looked at them they were all crying. Jungkook’s wet cheeks and red nose, Jimin’s sweet puffy eyes bubbling with tears, even Yoongi let out a stray sniff. 

By far it was a sight to see big burly Namjoon openly weeping like Hoseok and cooing over how precious she was. 

“Look how little she is,” Namjoon whimpered

“Her hands are so tiny too,” Hoseok said back. The two were just making it worse for each other, a back and forth of doting comments of your newborn each statement causing a fresh cycle of tears. 

The nurse who had been checking your vitals waiting to take you back to the ward rolled her eyes. “I have seen some sappy fathers but you brought a whole troop.”

“Gentleman it’s time to let mum and her baby get some sleep, the father can come back tomorrow morning any other guests can come two at a time during visiting hours.” She ushered the other six males from the room, Hoseok kissed you his cheeks were wet. 

“I don’t want to go.”

“Get some sleep Hobi, get the house ready. If all goes well I will be out of the hospital soon.” The nurse took your daughter from Hoseok’s arms. 

“Wait, can I give her a kiss?” You whispered. The nurse nodded bringing your daughter over allowing you to kiss her goodnight before she was wheeled down to the nursery. 

“Are you ready to go back to the ward? You should get some sleep. Your body will be exhausted. We will bring the child in when she is hungry.”

“Okay Hobi, I have to go rest now you head home and make the house all ready for when we come home okay.” You waved goodbye to him and watched as Jimin took his hand leading him from the room. He seemed reluctant to take his eyes off of you, his hand coming to lay flat under his heart. 

You touched your collar bone watching him mouth the words 'baseline'. It was like everything you ever wanted but such a weird and obscure way you got there. You wanted to be with Hoseok and cherish him and be loved in return, but you never thought you would get there by completely derailing your relationship and almost ruining your life. 

It was like you had to destroy what you had to build something better. It seems counterproductive and a step in the wrong direction but somehow you were able to shape the rubble of your friendship into a relationship stronger than before. 

You love Hoseok with all your heart and he only has eyes for you. It seems you were both delusional to believe that you weren’t in love. Everyone could see it except the two of you and now it was painfully obvious. 

Being a mother was kind of a shock. Scared when you woke up to cramps, only to remember you had already given birth, you were also woken throughout the night to feed your daughter. A part of you worried about taking care of someone, the responsibility setting in as being a mother was a full-time job.

“You are doing wonderful.” The nurse gave you some pain killers for your cramps, your uterus was slowly shrinking back to its regular size and you were uncomfortable. “Would you like me to get you anything?”

“I would love something to drink.” Voice hoarse from sleep, she nodded before setting off for you. You sat up watching the sunrise, your daughter sleeping soundly on the bed in front of you. She was so precious. Even with closed eyes she still wiggled and stretched her hands out to the warm glowing orb.

“Seonhee, do you like that name?” You whispered, taking out a small outfit: a white onesie with sunflowers and bright yellow footed pants with soft yellow ruffles on the butt. “Jung Seonhee.”

“Ah, is that her name?” The nurse smiled, placing some apple juice and water on the small bedside table. She sanitized her hands and began helping you with the baby's clothes and diaper, bagging the old clothes and disposing of the soiled diaper. She smiled down at the little girl in her bright outfit. “I think it suits her, Seonhee”

The doctor came by on her round, her hair pulled into a tight bun and her scrubs pastel blue with stalks. “You are looking better, how are you feeling?” There was no messing around, she was straight to business, checking for any concerns or pain. Your stomach was being palpated while she brought up things to look out for. “Ultimately if anything happens that you are unsure about, even if it is something silly like, should I have coffee while breastfeeding, call this number here, they are a great service and they will help you.”

“Thank you so much.” Taking the card you were handed and a little care package from the hospital, the nurse placed the card into the baby book which had accompanied you throughout pregnancy and after. “Am I okay to go home today?”

“You are all clear. Let us know what time you want to leave and we can have all the paperwork ready.” Pausing in the doorway, a young nurse almost bumping into her, she spun around, her coat swishing with her. “After giving birth a lot of women become a little moody, fatigued, or cry. This is totally normal as your hormones will be dropping back to a normal level. It is perfectly normal to feel these things during this time.”

“Ah, that’s good to know.” You replied while searching through the care package, glancing at some of the booklets and information sheets. There was a number for a community service where mothers take their babies to be weighed and receive checkups. The nurses had few information sessions on feeding techniques and developmental leaps. 

Looking forward to being a part of a group of new mothers, you knew you would have a lot of questions eventually. It would be nice to know if other mothers have similar concerns or effective tips for any future problems.

Hoseok arrived with a big smile, kissing you sweetly before heading over to scoop up his daughter. “Wait Hobi,” you stopped him, “I need to talk to you before you get all teary-eyed again.”

“Okay,” serious expression on his face he gave you all his attention.

“We need to agree on her name and sign the birth certificate.” The smile returned to his face, the twinkle in his eyes never dwindling since the moment he stepped into the room. “I like the name 선희 (Seonhee) written as 善 meaning Good or nice and 希 as in Hope”

Hoseok watched you write an example on a scrap piece of paper, and began nodding enthusiastically. Hands shaking the two of you eyed one another passing secret smiles, the taste of giggles on the tip of your tongue. Once the document was completed Hoseok’s hand swooped up into your hair, cradling your nape as he kissed you.

Neither lazy nor heated, the kiss was full and romantic, his lips telling a story against yours. The world stopped and only Hoseok existed. Until a shrill cry broke through the silence and the two of you apart. The cry brought with it the sound of machines and nurses walking down the hall.

“You want to go home,” Hoseok raced around the hospital bed towards your daughter, wiggling in the tiny hospital portable bassinet. His style was honestly amusing. Strips of fabric hanging from a graffitied shirt with a cargo jacket and sneakers. Strange to see him holding a baby but you loved it so much. 

Just because you were parents didn’t mean you had to get rid of everything you love. Sure you had to grow up and it was extreme. The transition you made while pregnant felt like your life was ending. That you would live to serve a tiny being. But seeing Hoseok still smiling the same, still wearing the same street hip hop style reassured you that you still had a life outside of being a mother and that would never change.

Of course, the two of you probably wouldn’t club anymore. It would be unfair if either of you went out without the other and unfair on your daughter if you were not there for her. Not to mention the cost of babysitting and the trust you would need in order to leave Seonhee with someone who wasn’t you or Hoseok.

Hoseok helped you with your bags packing the car, he had borrowed Jin’s for a smoother drive. Always thoughtful even on the littlest details. Sitting by the baby's car seat while Hoseok drove you home apologizing for every speed bump and every turn.

“Hoseok, I would like to go home before it is dark. You don’t have to drive that slow.” You laughed, he was being so serious like a knight or warrior preparing for battle to protect those he loves. In the reflection of the rearview mirror, you saw his lips twitch in amusement, the sun shining on his shaggy hair. “I love you.”

“Babe,” He whined, “you can’t say that when I am driving, I want to kiss you and then we really won’t get home before dark.”

His eyes flickered up to meet yours in the mirror before concentrating diligently once more on the road. He was singing softly to the radio as he crossed town, you must have fallen asleep as you were woken by his sweet laugh and some kisses on your cheek.

“We are home Lil darling.”

Breathing deeply trying to clear your head from your nap, as the fog in your mind disappeared your hands were secured in Hoseok’s as he helped you out of the car. Standing patiently for your body to catch up, the tender sensations in your stomach leaving you stiff.

“Seonhee, time to see your new home.” Hoseok scooped up the infant holding her to his chest as if it was the most natural thing like he had several years of experience. As opposed to this child being his firstborn. He took the soft yellow muslin wrap and covered her protecting her eyes from the afternoon sun.

Opening the door, you weren’t surprised, (mostly because you had spotted their cars on the curb) to see the boys sitting on your couch equally as excited to see you as they had been the day before in the birthing suite. Hoseok was placing your bag on the table when Seonhee started crying.

“Hey, sweetheart what’s wrong?” Hoseok patted her bottom to a steady rhythm hoping it would lull her back to sleep. Her crying continued and you felt your shirt grow damp, taking a seat you held out your hands for your daughter and nursed her while the boys kept their eyes firm on one another to respect your privacy.

“Are you drinking or are you sleeping?” You giggled at your daughter who was milk drunk. Burping her gently she wiggled releasing a few loud burps and spitting up a little onto the back of your hand and the small burp cloth you had been holding to her clothes.

“Let me take her while you clean up.” Yoongi smiled, scooping up your daughter, holding her so her head was supported, her arms and legs draped over either side of his arm. His other hand rubbed and patted her back gently as he swayed.

“You look like a squashed pie.” He smiled cheekily talking to the baby in his arms. “Cute bow shape lip from your mum, and your nose is very cute like Hoseok’s.”

“How dare you call her a squashed pie.” Namjoon tried to defend but when Yoongi turned he showed the infant, her cheek squished up against his arm, her drool slowly seeping between parted lips. “Okay, maybe a little but she is also adorable.”

“All babies look like aliens when they are born,” you grinned.

“But do you love her, more than anything else in the world?” Jungkook giggled trying to make small talk while also projecting his newfound love for such a tiny being.

“We just met, I need some time to get to know her some more.” You joke playfully curled up on the couch Seokjin handing you some dinner and a cup of tea while the boys took turns meeting your daughter.

“It says in the paperwork she can have a bath tomorrow, and that her first poo might be really yucky.” Hoseok read the take-home leaflets from the hospital and constantly checked on his two girls making sure they were both safe and sound.

“Put her in outfits you don’t care if they get destroyed,” Yoongi was singing something to the child. It was low and rough. He was talking about dreams, freestyling about how your daughter didn’t need to go to university and that she didn’t have to know everything right at this moment.  

Placing the little girl into Jimin’s waiting arms. His eyes sparkled and his lip dropped as he turned soft for the little girl.

“Hello, I am Uncle Jimin and I am going to spoil you so much.” His sweet voice gasped. He practically wiggled on the spot when she brought her fists up to her closed eyes and yawned. Taehyung was quietly snapping photos, careful not to use the flash as he didn’t want to hurt the baby's sensitive eyes, even while they were closed. He assured you, that he would get photos of everyone holding Seonhee. He had already captured Yoongi and was taking a few extra of Jimin with the small bundle.

It was honestly nice to see them all so supportive and there for your daughter. Images in your mind blooming of her first Christmas and birthday and all that would follow. Namjoon would buy her a green bike with flowers and tassels on the handles and Yoongi, helping assemble it before she woke up, attaching the training wheels for her safety.

Learning how to wrap people around her finger from her Uncle Jimin and then using it against them. She would be a dancer like her father and would light up the room. You could see her performing on a stage with the eight of you waiting with flowers to throw on stage. Maybe she wouldn’t win the first prize at her first show but they would still take her out for pizza and celebrate. Her skills would improve and the day she wins the trophy she would be lifted onto Seokjin’s shoulders. 

Not noticing you had started crying until Namjoon pulled you into a hug.  “Hey what’s got you so upset.”

“No, I am not upset, I was told that as my hormones go back to normal, I might cry and be more tired and moody and upset and I just,” Sniffing Jungkook handed over some tissues and hugging your back. The newer of the group Taehyung and Jungkook had just fit perfectly into the group, it was like they were always meant to be.

“Hey love,” Hoseok said, coming over to kneel at your feet holding your knees softly. "Tell me what made you so upset."

“I was thinking about her first Christmas and her first birthday and how you would all be here and she would be loved and…” Taking a sniff and pushing the tears from your eyes you looked up at them seriously. “You can never leave now, we are going to be one big family. I hope you know you are now each my daughter's uncles and therefore responsible to attend events. If you didn’t want to be a part of the family, I am sorry you are now my family.”

More tears shook your form. “You're the only family I have, I wasn’t exactly disowned more than I left when my mother told me not to have my sweet daughter. My precious baby deserves a big happy family and so I am sorry you are stuck with me. 

“And don’t even think you are getting out of it.” You pointed at Taehyung and Jungkook, “You are my family now. Seonhee needs lots of uncles to protect her.”

“We aren’t leaving,” Seokjin grinned, taking a turn holding the wiggling bundle, smiling for a picture, and looking at her. “She will be a heartbreaker.”

~

The first couple of weeks were a learning curve filled with broken sleep, reheated meals courtesy of Seokjin, and constant fatigue looming over your head. Jimin appeared one-afternoon Taehyung, Namjoon and Yoongi apprehended your daughter. Settling her into a baby carrier strapped to Namjoon’s chest. The thick bodyguard looked a little silly with a tiny child nestled against his pecs.

Seonhee was wearing a new outfit from her uncle Jimin. It was a sweet-footed onesie with bear ears warm enough for a day out in the park. Kicked out of the house by Jimin who stressed how much you needed a break. Hoseok was at work while you were still on leave which meant you took the larger portion of the home and baby duties.

Mostly because you were at home all day, but also not wanting to interfere with his sleep schedule seeing as he was going to an actual job that needed proper attention. There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation from Jimin as he dragged you into the bathroom and started the bath filling it with a generous amount of bubble bath. It was the sleepy-time product you had chosen for your baby, emitting a soft lavender scent.

“You relax and I will wash your hair.” He smiled and he massaged your scalp to help relieve any tension, after washing out all your hair products he took your skincare products letting you lay in the bubbles as he pampered you. “You are such a good mum, you are doing amazing.”

“I hope so,” you yawned.

You stepped out of the tub, quickly wrapping yourself into the fluffy robe you hadn’t used in a while. Then sat down on your bed whilst Jimin dried and styled your hair. The others had returned, poking their heads into the room and smiling at your new refreshed look. You quickly fed your daughter while Jimin braided your hair securely.

“You rest okay, we will watch her until Hoseok comes home. Don’t worry we will come to you if we are unsure about anything and for food times.” Yoongi said playing some soft tranquil music on the small speaker by your bed. 

It seemed pointless. Laying there believing it impossible to fall asleep. As you walked past the clock reading half-past one, your stomach rumbled in a gentle protest. Before you could even think of the food you wanted to get dressed, pulling on a white crop top and a baggy overall dress. Something easy to breastfeed in. It was definitely time as your breasts were heavier with milk.

Walking out you poured yourself a glass of juice and scooped up your fussing daughter, stomach growling again. Yoongi stood up marching into the kitchen, rapidly chopping ingredients. Soon the house was filled with a savory aroma and the glorious sound of oil sizzling. 

~

Hoseok was having his first afternoon with Seonhee. You were going for a checkup. Jungkook was free and agreed to accompany you to your appointment, he almost paled when he saw the equipment on the table for your checkup. It made for a good laugh and endless teasing during your small coffee date afterward.

Jungkook’s phone buzzed and he grinned texting back quickly. “Ooh, what or who is making you smile so big?”

“Uh, I just got a funny text from Namjoon. Apparently, Hoseok asked for company so Namjoon and Yoongi stopped by the house after their errands.” He laughed, nose scrunching showing off his front teeth. “And well, your daughter may have accidentally had a poo explosion. So far from the pictures I have seen, Yoongi and Hoseok are covered in it. And while trying to help Namjoon dropped a whole bottle of baby powder and they are vacuuming the carpet.”

“Jimin and Taehyung agreed to pick up some more and I have been asked to keep you busy,” Your smile growing the more you heard, of course, they would make a mess on your first day out. Expecting something chaotic to happen but never something as funny as this. 

“I am just glad it is something like this and not that someone is sick or hurt,” You smiled while eating a strawberry cheesecake and sipping coffee. Not making any move of leaving early and relieving them of their duty. It was a right of passage and showed just how much you trusted them. Hearing that something happened and not jumping to take over.

“They said not to tell you, but how could I not?” Jungkook turned his phone showing you some photos worthy of scrapbooking, the kind you would take out for Seonhee’s twenty-first and a story she would get sick of hearing at every family gathering. “Look at them.”

“Well while they are busy, how about we go grocery shopping? I think perhaps we can make something delicious for dinner,” Standing and collecting your jacket from your chair, and leading the way. Jungkook followed listening to your concerns about your weight and figure, he assured you how good you were looking and even offered to personally train you at 21, the gym.

~

Seonhee was growing steadily. Each milestone leading into the next, she would roll over and had started to crawl. Finding herself putting things she shouldn’t in her mouth. Going back to work was hard for the first few days, leaving Seonhee at the daycare was easy but she became more clingy when she came home. It was her way of coping with the separation that came with daycare and full-time work but eventually, Seonhee got into a routine.

Understanding that her parents were always coming back made everything in the house run a lot smoother. She had a small handful of sounds, mostly eomma, appa. 

Work was a lot more tolerable and dare you to say fun. Jimin had quit his sugar baby gig and joined the company working alongside you. Sure he had broken a few hearts by canceling his service but he was happier. He never explicitly said it but you believed he was trying to be more independent and above everything else make himself more approachable to Taehyung.

Taehyung however left for a while, he had been away working with a few celebrities and luxury brands, photographing concepts, photos, and more. He had been pushing and working harder and harder as the days passed until he traveled away for his latest project. 

It was a little sad that they weren’t together but you could see the longing in Jimin’s eyes whenever he replayed Taehyung’s Instagram story. Dragging him from his desk to have lunch together and distract him from the thoughts spinning around in his head.

~

December marked eleven months since Seonhee was born. Cruising against the couch and cabinets opening things she shouldn’t. You had invested in baby locks and a small playpen. Neither really did much as she knew how to push the whole contraption across carpet and tiles to get into things. 

Mostly she would follow you to the kitchen hoping to get teething biscuits or any other treats her father would sneak her. He was never able to say no and you often found them sneaking snacks together where he would give you his big eyes and pouty lips claiming that she deserved a snack.

Christmas had your house filled to the brim with presents and boys, Seokjin was cooking in the kitchen with Yoongi’s help while Jimin and Jungkook were playing with Seonhee. Hoseok was helping Namjoon into a Santa costume in the backyard. No one had heard from Taehyung. You assumed he was busy with work and that he would be unable to make it.

There was a knock and Jungkook raced to answer it and laughed, “Finally, I thought you were skipping out on the family Christmas.”

“I wouldn’t skip out on the family Christmas, you are my favorite family,” Taehyung said handing over a suitcase to Jungkook and carrying in some bags of wrapped gifts, placing them under the tree. “Look at you, you have gotten so big!”

Namjoon Santa came in and delivered gifts and ran off getting changed only to come back and watch the gift unwrapping. Jungkook went to collect the two eldest from the kitchen, pushing Seokjin before dragging Yoongi out the two stopping in the archway.

“Hey, you are under the mistletoe!” Jimin giggled, proud that his trap had worked, he was hoping that some people would get stuck under it. “You are going to have to kiss.”

“We don’t have to, we are watching Seonhee open her gifts,” Jungkook said only to be grabbed by Yoongi who kissed the younger male and pulled away.

“Satisfied.” Yoongi turned back to the young girl opening her presents, Namjoon got her some picture books and a few educational toys. Seokjin had wrapped a small toy kitchen that was her size. Yoongi brought her to everyone’s surprise a little clam pool and some plastic toys to play with.

Jimin brought her a whole lot of princess dresses, tiaras, and fairy wings. Jungkook got her a cozy coupe red and yellow plastic car that she could push around with her legs. Taehyung handed her the small gift bag and inside was a night light that made the roof look like a galaxy and played soft music.

After Seonhee’s gifts from the boys, Hoseok brought out a box. He was struggling with it but when he opened it out popped a little dog who began licking her cheeks and wagging his tail intensely amongst the large group. “His name is Mickey.” Hoseok grinned watching Taehyung taking pictures and smiling fondly as she giggled.

Other gifts were exchanged, the most notable was Seokjin giving everyone matching sweaters with his face on it, and Taehyung’s gift to Jimin. It was a small bag and inside was the signature Tiffany blue colored box.

“You didn’t have to,” Jimin said softly and Taehyung smiled.

“I told myself I would support you, and I know you didn’t want to be treated like a sugar baby, I just told myself that I wouldn’t allow myself to date until I got you those earrings you really wanted. I wanted to give you something you could be proud of.” Taehyung explained, “And it was so hard to resist you when you kept inviting me over.”

Opening the box Jimin saw the earrings he had once mentioned ages back, the exact earrings Taehyung had handmade for him. “Now you can get rid of the ones I made you, they look horrible compared to these.

“I still love the ones you made and I will keep them forever.”

“I won’t treat you like a sugar baby anymore, I wanted to ask if maybe you wanted to go on a date.”

“Well, these earrings will get you about five dates.” Jimin giggled cheekily

“Five I thought for sure it would be five and a half?”

“Five and a free butt grab?”

“Deal!”

~

The nine of you were walking through the kid's attractions at the theme park seeing some familiar faces, you were having lunch when some music started playing. It was the theme park's dance parade and Hoseok was dragged into the dance by Taeyong.

You were giggling when WinWin dragged you up dancing with you and turned to see Hoseok on one knee, a ring box opened in his hands. You felt your chest about to explode as you tackled him to the ground sobbing in his chest. “Hoseok really, you mean it?”

“Of course, I mean it, I have loved you for years.”

“I love you so much, hell freaking yes put that ring on me, quick quick.” You kissed his face nonstop giggling between your tears. He was finally able to get the ring onto the designated finger standing and pulling you onto your feet. He kissed you passionately, you pulled back burying your face in his chest squealing.

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Full Mast - Part 2

Summary: Your idyllic life as a trophy wife of a rich lord is suddenly disturbed with the arrival of a pirate ship and a kidnapping that goes wrong... leaving you in the care of a band of pirates that seem to treat you better than your husband ever did.

Part 1, 

Fandoms: Henry Cavill, Sand Castle - Movie, Mission Impossible: Fallout, Night Hunter, Hellraiser Hellworld

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader, August Walker x Reader, Walter Marshall x Reader, Mikey (Hellraiser) x Reader.

A/N: This is a CRACK FIC. After a brief discussion with @nuggsmum about the cheap romance novels that you could find in the 80′s and 90′s, i called upon the awful storylines, plot holes, and general cheesyness of those books that walked so fanfiction could run. Read the warnings please.

Storyboard note: The only artwork i could find that was suitable to show a Henry-like character included the woman seen above. I tried to crop as much of her out as possible, the story itself does not describe the female reader at all.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex (F Recieving), Blowjobs, Multiple Blowjobs, Multiple Partners, Implied Age Gap (but never confirmed). Pretty Poly Pirates.

Only the finest organic free range typos for me, allowed to run wild and free.

Full Mast part 2

Standing in the grand cabin you took in your surroundings; the large table that was half covered in maps, the scattered chests and crates, the large four poster bed with messy linens. You wondered if the Captain had many other women between those sheets, or whether he kept his liaisons to his time on shore. At the mere thought of the man that had just taken your innocence you felt your stomach clench and another wave of arousal coat your already soaked petals. 

A quiet knock at the door drew your attention, smiling when you saw Mikey come in pulling a large chest and setting it down in the middle of the room;

“So err… Captain says there should be some stuff in here that will be ok for you, so umm… help yourself Miss…”

“Thank you Mikey”

The young man must be at least 20 yet a blush covered his cheeks as you spoke to him, and with a nervous smile he nodded his head and left the room, half tripping on the rug as he did so before slamming the door shut.

Stripping out of your ruined clothing you saw a pitcher of water and a bowl on the side, using it to wash the Captain's seed from your thighs. Crossing the room in just your silk stockings you opened the chest and pulled out a number of items, gauging what would fit. Looking around you set the items onto the large bed, pulling the covers straight as you made your choice and a thought came to mind.

-

Sy stood outside his cabin, his hand hovering over the door handle. What had he gotten himself into? When he’d heard that his old friend Walter was having issues on the island, he’d set sail immediately and between the two of them and his right hand man Walter, they’d come up with a fool proof plan; kidnap the lord’s young trophy wife, demand not even a ransom - just what they were due, return her unharmed. Instead he ended up with another officer onboard, a woman on his ship that was said to bring bad luck, and the puzzle of what the hell to do with her now it had been made abundantly clear that her husband didn’t want her back. Taking a deep breath he entered the room, expecting the worst…

“Darlin?... Don’t be mad…”

He looked around the room, surprised that at first he wasn’t pelted with whatever wasn’t tied down, but when he couldn’t see you at all he frowned.

“Captain, over here…”

His jaw dropped when he saw you, kneeling on his bed, bare save for your stockings and a smile. Crossing the room he came to stand at the foot of the bed, licking his lips as his gaze traversed your naked body;

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes…I don’t know what i was expecting, but it wasn’t this…”

With a single finger he beconned you towards him, watching as you moved until you were up on your knees, his large hand at the back of your neck and you were kissing again, his glorious tongue exploring your mouth as your hands clung to his shirt. Deliberately falling back on the bed you pulled him with you, his mouth making its way to your breasts where he lavished each one with full mouthed kisses, his tongue laving over the hardened peaks before pressing a trail of kisses down your stomach before settled at the apex of your thighs;

“Gotta be the prettiest little Puss i’ve seen in a long time, bet you’re as sweet as a peach too…”

His tongue swiped a wide path through your folds, your fingers clawing at the sheets as his beard tickled you and he did to you things you’d only read about in the secretive books that were hidden in the depths of your husbands library.

“Oh Captain!” you gasped as his tongue dived into your soaked entrance, his nose rubbing at your sensitive clit and you could feel your stomach tightening with anticipation of the inevitable. Seemingly in no need of air he continued to work the thick muscle inside of you, driving you closer and closer to the pinnacle of pleasure until the point of no return was met and you came with a cry, your legs clamping around his head. 

Finally he pulled himself free of your grasp, climbing up the bed until he was nestled between your thighs, his hardness pressing against your soaked core. Holding himself up on his strong arms he looked down at you beneath him;

“This time i’m gonna take my time and savour it…”

Your hands found their way to his breeches, unbuttoning him and gasping as his hot flesh sprung into your palm, heavy and weeping with need you guided him to your entrance. As he plunged into your depths the world seemed to fade around you; you’d had a taste of heaven and now you wanted more;

“You’re so big…”

“You want me to slow down Darlin?”

“No! It feels… so good…”

With practiced skill he rocked into you, slow but rough thrusts that had his length hitting a spot deep inside you’d had no idea that existed. The man had probably fucked his way around half of the Carribean but for a barely touched blossom as yourself he cherished the way your petals opened around him. 

He continued to fuck you closer and closer to orgasm, feeling your body tighten around him and tremble, he slid a hand between your bodies and rubbed at your sensitive pearl, a grin spreading across his face as you came again with a shout of his rank;

“That’s a good girl, so fucking good… almost there…”

He quickly pulled out and spilled his seed over your stomach, watching as rope after rope of his creamy seed patterned your body, before he fell to your side, his chest heaving. Covering his eyes he let out a shaky breath;

“What the fuck have i gotten myself into…” He peeped out from between his fingers, smiling at you before pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, finally resting his forehead against yours; “Wait there a moment Darlin, i’ll get you cleaned up”

-

You’d dressed in front of your Captain, watching how he admired your choices from where he sat at the long table;

“Wasn’t expecting you to go for breeches…” he commented as you fastened the half length velvet garment, your stockings beneath the knee length trousers. A loose shirt with a wide leather belt fastening it at your waist was the only other garment you put on, standing in front of him and doing a little twirl; “Very nice… and practical”

“I spent ten years of my childhood aboard spice ships, running up ladders and rigging in skirts was a recipe for disaster.”

You crossed the room and sat across his lap;

“So, how is this going to work? You gonna drop me at the next port, leave me to my own devices? Wait until we’re in shark infested waters and throw me overboard?”

“What? Now why would i do that to a pretty little thing like you?”

“Well I know you didn’t end up with the outcome you were hoping for, and now you’re stuck with a ransomee that isn’t due any ransom”

He let out a sigh;

“I wouldn’t do that… it ain’t your fault your husband had the balls of a eunuch. No, i’m sure we can find a use for you, even if it’s just warming my bed… did you have an education?”

“Of sorts. Whenever we docked in Grace Bay i’d see a governess. I can speak spanish, french, and italian” you nodded to the maps spread over the table; “... and i can chart courses and know the currents of the Indies better than anyone that ever sailed on the spice route” 

You gently stroked his beard;

“So Captain, what do you want me to do?”

“All of the above and more…” he stroked your cheek; “I won’t always be able to please you in bed, and from the signs of it you’ve got quite a carnal appetite...So, firstly you can call me Sy when its just us or the officers. When we’re on deck it’s Captain like everyone else. Secondly, if you want it, my officers could do with a bedmate, if you don’t mind sharing?”

Your eyebrows shot up so far you were surprised they didn’t meet your hair;

“Share me with your officers? Who…”

“There’s the Constable - who you’ll know from town - Walter Marshall, and the Armoury Officer - August Walker, and you’ve met Michael, he’s first mate”

“O-Okay”

“You’re alright with that?”

Stroking his beard you leant forwards and kissed him;

“Yes, yes I am. I’ve always wanted a little more adventure in my life, and now here it is”

“Well, you can be the one to decide when you want to go to the others, i’ll leave that move to you… i wont say anything yet”

“Thank you Sy, let's tell them Friday night. You can tell them.”

“Anything for my little Rose” he pressed his face to your neck and inhaled; “Still smell as sweet as that rose garden…”

“You can call me Rose if you like?”

“A new name for a new start?”

“Something like that” you grinned at him.

-

You’d spent four nights in the arms of Sy, some nights just falling asleep in each others arms, other’s you would fuck until dawn. That particular morning you’d taken him in your mouth and he’d taught you how to suck a man, working your tongue and lips over his hot flesh until he’d flooded your mouth with his thick salty seed. He’d held your jaw as he finished;

“Now be a good girl and swallow it”

You gulped down the mouthful before smiling;

“Tasty”

With a laugh he kissed you, before giving your naked ass a cheeky spank as he rolled out of bed;

“You gonna join me on deck?”

You stretched and sighed;

“I’m gonna try and find that earring i dropped when you had me bent over the table last night…”

-

Sy entered his cabin just as the ship’s cook was leaving, nodding to the meal he’d set out;

“Creole Stew tonight Cap’n, bread and ale like always”

“Thanks. Have you seen Rose?”

“No Sir”

Nodding Sy entered his cabin with a weary sigh, it had been a long day and all he really wanted to do was crawl into bed to sleep, grateful it was Friday which meant August took early watch on deck the next day, but he had dinner with the other officers and he hadn’t seen you for the last few hours, last he knew you were still on the hunt for your lost earring. Leaving the door ajar he sat at the table and started to eat, moments later Walter and August joining him.

“Where’s the others?” Walter asked as he sat, helping himself to a large chunk of bread

“Mikey is in the crows nest, he’ll be down shortly” August confirmed; “Haven’t seen Rose for a while though”

“Rose?”

“Sy’s bit of fluff. Decided as its a new start onboard she may as well choose a new name. Apparently its because Sy say’s she smells of Roses”

Walter snorted out a low laugh;

“She’s gonna be smelling of Sy sooner or later”

Sy listened to his two oldest friends banter back and forth, unaware of the surprise he was about to get. Hearing quick footfalls coming along the corridor he looked up to see Mikey at the doorway just as two soft hands pressed to his thighs from beneath the table. He nodded to Mikey to take a seat, before leaning back and peering down to his lap, hiding his surprise when he saw you on your knees beneath the table, hidden from the view of the rest of the party by the many overhanging maps and the low candle light.

Grabbing a chunk of bread he stayed leaning back but parted his thighs wide, wide enough to allow you to unfasten him and pump his hardening length and slip him into your mouth.

“Dig in boys, its gonna be a spicy meal tonight!”

As you worked quickly with your new found skills, sucking on the bulbous head as you fondled his heavy ballsack with your free hand, working quickly and silently as the men above you talked amongst themselves. You could feel Sy’s leg start to tremble, his hand sliding beneath the table to hold your head in place, and as you relaxed your jaw you felt his hot seed flood your mouth.

“WOO!” he exclaimed above you; “This stew is HOT!”

He took a deep breath and slapped his hand on the table with a laugh, before you tucked him carefully back into his breeches and you continued with your plan.

“Sy, we need to consider restocking the armoury” August started; “Scuttling the boats used up a lot of ammunitionnnnnnnnn”

Sy looked up and smirked, August looking at him wide eyed but recovering quickly, clearing his throat;

“Anyway as i was saying… umm... wow, the stew… the spice really hits after a while doesn’t it…”

August scrunched his face and rested his hand on his fist, before grabbing his tankard of ale and taking a large gulp, some of it spilling from the sides of his mouth as he spluttered on the liquid that did only a little to hide the groan. Sy shovelled another mouthful of stew into his mouth to hide his grin as August sat back in his chair, a half glare on his face. 

Walter frowned at both of the older men;

“I have no idea what you two are on about, this stew is fine”

August wiped the slight sheen of sweat from his brow, before finally sitting straight and digging back into his meal;

“Walt, just wait, it takes a while to hit you but when it does… ooooh boy it takes your breath away”

The big bear of a man frowned and shovelled another mouthful in, before his eyes went wide. Swallowing awkwardly he nodded, shifting in his seat;

“Oh… oh yeah… its hitting… wow, its a good burn, ya know…” taking a leaf out of August’s book he grabbed his tankard, taking a gulp as he fidgeted in his seat, both Sy and August doing poor jobs of hiding their smirks, whereas Mikey was sat at the far end of the table without the slightest clue as to what was going on;

“Seriously? You guys must be getting old, this stew ain’t spicy”

Sy raised his tankard to his son and grinned;

“Just wait, it’ll hit ya… anyway, i got an announcement to make”

The three other men looked at Sy, Walter’s gaze faltering now and again as his focal point seemed to change, but he shifted in his seat and leaned his elbow against the armrest of his chair, his hand sliding beneath the table as he muttered about ‘cramp’, when in fact his large hand was holding your head in place as he pushed deeper into your throat. Sy cleared his throat and continued;

“We all know the events at the island did not go to plan. We’re down on funds and supplies, and we’ve increased the crew numbers with those that helped with the land mutiny… we’ve also of course got Rose to consider, she never asked for any of this, but we have come up with a solution of sorts”

“I think i might know what that solution could be” Walter panted out, his face contorting into something that resembled a grimace as he muttered about spiciness and cramps again before with a sigh a smile spread across his face; “Ooooh that’s it… the cramps are going…”

“Anyway” Sy interjected with a wry smile; “Rose can speak numerous languages, can read and chart maps, she’s probably the best educated of everyone on the ship”

Just then Mikey squeaked and jumped in his chair, a thud sounding beneath the table;

“S-s-sorry... my knee hit the table”

Sy nodded with a smile;

“No problem Son, carry on. So Rose will also be here for other duties, but only for the officers at this table tonight” he paused; “And i think you all now know what those duties will be”

August nodded as he eagerly mopped up the last remaining morsels of his stew with a chunk of bread;

“That sounds a fucking brilliant idea Sy. She has the greatest tits...” at that moment Mikey let out a groan and his head thudded against the high back of his chair; “... and i think we all now know she’s got a fucking brilliant mouth on her”

There was little point in denying what had just happened, the very fact it was still going on and Mikey had so little control of his reactions as you were sucking his meaty dick, having just done the same to the other three men in the room from the darkness under the table. In fact the three older men started to chat away candidly as you lavished Mikey’s beautiful cock with your tongue, before taking him in hand to move your mouth down to his tight ballsack to suck on the warm globes. His athletic thighs had parted enough for you to get much closer than you had done with the other three men - all of whom had thighs that could crush a coconut - and it meant that the top of your head could now be seen in his lap by the other men.

“Grab her hair Mikey” August shouted from behind his refilled tankard; “Get deep down in her throat, its fucking amazing, feels like she’ll suck your soul out of your dick”

You felt Mikey's hands curl into your hair, holding your head in place as he started to rock his hips up, filling your mouth and throat. Gripping hard to his thighs you could feel him start to tremble, preparing yourself for the flood of seed and as he came with a cry, looking down at you as you stared back with wide innocent eyes that completely ruined him. 

Finally he released his grip on you, and as you looked down you smiled at what came into view. Seconds later you were climbing out from beneath the table, turning to smile at the rest of the men as you fastened the earring to your lobe;

“Look Sy, i found my earring!”

Walking around the table you took the tankard of ale that August held out for you with a smile, before sitting across Sy’s lap;

“I think they like the idea”

Sy looked at the men around the table, his trusted friends and family and smiled;

“I think they do, my sweet Rose”

He clinked his tankard to yours and you both drank, the joyous laughter filling the room as the night continued.

__________________________________________________________

I do not run a tag list. Instead please visit @angryschnauzerwrites​ and follow that blog and put it onto notifications. You will then get an alert when i post new stories.

Masterlist can be found on AO3, link here.

[comrade-meow]

Why do so many young women hate feminist trailblazers like me?

For anyone uninitiated into the various waves of 21st-century feminism, this will no doubt come as a shock. But in my opinion, what passes right now for modern feminism is doing women more harm than good.

Many young women today are not only pandering to men in their so-called feminism, but seem utterly unconcerned that the hard-won rights achieved by older women in the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s are at risk of being catastrophically eroded.

They are helping everyone but themselves. In many ways they are betraying everything I and my brave colleagues fought for. This is the worst clash across the generations I have witnessed since coming to feminism in 1979, aged 17.

In universities around the UK and beyond, women are being fed a type of faux feminism, often by men reluctant to lose any of their privilege.

Julie Bindel, who came to feminism in 1979, says the rights achieved in the 19060s, 1970s and 1980s are at risk of being catastrophically eroded. Pictured: Julie (left) with Emma Humphreys in 1995 after a campaign to free her from jail for killing her violent partner

These women are being bullied and cajoled into accepting nonsensical concepts that are, at best, naive and, at worst, downright dangerous.

Prostitution, say these young women, is a job just like any other. They also argue that pornography is liberating. And finally, that trans-women should share female-only spaces such as hospital wards and domestic violence refuges.

This last makes me want to weep. It was women of my generation — often called second-wave feminists — who, 50 years ago, built rape crisis centres and refuges with no funding or salaries. To see them being dismantled by the very women who may one day need them is heartbreaking and infuriating.

I don’t think these women — almost all of whom would call themselves feminists — realise they are complicit in eroding our rights, for the simple reason they are no longer taught feminist history in universities. Instead, they are fed a sop of incomprehensible post-modern claptrap by ivory tower academics.

Feminists of my generation are not just ignored, but actively disparaged — or worse.

Since January 2004, when I offered an early opinion on the trans issue for a national newspaper, whenever it becomes public that I am about to speak at an event, always about an aspect of male violence and always as part of my campaigning work, a mob forms with the aim of bullying the organisers into un-inviting me. This is always played out in public and it is always humiliating. Sometimes the organisers capitulate.

I have been invited then uninvited from numerous events at universities following protests from trans activists and supporters of ‘sex work is work’ politics. I have also been invited to, then de-platformed from a number of events exploring free speech.

By contrast, genuine achievements of the past go unrecognised. From the very beginning of my involvement in the women’s liberation movement, we were out on the streets, waving placards, carrying banners and shouting through loudhailers, protesting the laws we wanted to change.

Julie said feminism has been rebranded and repackaged as ‘just be kind and nice to everyone’. Pictured: A 1970 women’s liberation protest

It was our campaigning that led to the introduction of the offence of coercive control; that barred the use of a woman’s previous sexual history in rape trials and ensured anonymity for the victims of sexual assault; and outlawed rape in marriage, which — young feminists are often astonished to discover — was perfectly legal in England and Wales until 1992.

Absurdly, there is no longer any expectation that being a feminist requires you to do anything feminist at all. Instead, and ironically given my experience, feminism has been rebranded and repackaged as ‘just be kind and nice to everyone’. Young women are told it is simply about the ‘choice’ to be who you ‘want to be’.

But if feminism is about choice, what does this mean for the women and girls who don’t have any? The girls forced into marriage, the women pimped out by violent boyfriends, the women on benefits living in temporary accommodation with young children they can’t afford to feed?

For feminism to mean anything, it has to be for all women and not just the privileged few.

Do young women even know about ‘the battles we’ve fought for them

You might ask, as many young women do, what is there still left to fight for? Although my generation of feminists and those that came before chalked up numerous victories, women are far from liberated. Levels of male violence towards women and girls are off the scale, as we have seen with the tragic events of recent weeks.

Conviction rates are so low that rape has been more or less decriminalised. Sexual harassment is endemic in our secondary schools and still a problem for many women in the workplace.

Many young women claim to be feminists, but seem to spend their time dismissing those of us who do the work — as opposed to simply talk the talk — as ‘irrelevant’, ‘bigoted’, and ‘past it’. Do these women even know about the battles we’ve fought and won to afford them some freedom?

Julie said in the current climate of misogyny, many young women are turning on feminists like her rather than pointing the finger at abusive men. Pictured: A rally to celebrate International Women's Day in 2020

In 2018, for example, Ash Sarkar, a media commentator, tweeted about the proposed changes to the Gender Recognition Act, claiming the introduction of ‘self-identification’ would not have any effect on the rights of others. I replied: ‘Unless you are a female in prison, one of the most disenfranchised groups on the planet of course.’ It was a reference to the case of Karen White, the transgender sex offender placed in a female prison who went on to sexually assault two female inmates.

When, in reply, Sarkar claimed ‘bigots’ like me didn’t ‘care about women in prison’, it was too much. Had she known her feminist history, she would have been aware that I am the founder of Justice for Women — a campaign I began in 1990 — and have helped countless abused women get out of prison.

When I came to feminism, there were no laws protecting lesbians from discrimination and abuse; violent men often won custody of children when women left a marriage; and domestic violence was treated by police as a ‘private matter’. All of this changed because of active feminists, as opposed to those who sit on social media virtue-signalling.

In fact, a woman reporting rape five years ago had a much better chance of seeing justice done than she does today. There were 1,917 fewer rapists convicted in the year to December 2020 than in 2016-17, a decline of 64 per cent.

In the current climate of misogyny, many young women are turning on feminists like me rather than pointing the finger at abusive men. Yet there are young feminists doing invaluable work to challenge male violence and bring about women’s liberation.

Julie said social media activism isn't the answer, as the #MeToo movement is no substitute for action. Pictured: A women's liberation protest in 1971

The campaigning group We Can’t Consent to This, which successfully abolished the ‘rough sex’ defence so often used by men who kill women, continues the work I was involved in as a young feminist when we, too, abolished the insidious defence of ‘provocation’, used by a number of men who’d killed their wives because of ‘nagging’ or alleged infidelity.

Of the 1,000-plus women attending the 50th anniversary of the Women’s Liberation Movement conference in London, in February 2020, a minority, but significant number, were in their 20s.

And when I launched my new book last month in London, well over 100 of the 250 books I signed were for women under the age of 30, with some in their teens.

Right now, we need feminism more than ever, but not the kind that puts men first. In the real world prostitution is not a liberating career ‘choice’, and increasingly violent pornography is not ‘sex-positive’.

Neither is social media activism the answer. The #MeToo movement is no substitute for action. Let’s point the finger at men who rape rather than expecting yet more women to lay bare their horrific experiences.

We live in a world in which rape, femicide and everyday abuse and harassment are ever present.

To change it, we need to be united and not divided by generational conflict. Somehow, and urgently, we must find a way to bridge the gap. Fighting among ourselves wastes time — and there is no time to lose.

Feminism for Women: The Real Route to Liberation, by Julie Bindel, (£16.99, Little Brown) is out now.

[the-hopeless-haze]

Somebody Sit in My Chair and Ruin My Sleep (Being Alive Ch 15)

A/N: Idk how I feel about this chapter but here u go I guess lol

Previous Chapter

content warnings: implied smut

WC: 1.9k

Rafael didn’t have any idea what he was walking into on Monday morning, but Jesus Christ, the fact that you let the squad know what happened - down to the very last detail, it seemed - was a horror show. Amanda avoids him in some show of female solidarity, Nick shoots him sympathetic looks, and Sonny - fucking Sonny asks Rafael how he is and won’t stop asking how you were, if he’d heard from you.

But why should he expect mercy from the woman who turned down his proposal?

And maybe he deserved it. Maybe he should’ve tried to read the room instead of just pushing forward. You had been right - that night certainly wasn’t the prime time for a proposal in the slightest. Hindsight is always 20/20, and he keeps remembering moments where you were slipping away inch by inch like sand past his fingertips, and he can’t believe how stupid he was that he chose to swallow it down and chalk it up as nothing instead of sitting down and actually talking to you.

Still, communication is a two way street, and instead of sending him vague signals that he was too obtuse to decipher, you could’ve sat down and talked to him too.

It’s so much easier to assign blame than take it, isn’t it?

Ultimately, though, he just couldn’t believe you weren’t on the same page as him. Didn’t you always say you wanted all these things? Weren’t you happy that Rafael finally felt he was ready, too? Perhaps though, in the midst of all his internal turmoil he truly forgot to assess your feelings on the matter. Yes, you said you wanted children, yes, your parents constantly threw comments his way about settling down with you, and yes, you’d told him on multiple occasions he wasn’t too old to get married if that’s truly what he wanted.

But where was your actual opinion on marrying him in any of this? It was lost in between the need you no doubt felt to constantly comfort Rafael about his current misgivings and past misfortunes and your parents’ well-meaning but busy-bodied comments. It was clouded by Rafael’s own mother’s opinions, and hell, even Sonny’s - everyone was so afraid Rafael was going to lose you that they pressured him into offering you a ring and a promise of forever - but little did anyone know that by doing just that... he had in fact lost you anyway.

His mother was devastated, weeping about how you would’ve made such a lovely bride, how she was already looking at suits for Rafael and venues for the wedding... he couldn’t handle it and left her apartment after ten minutes of her lamentation. He should’ve never told her, he should’ve never been so sure of what was going on in your head, because now he realizes he never had any idea. No one did.

So now, he snaps at Sonny, because Sonny is guilty by way of telling him “oh sure, she’ll say yes” like anyone knew what the fuck you would do when the question was finally asked. Maybe you didn’t even know until he was down on one knee. Still, Rafael can’t help wondering if things would be different if the car accident never happened - deep down, he knows there were signs you were pulling away after Thanksgiving, but it’s so much easier to blame Sonny for it. You wouldn’t have sunk so low in a deep depression if you could’ve worked, if you weren’t immobilized by your injury... but would you have loved Rafael enough anyway?

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Rafael hisses at the younger detective. “You’ve been talking my ear off all morning.”

“Whoa, Barba, wake up on the wrong side of the bed today or what? I was just getting you up to speed on the case—“

“I’ve read the file. You don’t need to.”

“Fine. Liv’s in her office but I suggest cooling the attitude, because she’s not in a good mood either. Noah was sick and kept her up all night.”

“Lovely.”

And then, by some sick twist of fate, you walk through the door, and Rafael’s stomach turns. Never did you look so gorgeous, so beautiful, so fucking untouchable than you did now. It’s the first time in weeks he’s seen you in a blazer and slacks, the first time he’s seen you look like you gave a shit in months. And maybe that’s unfair - you were struggling, per your own admission - but it almost feels like all you had to do was lose the weight of Rafael and all his baggage that came with being in a relationship with him, and you were good as new.

He wonders how many of his exes could tell a similar story to yours, if that were truly the case.

You meet his eyes for a split second and he wants to drop dead. You give him a haughty smirk and head over to Amanda’s desk, turning your back to him.

Why couldn’t you just fucking leave like you’d said you would? It’d be so much easier if you did just go back home but like everything else that came out of your mouth that was merely a half baked promise you had no intention of making good on.

And maybe Rafael should’ve called you this weekend, but he couldn’t swallow his pride and come back to you with his tail between his legs after you rejected the proposal he’d worked all his life to be able to give. You never called him either, but if this was going to go anywhere, someone would have to talk first.

But shouldn’t it have to be you? You’re the one who asked for space. He’s giving it. What the fuck else was he supposed to do?

But now that you’re not living with him, now that you’re not even with him at all, you’re completely unpredictable. Never in his wildest dreams did he think you’d come over to him and Sonny, flash him your best sardonic lipglossed smile, and ask to borrow Sonny for a moment.

Rafael can’t even think straight, he can barely breathe, the rage coming up like bile and tightening his throat. How could you stand there and act like nothing was different now?

“Sure,” he snaps.

“Whoa, no need for the attitude, Rafael,” you say sweetly. “We can all play nice, right?”

Rafael doesn’t say anything, can’t say anything… he just shakes his head and walks to Olivia’s office. How could you compartmentalize like that, he’d love to know. Wasn’t this killing you, too?

The rest of the day proves to go by smoother, thankfully, albeit minor annoyances that come up like a snippy altercation with Olivia due to both of their bad moods and a taxi driver haggling him about the fare. Rafael still cannot wait to come back to his office and savor his fourth cup of coffee today after running around the city all morning, put his feet up and do some paperwork…

But you’re there, in his chair, with your feet up on his desk.

“Get out,” Rafael says before you can utter a word.

“I want to talk,” you say innocently.

“I don’t. Get out. Who the hell let you in here?”

“Carmen, duh. She still thinks we’re together, apparently.”

“Do I have to call security?”

You stare at him blankly. “You’d really call security?”

Rafael rolls his eyes, throws his briefcase on a nearby chair. “What the hell do you want?”

“Where do we go from here?”

“Nowhere. You ended it.”

“Okay, no, I just said I needed space. I didn’t end it--”

“Right. I need to work.”

“Okay. We’ll meet later then,” you nod, standing up.

“I didn’t agree--”

“I’ll be back in a few hours. I got to head back to the precinct in fifteen minutes anyway.”

Rafael hates doing this, showing a moment of vulnerability, but he has to ask, “Are you staying? In New York, I mean.”

“For now,” you say, softening too. “Obviously. I talked to Liv for a long time, talked to my dad.. And… I don’t know if being back home is the best course for me either. I’m just trying to get back to some semblance of normal, you know?”

“Right.”

“I’ll see you,” you say, walking past him and leaving his office.

How many years would it be before he did figure you out?

------

The two of you don’t really talk much at first when you reunite later on that evening. Rafael draws the shades in his office, and it’s all pulling at clothes, at skin, at hair and you’re not proud of it but you also don’t really regret that you let it get that far. You missed him, in an annoyingly cloying way, and what was better than makeup sex when the two of you were still pissed off at each other?

“You need…. You need to go to therapy,” Rafael pants after coming down from his high.

You have to laugh at that. Maybe that was only the 7th most offensive thing someone had said to you after sex. And, annoyingly, he was right, even if his delivery and timing could’ve been light years better.

“Mm. I know,” you tell him, pulling him in to kiss him again, his sweaty chest sticking to your back as you pull off him to lay, or rather squeeze next to him on the couch.

“You need to--”

“Let’s not get into the shit I need to do right now, okay? I know I have things to sort out. So do you.”

“Right. I’m sorry. I’m trying to help, and I’m trying to understand, but--”

“Right now… don’t. Just fuck me like that again.”

Rafael chuckles - damn, it was only two days and you missed his laugh that much? It just tugs on your heartstrings in the worst way, but you suppose it proves how much you love him, how you couldn’t just put this down. You hated being the first to let your guard down, to bring yourself to his office not once but twice… but you couldn’t bear to lose him, either, and you’d hurt him where no one else had. It had to be you who offered a new start.

“I need to eat, mujer. And as tempting as that sounds… we need a change in location anyway.”

You nod in assent. “Fine.”

Neither of you get much sleep that night, as you split a bottle of wine and a pizza and talk, cry, fuck, whatever… but it’s a long sleepless night you wouldn’t have traded for the world. Things are different between you two, naturally, but something has to be shed to grow, and maybe you left some good things behind along with the bad things, but it’s how these things go. You can’t expect a relationship to be standing firm after a rejected proposal. For the moment, you’re just happy the two of you found a way to get back up.

As you curl into Rafael’s arms at four in the morning, you don’t feel at peace - lord knows you still have so many things to worry about - but you do feel better, and if that’s all you can get right now, you had to be okay with that.

Taglist (ask if you wanted to be added!) @stormtrooperofficerbrowneyes​ @thatesqcrush​ @law-nerd105​ @blackeyedangel9805​ @moon-river-drifter​ @the-baby-bookworm​ @dianilaws​ @xecq​ @lv7867​ @teddybluesclues​ @averyhotchner​ @houseofthirst​ @stardust-fray​

[randombtsprincessa]

Content Tag Game!

Tagged by my babies Dia and Maria ( @yoonia​ and @joyfulhopelox​) to answer these content queries and dish some dirt on me whoops!

Here we go!

1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)? 

Well I for one thought that I would never write for Twilight again. I wrote Touch in the Worlds as a practice and just to get the feel of how writing and the posting worked online. I was very sure I wouldn’t visit the fandom again for obvious reasons, but yeah, I have recently gotten another idea for it for another character that many asked for in comments.

2. what fandoms are you currently writing for? 

I am writing for Kpop (BTS) and currently have two works for Harry Potter!

3. how long have you been writing? on this blog? 

I began writing in 4th grade. Silly me also tried to make a club out of it with a few friends but yeah lol, that tanked. I mostly tried to write Horror back then because I was a hardcore Goosebumps fan. Writing kind of took a back seat to my music and dancing before making a vicious comeback. 

I made this blog to follow SuperWhoLock and other shows. Before I refurbished it to accomodate my writings. Then in 2017, I purged it again at the same time as Tumblr underwent it’s own mess of thingy.

4. on which platforms do you post your stories? 

I post on FF.net, Wattpad, Tumblr, Ao3 and Inkitt.

5. what is your favourite genre to write? 

I love smangst with fluff. Of course, like any deprived emotionally person I do do fluff because where would we be in life without it. I love the tropes of E2L, Estranged Lovers coming together, balancing otherwise unbalanced dynamics etc. Also woman empowerment because hell yes.

6. are you a pantser or a planner? 

I’ a firm swinger between the two. Usually for writing projects, like NANO i have a plan but well, when I get an idea hit, I usually just write how I see it in my head (I’m a visual imaginator). Series require more planning than one-shots.  

7. one shot or multi-chapter? 

Depends on the stories I cook up. Many of them might be finished and reach the proper catharsis in one chapter but many others aren’t stories that can be wrapped up in one sitting.

8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion? 

Don’t ask me. I have a problem with word counts. Ask my undergrad professors.

9. what is your longest published story? is it complete? 

I still think my longest is Touch in the Worlds. Its four books and over 200k so. Yep, it’s done and over with.

10. which story did you enjoy working on the most?

I. ADORE writing Autumn Leaves, mostly because my MC is lowkey brilliant. She’s a living embodiment of all the mistakes the HP characters made corrected. For BTS, I loved writing Aberrations. I’m going to have the same fun when I get to the ‘part’ in Achilles Heart. hehehe...otherwise in the future some works are *satan grins*

11. favourite request you’ve have written and why (if any?) 

I wasn’t sure if I was going to be writing a sequel for Bed Bereft. But people have asked and yep it’s coming (plotted already and I will enjoy it)

12. are there reoccurring themes in your stories? 

I’ve been told I write women in relationships well. Honestly if I wanted a break down of what I as a writer have done nicely in my BTS fics it would be a question for people like @jimins-ass-eater, @stealth-liberal and @cuziloveyou7

13. current number of wips? 

Outrageous and increasing. I have a lot of chapters to upload lol.

14. three things you have noticed about your own writing? 

Some fics I have noticed are purely for a particular mindset. I wrote Asylum in my down time and Ambrosia is going to be the same. I tend to aim to be realistic. I am 23 years old, I have seen a few things that deserve to be addressed and I do that in my fics. Oh, and if I am writing for Namjoon, you can expect my philosophical side to jump right out and ramble in that fic. 

15. a quote you like from a published story.

● Series:

There was nothing soothing about people watching.

Or maybe there was and it required some form of inner peace to find the charm in it.

You didn’t have that sort of inner peace; neither did you have the patience for it.

- Belladonna, Chapter 1

● One-shot:

All the stories that showed that Princesses would be rescued fell short at one crucial juncture.

No one told the story about the cursed princess who was ugly, who was a monster, who wasn’t the pale skinned beauty in a glass case or silk bed.

No, nobody came to save the ugly princess and over time you learned to see yourself just that.

This man – this Jimin, would be no exception.

“After all, what’s to love?” You muttered.

You vowed not to weep. Not for a man, not for the humanity that judged who was worthy of love.

- Blackthorn Creek

16. a quote from an unpublished story.

Jimin didn’t reply, carefully placing a donut on a small, pristine white plate. “I don’t think there’s anyone who just was born wrong. Everyone has reasons, everyone has stories. Things that happen to people to make them the way they are at present. It’s harsh to judge a person’s future for what the past did to them in the present.”

His eyes flickered up to glance out the window. At the edge of the park, right along the lines separating the background of the city from the forefront stood an old Honda. On it was perched a single girl.

“Like her.”

- Brownie Points

17. space for you to say something to your readers. 

I want to thank each and every single one of them. On tumblr and out of it. I know I miss out on a lot of interaction but I want you all to know that you always have an ear and shoulder available on my blog. I want you to know that these fics I write are for more than just your enjoyment. It’s for them to maybe find a part of them resonating inside of you and if I achieve that then that would be my biggest achievement. I love you all and your encouragement is literally the reason I and many other content creators are still here.

Tagging: @avveh @serooks @softyoongiionly @hobidreams @jungkxook @joonscypher @hobiwonder @bangtanhome @joheunsaram @kookdiaries @ressjeon @kithtaehyung-main @vyduan @rosietae @kookingtae and anyone else who wants to do this!

[robron1609]

Robron Week 2021 - Day 1

Meet-Ugly + "That's not an explanation."

New Beginnings

(ao3 link)

Aaron’s eyelids fluttered like a candle in the wind, the hustle and bustle of the city pecking away at his head with a sledgehammer. The bitter taste of ale, the fruity taste of wine and all the combined spices of every spirit known to man were stagnant on his tongue as he peeled his damp limbs off the leather sofa beneath him.

He let out a dry cough and it felt like someone had shot him in the brain during his sleep. But other than that, he was as right as rain.

It took him longer than he would care to admit to remember that he did, in fact, not own a single item of furniture that had even an inch of leather on it, and he lived in the in the middle of bloody nowhere where the only thing (apart from his mother) that made him shake a leg in the morning was the bellows of Moira’s cows when their troughs were being topped up.

So, there’s that.

His brain caught up and he bolted upright, his whole face moulding into a sculpture of what, where, when, how and why. He took in his brand-spanking-new surroundings; a lavish penthouse overlooking London’s skyline, decked out from head to toe in a fusion of ultra modern and industrial pieces. Not really his style, to put it nicely. It looked like something straight off the front page of one of those overpriced interior design magazines on the top shelf of David’s shop that no one ever bought.

Aaron could only hope that whoever lived here was some bloke he’d pulled in the haze of last night, if it wasn’t then… what the actual fuck was he doing here?

When the room had stopped spinning on all its axis and Aaron was eighty-nine percent sure that he would be able to hold his vomit in if necessary, he braved the hallways in search of other life. He detoured to stand in front of a back-lit mirror that had beckoned him over, and he was introduced to his reflection. It gawked right back at him, dressed in nothing but a pair of neon yellow boxers and a Scottish flag that he was wearing as a cape. The flag was fastened loosely around his neck with a frayed shoelace and there was a big tear down the centre of it.

Jesus fucking shit. Absurd didn’t even begin to cover it.

Sweat dripped down his top lip when he heard a deep voice through the wall. He teetered around the corner until he was close enough to pick up most of the words.

“I won’t be in today.” There was a pause. “Does it fucking matter?” Nice manners, then. “Look, unless you want me hurling all over the new contact, I suggest you grow a pair and attend the meeting without me.”

Aaron gripped the glossed door frame, his clammy hands squeaking on the wood as he snuck a look at who the voice was coming from. The man was stunning. He was all sun-kissed skin, choppy blond hair, and a gorgeous mouth that dipped dramatically in the corner.

“Shit!” With a jolt, the blond dropped his phone and it landed on his face with a mocking smack.

“Sorry-”

“Why are you in my house?!”

“I’m Aaron.” No shit, Aaron.

“That’s not an explanation!”

“Sorry.”

Aaron cringed. All of a sudden he was big on apologies, apparently. Blondie was now sitting up, scratching the fluff on the nape of his neck as he shuffled out of bed and adjusted his duvet accordingly whenever it slipped below his waistline. He just glared at Aaron, waiting to hear something that made sense.

“I was kinda hoping you could tell me,” Aaron said, using all of his self-control to stop his eyes from drifting downwards. “My head’s mashed. I remember being on the train with Adam and Vic, and then-”

“Vic as in my sister Vic?”

Aaron just stood there, catching flies. “I- I dunno, I think so. Sugden?”

“Uh-huh.”

Ohhhh, Robert Sugden. Aaron finally put a name to the face and felt like giving himself a pat on the back.

…..

“Here you go. Extra strong.”

"Ta."

Aaron warmly accepted the cup of coffee, the steam flying off it and dissolving in his pores. He used the piping hot liquid to swamp down some paracetamol before tightening the strap on the dressing gown that Robert had lent him a little earlier with a side-eye and a grumbled, “Make sure you give it back.”

With the current cycle rumbling the machine into the ground, Aaron glanced at the digital timer displayed on the appliance. Just forty-eight minutes until he could grab his screwed up clothes, slap them on, and leg it to the underground with his tail between his legs. The longest forty-eight minutes of his life, no doubt.

Hoping to make a crack in the ice, Robert led Aaron to the scene of last night’s crime. Through the sliding doors, across the patio and up the spiral stairs, secluded in the corner and illuminated by the steady flicker of the firepit. Robert was surprised that it hadn’t burnt out in the early morning under the April showers.

The rooftop terrace was what sold this place for Robert. It was his haven, complete with everything that made his superficial heart weep. This morning, however, it looked how he felt.

He absorbed the aftershocks of his party (shards of glass littering the outdoor table, remains of finger foods welded to the deck, and a pair of nude stilettos abandoned on the bar) and sagged. Turning thirty was dismal enough without having to clean up after his colleagues. Or, as he liked to call them, a bunch of wound up, hoity-toity pen pushers who didn’t even know his middle name—just a sniff of free booze and they were squeezing into a Ralph Laurent polo that still had the label on, and patting him on back with a bout of boisterous laughter as if they were best mates.

Wow, he was in dire need of some proper friends.

Aaron propped himself up on the bar. “Bet you don’t get tired of this,” he said, looking out at the sparkling city.

“It’s a great hangover cure,” Robert said, nursing his Americano and watching the ripples dance over the surface as he lightly blew it. “It can be lonely, though,” he admitted, unsure as to why. This handsome and hungover stranger was just waiting for his ticket out of here, he didn’t want or need to become Robert’s agony uncle to fill the time, that was for sure.

“Why’s that?”

Oh. Perhaps Aaron, for one reason or another, cared. Or he’s got nowhere else he needs to be and Robert’s left him with no choice but to sit and listen because it's the polite thing to do. Aaron looked at Robert all doe-eyed and Robert wanted to stay here until he’d told Aaron every single intricate detail of his life up until this point. But that seemed a little crass.

“Don’t know, really. I just… don’t like to be alone with my thoughts, I suppose. And being up here, well, it’s a whole lot of that.”

“I know what you mean,” Aaron said. “How long have you lived here?”

"Nearly two years on the whole." Robert calculated, Aaron giving him an amicable nod in response. Robert licked the coffee froth off his lips, clearing his throat. "I've lived in London a while, though. Since I left the village, pretty much."

"And you never thought about going back?"

"I couldn't." That would mean looking back. And after the trail of destruction he'd left in his wake, that was never going to happen. They were better off without him. Or at least his Dad and Andy were. Vic and Dianne never stopped reaching out, however, offering their support through texts and unanswered voicemails.

Aaron changed the topic, sensing that Robert's internal trip down memory lane wasn't a smooth ride. "You heard anything from Vic and Adam?"

"They were both flat out in the spare room last time I checked," Robert answered. He'd been less than pleased to find them entwined together on top of the duvet, dead to the world as Adam slobbered away on the satin pillowcase like an excited dog, and Vic let out a mishmash of unconscious sounds from sniffles to whistles, her makeup crusty and her outfit dishevelled by a night's sleep in it.

"Vic had a whole itinerary planned. Some museum, Leicester Square, and then this ridiculous hipster coffee shop near the station," Aaron said with a dreary eye roll. "Even though our train leaves just after two."

"She's just excited. She doesn't come here often."

"'Suppose not."

"Anyway, I recommended that coffee shop so you better not miss it," Robert said. Aaron snorted because of course he did. "Come on."

Robert rose, perking up a bit as he stretched his arms until they clicked with satisfaction. Aaron followed in his footsteps, literally, but they stopped in their tracks, coming face to face with a rumbled Victoria.

She looked dead and alive all at the same time as she swung her phone about. "There they are, the newly engaged couple."

Robert choked on air and Aaron gave him a splash of side-eye before snatching Vic’s phone. "What are you on about?" And Aaron had to check that the digital date displayed in the top left corner of the screen wasn't April the 1st. Nope, it was indeed the 23rd. And under that was a Facebook post on his profile; a blurry, backlit photo of him and Robert flashing the camera with two rings that didn’t even match, accompanied by a slurred caption.

yayy ENGAAAAAGED! whoop whoop!! hears to many many many many many year <3

Aaron groaned, throwing his head back in sheer embarrassment when Vic grabbed a hold of his and Robert’s left hands. Sure enough, the rings were still there. “Oh my God,” she cackled, her voice like a siren in the middle of the night. “This is brilliant. A few more of those cocktails and you’d be halfway to vegas, ey?”

Robert massaged his temples, kneading roughly at his dry skin. “Whatever’s in them is lethal,” he grumbled, peering over Aaron’s shoulder as he watched him scroll through the comments and squeeze his eyes shut in disbelief at each one.

“It’s your bar, mate. You should know what it’s serving,” Aaron said. He had a point. “Let’s just pray we left it at cheap rings.”

(Aaron couldn’t even begin to fathom at what point during the party he and Robert had fled the penthouse and ended up at a jewellers of all places. Who’d thought a proposal was the perfect end to a not-so-perfect night? Who’d taken that photo? And who in their right mind was selling giant fabric flags in the early hours of the morning? It would be a miracle if he becomes sober enough to answer at least one of those questions.)

Robert pouted. “That’s a shame. I’ll cancel the tickets to Vegas, then,” he teased.

“I dunno, I could do with a holiday just to get over the shame.” Robert grinned at the younger man’s flirty tone.

“Cheers,” Robert scoffed. Aaron handed the phone back to Vic who watched the pair with a knowing glint in her eye, her head bouncing back and forth between them.

“Only joking,” Aaron said. “Could be worse.”

Vic pocketed her mobile with a yawn and tightened her ponytail. “Right, I’m gonna drag my lump of a boyfriend out of bed and start gathering our stuff. I’ll leave you two to plan the wedding of the century, shall I?”

Vic left the rooftop, her flats scuffing all the way down the metal staircase. Robert gulped down the remains of his coffee and turned to Aaron with a smirk.

“So, fiancé,”–Aaron shot Robert a fiery glare which, if Robert didn’t know any better, would leave a bruise on his ego–“I know a great place where we can get some brunch. Why don’t we ditch Vic and Adam and I’ll drop you off at King’s Cross after.”

Aaron pulled a face. “ Brunch? I’m not paying £8.99 for a plain scone.”

“My treat.” Robert offered, hoping that would seal the deal.

“Like a date?”

“If you want it to be.” Aaron paused for a beat, not that there was ever much to contemplate.

“Fine.” Robert didn’t miss the bashful smile taking over Aaron’s face. Robert bit the inside of his cheek when Aaron began to descend the stairs. He crammed his hands in his pockets, his heart going into overdrive as he kicked his feet into gear.

[scribbling-stiks]

Retrievers - XIX - Tears

They struggle toward the mouth of the cave. They eventually get to the riverbed that is now filled with clear water. Russia stumbles out of the water and kneels in the dirt. Finland helps him up and drags him to the car. The kids pile into the back seats, and they climb on top of each other. Too many kids for the number of seats, but Russia knew that America wouldn't say anything.

America sits in the front passenger seat and Finland takes the driver's seat. Finland starts slowly driving back down the overgrown path. Russia listens to the loud clangs from rocks hitting the undercarriage.

"Daddy?" Georgia calls.

"Yes?"

"Can I sit with you?"

"Maybe when we get to the hotel, okay baby?" America asks, his voice tight.

"Okay."

America goes quiet. Texas climbs up over the back of the seat and sits down next to Russia. Texas looks a little nervous before he takes a deep breath and leans over, clinging to Russia's arm.

"I'm sorry," Texas says, "I'm sorry. I wasn't fast enough."

"This wasn't your fault," Russia soothes.

"But I-"

"Texas," Russia cuts in, "look at me."

Texas looks up, snot and tears running down his face. His shoulders shake and he cries, biting back sobs.

"Peaches coulda died, and it would've been because of me."

"Is wasn't you," Russia replies calmly, "it was never your fault."

"But I wasn't fast enough."

"That's not what happened," Russia soothes, "it was an accident. That's all. And it's okay. I got her."

Texas whines.

"I shoulda been able to help..."

"That's not your responsibility."

Texas looks up at him with tears and Russia couldn't help himself. He pulls the teen into a bear hug, holding him tightly and cupping a hand over the back of his head.

"Shhhhh. It's okay. Everything is okay. Everything is okay," Russia mutters.

Texas sobs, shaking against him, clutching onto Russia with every ounce of his strength. Russia ignores the pressure around his chest.

"We are okay," Russia comforted, "everything is okay. We're back."

Texas weeps and clings on. Russia rubs his back and mutters soft little nothings to comfort him. Eventually, Texas lets go and leans against the window, staring quietly at the passing landscaping and sniffling. New Mexico hops over into the middle seat and looks between them. Then, she leans over and lays her head on Russia's shoulder.

Russia's heart melts.

'These kids are very sweet.'

Then his face drops.

'I will not let anything hurt them,' he vows to himself.

They finally get to the hotel, and they don't bother setting up the cots. They change into dry clothes and the kids pile onto one of the beds. They quietly sit together in a huge pile, and New York sits just outside the group. New York bounces his leg, looking nervous but unwilling to go far.

America sits in the edge of the second bed and offers New York a hand, which New York takes.

"Are you gonna be okay kiddo?" America asks.

"Yeah," New York says shakily, "I just.. need a minute."

"Do you want a hug?"

"No."

America smiles softly and nods. But even still, Russia could see right past the forces happiness in the smile. Then suddenly, Georgia pulls Russia into the pile of teens. She laughs. Russia falls back, giving in easily.

"I don't think I could ever thank you enough," Georgia says.

"What happened anyway?" Pennsylvania asks.

"Well, I almost drowned," Georgia says, "but Russia grabbed me and pulled me out of the water. I don't even know how he did it. The water was so strong and it was swirling around us. I was sure we was finna die."

"But the current sped up," New Jersey comments, "how did he manage to keep you guys out of it?"

"She was caught in an opening that worked like a drain," Russia says, "had she fallen any further, it would have been bad. I pulled us up into a ledge."

Georgia describes the swirling whirlpool and Russia looks up. Finland seemed to by trying to calm herself down with a string project. Russia also sees America shaking a little and biting his knuckle.

"America? Are you okay?" Russia asks.

"Yeah! I'm fine!" America squeaks.

Russia catches the states looking up sadly.

America stares back off at the ceiling, his eye unfocused. New York looks away sadly and lets go. America shakes his head and offers a comforting smile. New York takes a seat next to Pennsylvania and they begin playing a game on their hands. Georgia sits back with Texas and New Mexico clinging to her.

"I'm ordering pizza," New Jersey says, picking up the hotel phone, "does anyone have any preferences?"

"Cheese. Duh."

"None of that vegan crap Cali likes."

The rest of the night is slow-moving, but overall uneventful. Finland takes a few measurements of New Mexico, waving off the questions and knitting away. Russia eventually manages to get up, and he sits next to America. His legs and arms ache, and his head feels dizzy. America leans against him for a moment before getting up and pulling Georgia into a tight hug, picking her up off the bed. Georgia laughs but doesn't fight him on it.

And after they eat, the states move to sit around America. America had taken to combing New Mexico's hair and putting it into braids. But Russia notes that he still seems jumpy and nervous.

New York takes a seat next to Russia and leans against him, and Russia can feel his hat brushing against him. The room smells like pizza and relief.

"I'm tired," New York complains.

"Well, that's a first," New Jersey jokes.

"Shut up, asshole."

New Jersey shrugs with a smile.

"I think everyone should probably get some sleep," America asserts, "all the kids can get in the other bed."

"What?!"

"Awww...."

"Come on!"

"Nope, no arguments," America says, crossing his arms, "if we aren't using the cots, all of you are going to share."

Russia yawns. Finland locks the hotel door and sits back in her chair, opening the curtain.

"What are you doing?" Russia asks.

"I'm going to calm myself down," Finland replies, "but I need some light, so the moon will have to work."

Russia shrugs and lies down. America lies down in front of him and pulls him into a deep kiss. Russia reciprocates but doesn't let it go any farther. America hides his face in Russia's chest, and Russia kisses his hair. Russia drifts off soon after.

He wakes up a few hours later to a strange noise. At first, he panics. He looks around and finds that everyone had fallen asleep where they were, and Finland has closed the curtains she had worked under. Then, he looks down and finds a sight that causes his heart to stop. America is curled up, his eyes wide and hand over his mouth, trying to muffle his crying. Russia watches stunned as America shrinks away, his whole body shaking. He had kicked off the blankets and lay there, shivering.

"Meri?" Russia asks.

America's eyes swivel up, and he chokes. Russia feels his own eyes burn. Then, America gets up and Russia watches as he shakily walks into the bathroom. America closes the door, and Russia watches, waiting. But after a while, concern grows, and he gets up. He knocks on the door, only for it to swing open behind his hand.

It's dark save for the small light on the outlet, and Russia finds America curled up on the floor, hyperventilating and silently crying. Russia walks in carefully and closes the door. He steps forward and sits down on the cold tile.

"Meri?" Russia asks tentatively.

"Russ, did you know you almost died?" America asks, his voice cracking and his hands shaking uncontrollably.

"I-"

"I almost lost my kid," America stammers, and a sob escapes him, "and you both almost drowned in a place where we would never be able to find you."

"Meri?" Russia asks, feeling his chest get tight.

"And I couldn't do anything. I'm so fucking useless," America cries.

"You're still hurt."

"And you both almost died!"

America quiets and weeps. His hands hang out in front of him. Russia reaches forward and pulls him into a gentle hug. America stiffens for a moment before returning the gesture. America tucks his head into Russia's shoulder, bawling.

Everything starts hitting Russia, and the risk he'd taken is like a brick to the chest.

'We could have died,' his mind numbly repeats, 'we should've died.'

His heart squeezes in his chest and a lump appears in his throat. He begins crying quietly, and America just hugs him tighter.

'We have to get through this. We have kids to protect.'

They sit for what feels like hours, just crying together. Russia wipes the tears off his face and notices that America had gone limp in his arms.

'He cried himself to sleep.'

His heart squeezes. Russia hoists America up, ignoring his own exhaustion, and he stumbles back to the bed. He practically dumps America into it and crawls next to him. He wraps his arms around his partner and nuzzles his hair, finding that it smells nice. His whole body is sore, and his heart aches.

'I hope you feel better in the morning,' Russia thinks, looking down at America and the shining tear tracks on his face.

~

Next

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Table of Contents

[pluto-writes]

Ranpo Edogawa x Reader| Fireworks

A/N: Me? Writing something self indulgent? It’s more likely than you think. I can hear fireworks every second and I hate it. They’re too loud (>﹏<) Oh! And thank you guys for 85 followers!

Words: 947

Tonight was the last day of the summer festival. You hadn’t been able to get a chance to go earlier since yours and Ranpo’s schedules didn’t give you an opportunity till now.

Dressed in your (f/c) yukata you waited for Ranpo at your meeting spot. You made sure to stand by the entrance so that he wouldn’t be able to miss you.

“Ah! (Y/n)! There you are!” His cheerful voice broke through the crowd. You were able to spot him immediately. He waved over to you and you took notice of the yukata he was wearing. He wore a brown yukata tied together with a green obi. You had to admit the colors complimented him nicely.

“Good to see you too, Ranpo,” you smiled as you walked over to him, “You look good in that yukata.”

“Of course I do!” He beamed at the compliment. He looked up and down at you, “You look nice too.” His eyes glanced over to the many food stands that lined up the street. “C’mon, (Y/n),” He grabbed your wrist, “Let’s go!”

You walked hand in hand with Ranpo and checked out the different types of stands they had. And even played a few of the games together.

You were in awe of the displays. Lights hung from above and coated everything with a soft yellow glow. It was truly beautiful.

Before you knew it, it was about time for the fireworks to start. You never seen fireworks from up close before, so you were excited to be able to experience that with Ranpo.

“Follow me! I found a good spot for us to watch the fireworks!” Ranpo pulled you out from your thoughts, he looked excited for them too. You eagerly followed after him.

Fireworks were considered a symbol of romance, and you couldn’t wait to be under them with Ranpo. In all the shows you’ve seen, when the fireworks go off the two characters share a kiss and live happily ever after. And you wanted to be able to have that with Ranpo.

You’ve kissed Ranpo before, but never under the fireworks. The atmosphere felt different somehow. More romantic even.

“(Y/n)! Look! The first firework is about to go off.” The spot he took you to was a bit crowded, looking around there seemed to be couples with the same intentions as you in mind.

Just as you were about to respond you were cut off by a high pitch whistling sound. Looking up you could see a stream of light shoot up straight into the sky. Once it reached its peak height it went off with a loud boom.

Startled, you covered your ears. You knew that fireworks were loud, but you never anticipated they’d be this loud.

Then after the first one, dozens followed after in the same manner. An ear piecing whistle that ended with an ear shattering explosion. The noise was unbearable. It became too much for you.

You crouched down onto the ground, eyes squeezed tight with your hands over your ears. Ranpo looked over to you since he noticed that you were oddly quiet despite the sight that rendered the crowd to a fit of “ooo!” and “ahh.”

He saw the state you were in and knew that you were uncomfortable in this current situation. He wanted to catch your attention before trying to do anything else to you in fear of setting you off.

“(Y/n), just focus on my voice please.” He pleaded, “Keep your eyes on me. Just me, okay? I’ll get you out of here.”

You slowly opened one eye to peek at him, trying your best to keep all your attention on him you opened your eyes fully. Once he knew he got through to you, he reached his hand out to you and pulled you up to your feet.

“Don’t pay attention to anything else but my voice, okay? I’ll take us somewhere more quiet.” You listed to him and absorbed everything he said to you. All you could hear was his voice, the fireworks were reduced to nothing but background noise.

Listening to his voice was calming as he rambled on about nothing. Suddenly, he stopped walking. He turned to you and said, “I think this is good enough. You can’t hear it from here.”

True to his word, the fireworks were no longer to be heard. You looked at Ranpo and closed the distance between the two of you, wrapping your arms around him, you buried your head into his body.

“I’m.. I’m so sorry, Ranpo,” You weeped, “I don’t ... I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I ruined our date. I’m sorry-”

“You don’t have to apologize,” He effectively cut you off, preventing you from apologizing any further. “You didn’t ruin anything. We still had a fun time at the festival, didn’t we?”

“Y-yeah but... tonight was the last night... and I made us miss the fireworks...”

“So what if we missed the fireworks! I have the most breathtaking sight in front of me!” He boasted, pulling away from the hug and gave you a mirthful grin.

His comment made your heart warm, but you still thought you ruined the experience. You never got to share that kiss under the fireworks with Ranpo afterall...

Just as you were wallowing in your thoughts, Ranpo pulled you in for a kiss. His lips locked in with yours, it was gentle and sweet. Reassuring even. You could even taste a bit of the cotton candy he had earlier.

Pulling away, he wore a huge knowing smile, “Do you feel better now?”

“I do... thank you very much, Ranpo. For everything. I mean it.”

[goldeneyedgirl]

JaliceWeek2020 Bonus Day

JaliceWeek2020 Bonus Day: Quarantine

Also Untitled We’ll Worry About That Later

Notes: Under 3k, woohoo! This barely fits the prompt, but I’ve decided to go rogue. The real question now is... can I get another one posted today?

--

The phone rings at 11:27 p.m. on a Tuesday night.

It’s not Carlisle’s night on call, but everyone is being a bit more flexible at the moment. He expects a summons, that the hospital is short-handed again. It’s to be expected once Forks got its own outbreak - of the fifteen people hospitalised, eight of them were doctors or nurses.

Edward hits a sour note as he overhears the the phone call, trying to temper his reaction so not to signal that anything is wrong.

Carlisle is utterly professional during the call, but when he hangs up, he is left with the hideous duty of walking upstairs and telling his youngest - and oldest - son that one Mary-Alice Brandon has just been placed on a respirator.

—

They’ve put the infected in the old wing of Forks Hospital, where they can be properly quarantined. There’s no blood in the wing yet, and so Carlisle sees no risk allowing Jasper in to see Alice through the window; it’s the closest anyone can get to these patients.

And Jasper was not doing well. Telling him had been so much worse than Carlisle had ever envisaged. Esme was still repairing the damage to his study, and Jasper had gotten himself worked up, his terror at a point where he was infecting the rest of the family - Edward was almost permanently camped out at Bella’s, unable to tolerate another second of that bone-deep fear that Jasper pushing out.

But the second they arrive, and Jasper gets to see her, Carlisle fears that he just made things much, much worse.

Alice is tiny in the hospital bed, pale as the sheets tucked around her. The respirator is strapped to her face, obscuring most of her features. Tubes and wires run out of both her arms, the machines surrounding her beeping routinely. She’s completely unconscious, the dark circles under her eyes the only spot of colour on her entire face.

The whole scene is devastating, and Carlisle is quite sure that he’s watching his son’s heart break into a million pieces as he stares at his human mate, slowly dying alone, not a single person allowed to hold her hand.

Carlisle is not cruel, and hasn’t told Jasper the full details of Alice’s prognosis, but Jasper is no fool. Alice was already so fragile, with existing health issues, and she’s just so very, very sick.

“Jasper…” Carlisle begins in a low voice, reaching out to put his hand on his shoulder, but Jasper jerks away, storming out of the hospital in such a rage that Carlisle’s just relieved the door stays on its hinges as his son disappears into the night.

—

He is furious. He is rage. He has never, ever been so angry in his entire life. He wants to destroy, to fucking decimate something because it never, ever should have been her.

He thinks of going to the Brandon house, and crushing her selfish father into pulp. To bestow upon Alice’s father, who could not resist his trips to his mistress in Seattle, the slow, lingering death he passed on to his eldest daughter.

But he doesn’t. The man is sick - the whole family is sick, though not nearly bad enough to require hospitalisation, that particular honour had been given solely to Alice - but he tries to comfort himself with the fact that the man is at least suffering.

He steals into Alice’s bedroom, how many times had he climbed into this room and found Alice sitting crosslegged on her bed with her laptop or with her sketchbook, her face lighting up at his appearance. How the fairy lights strung around her bed would be lit, as well as the lamp shaped like a rabbit, and half a dozen novelty lights scattered around the room. It made the room look like magic, like home.

But now, it is cold and still. The bed is unmade, her quilt crumpled on the floor. The lights are off, the hamper is full, and he wants to destroy it all.

He lets himself have one moment, one little weakness, as he picks up the sweater tossed over the back of her desk chair and buries his face in it. It still smells like her, before she got sick - like raspberries and rainwater, her floral shampoo and rose perfume, of a million different little things that made up her human life. It is a comfort, yes, but it is also hurts in a sharp, new way that makes him want to weep. She’s not here, she’s not coming back, not going to walk in and tease him for being ‘weird’, as she wraps her arms around his waist and presses against him.

And he puts the sweater back, swallowing hard against the rising grief. He’s here for a reason. And so he goes hunting.

For her sketchbooks, and her diary, and her little worn out plush rabbit that always sat on her pillow. Her Polaroid camera, her very favourite purple top, and the ‘Alice’ necklace she wore every day, and the little photo-book that she kept by her bed.

It has to be things that won’t be missed, will be easily overlooked, but things that are precious to her, and thus precious to him.

Whatever happens next, he needs to keep them safe for her. Let her know that the things she treasured above everything else won’t end up at a garage sale or a thrift shop, won’t be boxed up and forgotten, won’t be thrown away. No, they’ll either find their way back to her hands, or they’ll be his shrine, his holy objects, for the rest of this cursed existence.

He goes back for the sweater.

—

Her heart stops twice. The first time, Carlisle hears about it second-hand and by the time he gets to her, she’s back.

The second time, people talk. That Dr Cullen was like a monster, forcing that girl back to life without compromise. That he short of reached into her chest and squeezed life back into her heart by hand.

It’s not going to help, the staff whisper. The Brandon girl is going to die, the youngest fatality in the state so far, before she even graduates high school. It would take some kind of miracle for her to come back from this, no matter how long Dr Cullen insists on delaying ‘time of death’.

—

The question needs to be asked, but he can’t form the words because it changes everything. It’s turning reality upside down and inside out. He’s never been good with change, and he was happy like this, for the first time in a long time.

Asking the question admits that he failed her.

He wishes he’d asked her before now, but it was one of those things they never talked about. And not in a tense, unspoken way. He can’t think of any moments with her that weren’t comfortable; love and affection and appreciation dipping and swirling between them.

They were going to be together forever, they both knew that. They were going to go to college and go travelling and get married. But neither of them ever specified if her eyes would be green or if they would be gold, and now he can’t ask her and he doesn’t know what would be worse - letting her go, or having her hate him for it, for the rest of their lives.

Why hadn’t he asked her?

—

Carlisle takes Edward to the hospital, to see if he can get a read on Alice’s thoughts; Edward looks grim and shakes his head minutely - whatever physical state she’s in, her thoughts are nothing decipherable now. There is no awareness of anything around her, and if her organs weren’t slowly failing, maybe they could wait.

They sit in Carlisle’s study, Edward feeling every year of his life, as they discuss Alice.

“Is it wrong that every single day, I’m grateful that it’s not Bella?” Edward says finally. “That the dice was rolled it was Alice, not Bella?”

Carlisle is quick to reassure Edward that anyone would feel the same, and he shouldn’t feel guilty. Except, Jasper overhears that statement and smashes the piano into kindling.

Bella was healthy. Bella probably wouldn’t have needed a hospital, let alone wasted away with broken ribs, and a machine breathing for her.

—

In the end, he doesn’t have to ask.

Carlisle offers.

He accepts and hates himself for it.

—

Mary-Alice Brandon dies at 1:57 a.m. on Saturday morning. Dr Cullen is more restrained this time, following procedure precisely before he calls it.

Alice’s family are still quarantined at home, and Mrs Brandon’s voice is quiet and shaky when Carlisle calls to give her the news. She doesn’t ask any questions, just thanks him and hangs up.

Her daughter died alone, with only a doctor, an intern, and two nurses clad in PPE with her. That’s what Mrs Brandon has to live with.

Carlisle comforts himself that he was with Alice when she died. That he already loves her like a father, and he watched over her as he prepared her for what came next. She wasn’t alone, and she was loved. That she would have felt no pain, no fear.

If this doesn’t work, he hopes that that offers Jasper some kind of peace.

—

The Brandons have Mary-Alice cremated, and interned at the local church as soon as they are allowed out of a quarantine. They have the funeral over the little hole in the ground where they will place the box of ashes; just the Brandons, all pale and solemn, Minister Weber, Angela Weber, Bella and Charlie Swan, and the Cullens.

It’s very short, with Minister Weber praying over the box, and then the box is placed into the hole, a tile with her name and the dates is settled into the dirt, and it’s over. Seventeen years of life, and that’s the final page in the book. There’s no reception, not during the current crisis, with the Brandons still so tired and weak. Cynthia puts a small wreath of daisies over the plaque, and Mr Brandon scowls when the bouquet of pink and yellow roses that Esme bestows upon the grave, from her own garden, is so much finer.

No one lingers in the rain, and Cynthia is quick to comment on how distant and cold Jasper Hale was, that he didn’t put any flowers on her grave, even though he claimed to love her.

“Teenage boys, Cece,” Mrs Brandon sighs, as they get in the car. “He’s probably already gotten over her. It was nice of him to come today, with his whole family.”

And then they drive away.

—

The basement of the Cullen house isn’t exactly the ideal place to undergo the transformation, but it is utterly sound proof, and they’ve made it as comfortable as they can. The plan is that, as soon as Alice awakens, Jasper will take her to Alaska for her newborn year - there’s too much risk, staying close to Forks.

Assuming she doesn’t pull him to pieces for changing her in the first place. It was supposed to be Carlisle who changed her, but in the moment, he’d just done it. It seemed like the natural response to seeing his mate in such a state, to lean into her throat and sink his teeth and venom into her whilst the others were fussing around, preparing for something so simple.

Everyone had been shocked he had the control, the self-restraint, to do such a thing but he didn’t bother to explain. He had done what needed to be done, and her wrath would be his to bear alone.

The sickness left her wasted and weak, and it is the quietest, stillest transformation he has ever been witness to. He sits with her, holding her hand like he wasn’t able to do in the hospital, watching as her body is healed from illness, from pain, from every little imperfection. She’s going to be lovely, of course, but in truth she’s no more or less beautiful to him after the venom than she was before.

She whimpers and cries and moves around a little, but mostly she is still.

Carlisle checks on him regularly, assuring him that she’s doing fine. Esme checks on him, and reassures him he made the right choice. Rosalie checks on him and tells him she’ll totally support Alice if she decides to dismember him for the next decade. Emmett checks on him and promises that he’ll keep Alice under control for the next year if Rosalie’s prediction is true.

Edward does not check on him, and instead plays his new piano loudly, still the indignant victim of the original’s destruction, agitated that this sudden change of plans has inconvenienced his own plans with Bella.

One day.

Two days.

She doesn’t wake up on the third day, and whilst he starts pacing, Carlisle tries to be reassuring. A longer transformation means nothing, not when her body was so completely damaged from illness. It’s going to be fine.

It’s the middle of the fourth day when her heart is racing, and there’s nothing left for the venom to do; Esme and Rose have washed and dressed her in a clean dress, brushed her hair out of her eyes, and now it’s just waiting.

Waiting for that moment when her heart

just

stops.

And she opens her eyes.

—

The first thing Alice is aware of is love. Adoration. It’s wrapped around her, warm and sweet, and so when she opens her eyes, she is already smiling. No one could do anything less, not when they are so certain of their worth.

Everything is quite strange, sharp, and clear, like a veil has been lifted over her eyes. She can’t quite remember what came before this little bed, this room, - was she sick? - but it doesn’t really seem that important. She’s looking around for something… no, someone.

He’s crouched about four feet away, golden eyes fixed on her with a look of clear desperation. He looks like he’s holding his breath, like he’s waiting for something.

Jasper. Her Jasper. A million little thoughts, memories, erupt in her mind - laughter, stolen kisses, plans and hopes and dreams, and that feeling of perfect love that she’s still wrapped up in, only she’s not sure if that’s her love for him or his love for her. She decides that it doesn’t matter.

“Jasper?” her voice sounds a little different to her own ears. She thinks about getting up, and suddenly she is standing, only a foot away from him.

“Alice,” his voice practically caresses her name, and he straightens up, towering over her (still?). “How are you feeling? Do you remember what hap-”

Before he can finish his sentence, her arms are around him, and she’s clinging to him like she’ll never let go.

“You did it, you did it. I was so, so worried you’d change your mind or be chivalrous or something ridiculous,” she babbles into his shirt, and he gently pulls back to look at her eyes (perfectly red, framed in black eyelashes, and oh, he’s falling in love all over again).

“I never asked you if you wanted this,” he says hoarsely, smoothing her hair from her face.

Her laugh is like … delight, the bubbles in champagne, perfect happiness.

“Oh, Jas,” she smiles at him. “There was never any question to ask.”

(He kisses her then, not like high school sweethearts; he kisses her like she’s his beautiful, perfect, newborn mate and he’s not even a little bit sure how she’s managing to tolerate the burn her throat and the thirst this long because the only reason they don’t put her little cot to another use is because Carlisle comes down to check on them, his relief like a cool spring breeze when he sees the smile on Alice’s face and the matching one on Jasper’s.)

—

They leave Forks two weeks after she dies and rises again, with a smile on her face. They leave hand-in-hand, vanishing into the forest towards Alaska. A year there, and then as much time as she needs to maintain control around humans.

And then… they have so many plans. She wants to go to college, study fashion or maybe painting or maybe photography… and they want to go travelling, to all those places on the list in her diary. She wants to help Esme restore a house, and have Rosalie teach her to drive. She wants to meet every single one of their friends, and he can’t wait to introduce her to Peter and Charlotte.

And he wants to marry her, in a white dress, with a preacher. He wants to watch her marvel at the Northern Lights, and create havoc at Milan Fashion Week, and dance with her to the old records in his study. He wants to make sure that there is never a single moment, a single thought, where she ever regrets what she lost. Anything she wants, he’ll bring it to her.

She looks up him, sensing his worry, and lifts his hand to her lips.

“It’s okay, Jas. It’s all going to be amazing,” she murmurs to him, leaning against him as they walk. “You don’t have to worry - we’ve got all the time in the world.”

They leave Forks at 11:28 p.m on a Tuesday, hand-in-hand, and neither of them looks back.

[rosemarypasta]

always with me ♡

➤  pairing : kuroo tetsurou x kenma kozume

➤  warnings : drinking (legal), minor occupation spoilers from time skip

➤ tags: canon compliant, post graduation & time skip, lil angsty

➤  summary : “I promise.” Kuroo reassures the crying boy after his graduation. Being one year apart was always filled with uncertainty and good byes for the two childhood friends though the age gap has never successfully driven them apart until now. Despite making a mutual promise to never leave, is that really what’s best for them?

➤ chapter word count : 6322

♡ masterpost ♡

“With that being said, congratulations to the class of 2013 for graduating.” The lengthy speech given by the principal marks the end of the Nekoma third year students’ high school career.

Kenma Kozume, a second year who was watching the ceremony suddenly felt wetness on top of his hands that he had rested on his lap. He tilts his head up to see if there was a leak from the gymnasium’s ceiling but instead felt the droplets run from each side of his cheeks and down the sides of his neck.

“Dramatic much?” Kenma brings his head back down to face a certain black haired third year holding a scroll. He wipes his tears hastily before scowling a muffled “shut up” to the older boy.

The two walks home in similar manners like before. Just like how they used to come home for the last ten years of their lives. Walking in a slow pace with their shoes grazing against the concrete road but this time instead of Kuroo’s comments and Kenma’s low effort replies, it’s being filled with silence and occasional sniffles. Kuroo isn’t the type of guy to get awkward at the sight of silence, especially not with his best friend, but at this time, he didn’t know what to say. And when the two get closer and closer to their shared neighbourhood and Kenma’s footsteps abruptly stops while his sniffles get louder, Kuroo truly feels cornered.

Kenma, to begin with, never really showed his emotions on his sleeve so when he shows this side to the world once in a millennium, even a childhood friend can feel clueless. Does he make witty comments? Will that make it better or worse? Does he hug him? Knowing Kenma, he would probably beat the shit out of Kuroo.

But as the former volleyball captain watchs the setter burst into genuine tears, his body instinctively drops his belongings on the ground and rushes to engulf the smaller boy’s body. Realising that Kenma isn’t being the normal Kenma, he lets go of his worries of getting jabbed in the stomach by him.

“W-why are you hugging me.” He says sloppily, tears staining the taller’s shirt. “My body moved on it’s own.” Kuroo replies truthfully, letting Kenma bury his face into his chest.

He pats the setter’s back soothingly and allows him to stay in this position for as long as he wants. Kuroo allows himself to take the opportunity to twirl the bleached blonde hair with his fingers, something he always wanted to do ever since Kenma dyed his hair a year ago. It was unexpectedly soft for someone who has little to no cares about his appearance. As Kuroo expects, he says nothing but continues to weep into Kuroo’s shirt. A smile creeps up his face as he enjoys this rare side of his childhood best friend.

He sighs as he rests his chin on top of the younger’s head. “You know I won’t be moving out right? I’ll still hang out with you every weekend.” He chuckles. The setter pulls his head away from his chest for the first time to meet the older’s eyes with his teary ones. “Really? You promise?” His voice shaky and hoarse. The hopeful tone in his voice makes Kuroo sigh happily. “I promise.” He replies.

“C’mon! Lets get home.” He ends, patting the boy’s head before sliding down to grab his wrist. “Don’t touch my head.” Kenma mumbles bitterly as he reverts to his normal self, drying his face with his free arm. The scent of his best friend still lingering even when he had pulled away moments ago.

“Well, see you later.” Kuroo smiles at his sniffling friend as they arrive at the younger’s house. “See you.” He mumbles back before rushing into his own home.

Contrary to Kenma’s thoughts, he did see Kuroo again. They hung out nearly every other day for the entirety of the break they had before school started for the two of them. They spent most of the time in one of their homes and bedrooms playing video games but the two were more than acquainted with this routine. Afterall, befriending Kenma comes with a set of rules that involves the outdoors.

Kuroo turns around to laugh at his friend once again. “Were you always like this when I graduated ahead?” He grins as the wind from the coming train breezes through his hair as he stands in front of an unfamiliar platform. He expected a bitter comment from Kenma but instead watches him bury half his face into the scarf wrapped around his neck.

“You should go, don’t want you to be late on your first day of your third year right?” Kuroo smirks, patting the silent boy on the shoulder. The train on Kuro’s platform rushes through in front of the two before coming to a stop. The gates open and he immediately marchs in but gets unexpectedly restrained from the setter’s grasp. The younger boy had his head lowered, only showing his black roots to Kuro, his pale fist balled up with the corner of Kuroo’s jacket.

“See you this Saturday.” He announces to which the setter raises his head in surprise at the sudden promise made. His hand lets go of the university student’s jacket and allows him to board the train before walking alone to the platform he usually walked side by side with the older boy.

Months passed by quicker than the two had anticipated. And just as the two promised each other, both Kuroo and Kenma still hang out with each other routinely every weekend. Kuroo certainly doesn't mind hanging out with Kenma every weekend. While university is fun and new, having to go through the wildness and chaos for five days a week is more than enough for him. And he thought his volleyball club back in high school was chaotic.

The black haired boy was walking through the shopping district when he feels a buzz in his pocket.

Kenma: Are you not coming?

He chuckles lightly to himself at his friend’s text.

Kuroo: I am.

Kuroo: Just had to grab a few things for my old man.

Kuroo: be there in twenty

He slides his phone back in his pocket after he sees a content “ok” hand emoji sent by Kenma. He hoists the bags up in his arms, bracing them for a run back home before he sees a familiar mohawk and a tall russian boy.

“Yamamoto! Lev!” He calls out from across the street with a big grin on his face. He planned to be one of those alumni who stop by the school one too many times and observe the club to see how they were doing but university life was far more hectic than he predicted.

“Kuroo-san!” The two yell out in unison, scrambling across the road to greet their former captain. Kuroo takes a second to scan the current captain and future ace with a proud smile on his face. “Are you going to Kenma’s?” Yamamoto grins cheekily.

“How’d you know?” Kuroo asks back in curiosity.

“Man, how could we not know? All he does is talk about you! Kuro this, Kuro that. Man, you keep haunting us even after graduation huh?” Yamamoto grins cheekily at the Nekoma alumni, swinging his own shopping bag on top of his shoulder.

Kuroo smiles warmly. He was never the type to be a self-absorbed captain like Bokuto or Seijoh’s Oikawa but he did find it nice that he and his hard work isn’t forgotten by the younger generation.

“But Kuroo-san! You’d never believe what happened to Kenma-san th-” Lev enthusiastically shoves Yamamoto to the side , overbearing with excitement before Yamamoto shoves him back to his place with a scowl on his face. “Idiot, he's probably the first one to know about this.”  scoffs while Kuroo looks completely lost.

“What happened with Kenma?” He raises his brow at the two squabbling high schoolers.

“Kuro!”

Flustered with the sudden yell, Kuroo throws the manga he was holding in his hand up in the air. “Y-Yes?” He croaks out, grasping his fastly beating chest on the floor beside the bed. Kenma retreats from peeking from the edge to settling back to the corner of his bed before replying, “You’ve stayed at that page for five minutes straight now. Did you forget how to read?” He says in a monotone voice, his eyes already immersed back into the video game he had on the game console. Kuroo fumbles with his word to reply back with a wittily but ultimately had nothing to say. Knowing Kenma for most of his life, he knew he had already catched on.

“What’s wrong, Kuro.” The anticipated question finally came. Kuroo turns to meet the boy’s eyes but unable to as the other’s is being glued onto the screen of his phone. He crawls up on the bed to lie in front of Kenma casually and takes a long big sigh before speaking. “So, Um, what’s up with school? Is third year rough without me tutoring you every lunch period?” Kuroo’s mouth was dry but still persevered. “Nothing special, classes are fine, I eat lunch with Tora and Fukunaga now and the new first years are okay I guess.” He lists down, still occupied with the game he fiddles with his fingers.

Kuroo looks at his friend’s face in anticipation, watching his lips for any slight movement but Kenma’s mouth didn’t part.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Kuroo lies down on his back to see Kenma’s plain white ceiling. From first glance, it seemed ordinary and pristine but the longer one would look at it, anyone could see tiny black cracks that have formed in the corners of the white space from being lived in for too long.

Though it should be fine for now.

“Kuro, you’re acting weird. Just spill it out.” Kenma says out of frustration, even turning his phone off in the process. His cat-like eyes were now onto Kuroo’s ones which are now averting his gaze, choosing the ceiling instead.

Kuroo debates with his thoughts silently as he eyes the cracks on the ceiling but gives in to his curiosity. “So, who’s Kyoka-chan?” He tries to pass it off as calm and cool, adding a small series of snickers at the end of his question.

Kenma groans and buries his face in his hands at the presence of the girl’s name who is unfamiliar to Kuroo’s ears. “Izumi Kyoka, a girl from Tora’s class, She- Wait, how do you know about her anyways?” His speech got increasingly faster as each word left his mouth. Kuroo can tell he was trying to keep his cool but his bewildered eyes says otherwise.

“Yamamoto and Lev. I er..bumped into them before I went here.” Kuroo replies truthfully, getting another groan from the blonde setter who is in agony. “So, she confessed to you?” He finishes Kenma’s words for him, seeing as though Kenma would probably never complete them as he is busy with coming up with a plan when he meets his two teammates on Monday.

“Yeah. Said she started liking me because I returned her lost textbook once or something...I don’t really remember doing it though.” He explains in a low voice. Kuroo sits up straight as he sighs lightly, “So what did you say? When are you going on a date?” He playfully pats Kenma on the shoulder, rocking him side by side lightly.

“She asked to go on a date today but I obviously turned her down.”

“T-Today? What- why? Why did you turn her down?” Kuroo leans in eagerly, his eyes wide. He had never once received a love confession in high school so he was absolutely ecstatic at the news though an itchy feeling in his chest started to appear.

“Cuz I don’t want to go?” Kuroo looks at Kenma, astonished. He knew Kenma never was the type to be interested in relationships as he always dipped out of conversations when the topic of girlfriends and crushes came up when the volleyball team was rambling on random things during practice and late night talks in camps but Kuroo just figured he was shy about it and didn’t want to push him. It also occurs to Kuroo that Kenma never had a crush that Kuroo was aware of for all the years he had known him.

“And I had plans with you so…” He continues, mumbling as he continues his game.

“What?! I should be the least of your problems! We meet up every week anyway!” The older immediately yells, baffled at his friend’s priorities. “Yeah, and so? I’d rather hang out with you.” Kenma fires back, his eyebrows raised as he huffs at Kuroo.

Kuroo gulps back the lump in his throat, grabbing one of the pillows on the bed, “But it’s a girl.” He continues with a low voice, taken aback at how much he was fired up from Kenma’s words. “And?” Kenma puts an end to the conversation as he rolled his eyes, huffing back to lean against the wall to continue gaming.

The day progresses without any visible tension as the two continue reading and gaming on their own. The room only fills with occasional small talk and absent minded humming, just like every other week but as the sky slowly turns dark and Kenma sets Kuroo off back home. 

One thought floods Kuroo’s mind. There was no doubt that he was holding Kenma back and he had to do something.

Before it’s too late.

Seven days goes by in a blink and Kuroo waits for Kenma’s weekly text asking if they were going to hang out with a thumping heart as he spins in his chair in his bedroom. He chews on his bottom lips as he watches his phone screen he sets on his desk impatiently. He knows what he was doing is bad but it’s for a good cause. It’s for Kenma’s sake.

The university student almost falls over his chair as he rushes to grab his phone from the table as it lights up with a single notification on the screen. Kuroo’s eyes scan the limited words on the screen before typing the planned answer he had in his mind.

Kenma: You coming?

Kuroo bites his lip harshly as his thumb hovers above the send button on the right side of the blinding screen. He takes a double take and removes his thumb from the screen momentarily but remembers the words he said to him exactly seven days ago and forces himself to press the button.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” He chants out harshly as the message sends. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or nervous as he saw that his message was officially sent and is on display on Kenma's screen.

Kuroo: Sorry I gotta pass. My mom asked me to run some errands for the whole day :(

Kenma: Okay

Kenma: See you next week then

Kuroo sinks into his chair once again after shutting his phone off. An ounce of regret settling into his heart though he knew it was for the best.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Kuroo dashes through the bustling street, chanting the same word over and over again as beads of sweat trickle down his face. His slick skin mirrors the various colors of neon lights displayed in front of the street of bars and restaurants. Kuroo stops sharply as his eye catches the sight of the familiar bar. He momentarily fixes his hair and brushes down his shirt before walking in the building, trying to calm his breathing down. He smiles at the host up front, signaling that he knows where to go and searches for room number 5.

After crossing the hallway for less than a minute, Kuroo initially planned to check his phone to confirm the room number but goes ahead and opens the door as he hears a series of familiar laughter and screams.

“Kuroo-san!” The room immediately chanted as he showed himself to the people in the room. A vivid yet slurred “You’re late!” fills his ears, causing the room to erupt into laughter once again. Kuroo rubs the back of his neck and apologizes sheepishly to the room of half drunk young adults. He turns his back to close the door to the private room Kai had booked beforehand and allows himself to switch modes to his fun and upbeat one, far different from the one he had moments ago while typing away on his computer.

seven years have passed since his high school graduation and the Nekoma volleyball team from when Kuroo used to be the captain of, decided to hold a spontaneous reunion. Kuroo kept in touch with most of his high school friends but being a young adult in an intense industry limits the free time he owns.

“Mr.Volleyball Association finally decided to show up huh? But I’m still surprised you didn’t go pro though.” A blonde haired libero grinned, wiping his mouth with his sleeve after taking a swig of his beer. The whole room agrees in unison as Kuroo makes his way through the crowd to sit in one of the remaining free spots which was in between Kai, who organised the whole thing, and Yamamoto. “Yeah, who knew you would be the one to make the national team!” Lev bluntly chuckles out, throwing his head back before earning a fist from the elder.

“Anyways, why were you late Kuroo-san? You were always the first person to arrive for morning practice back then.” Yamamoto’s bright eyes light up the room as he offers a bowl of edamame beans to his former captain. “Work ran late.” He lies casually, taking a string of beans after taking off his blazer and setting it aside. A month ago when the topic of a reunion was brought up in the usually silent 2013 nekoma group chat, Kuroo was excited to see his old teammates but with the adult world taking up all his time, he only remembered that the very same reunion he couldn’t wait to attend was happening twenty minutes ago when he finally took the time to check his phone after a session of overtime.

A waitress shortly approaches him and lets him order his drink of choice. While waiting for his order to arrive, his eyes scan the room to realize that there were two empty chairs “Well at least I’m not the latest one.” Kuroo grins towards Yamamoto as he simultaneously attempts to jog his memory to find the missing people. “Ah! That’s right! I wonder where they are. But I guess you would know where he is.” Yamamoto replies absentmindedly, pulling his phone out of his pocket to text the missing teammates. “Hm?” Kuroo’s eyebrow rises at the younger’s statement. What was he talking about? Kuroo only really talks to the other guys in his year, Lev and Yamamoto so he really wouldn’t know anything about the others. Who was he talking about?

“Oh! There they are!” The sound of the door sliding open accompanies Yamamoto’s exclamation. Everyone’s eyes including Kuroo’s turn towards the open door in anticipation for the late comers. Kuroo’s eyes light up at the sight of Fukunaga, remembering his junior but his expression quickly contorts to surprise as he caught a glimpse of the shorter man hiding behind the taller of the two.

Everyone stands to cheer at the last two to arrive, “Fukunaga! Kenma!” The room breaks into a chaotic series of chants as Kuroo feels himself sink into his seat deeper involuntarily in silence. The taller wing spiker enters the room first, making his way to a free seat beside Inuoka and Lev, revealing the setter whose face is covered by his own hair. No matter how much Kuroo wants to avoid eye contact, his eyes stay peeled at his old best friend still standing outside the room. He still stands in the awful posture Kuroo tried his best in fixing for the whole entirety of his high school career but his hair is much different now. It’s longer than the chin length he used to keep during his teens to the point where it nearly reaches his droopy shoulders. His hair is nearly all black and only the tips of his hair remain blonde from when he bleached his hair in his first year of high school. And unlike the majority of the room who were dressed in business attire from their nine to five jobs, the setter dressed in an oversized black hoodie and casual dark jeans with rips on both knees.

Kenma makes his way to his seat in between Inuoka and Shibayama, the seat right across Kuroo. He sits down comfortably in between his juniors, tucking his hair behind his left ear. A chill goes down Kuroo’s spine as the setter shoots a second of swift and sharp eye contact with him. Not giving the older time to react, he turns to both sides of his seat to greet his juniors, smiling brightly. Dumbfounded and overwhelmed, he feels relieved when the waitress comes over with his drink so he can at least pretend to be casual and busy himself as his chest tightens up.

He bites his lip as he realizes that he is the world’s biggest idiot and asshole. Seven years passed by and he had not spoken a single word to Kenma. Sure, Kenma could’ve taken the initiative if he was mad at Kuroo but he definitely should have at least popped in for a quick chat every once in a while. It was his idea to distance from Kenma but he didn’t mean to forget about him completely.

But was he upset? Is Kenma the type to get upset over these things? Kuroo’s eyes travel back up slowly towards Kenma’s direction and jump in his seat discretely as his eyes immediately meet the cold gaze of Kenma’s golden eyes. His half lidded cat eyes never felt so cold. Of course he was mad. Who was Kuroo kidding? He even made a promise to not leave him even though he graduated ahead and what did he do? He did the complete opposite of the promise.

“So Kenma-san! How are you doing? Are you eating well? I saw that your stream went until four in the morning! Must be nice to be self employed huh? Do you cook for yourself?” Lev bombards the setter with questions. Kuroo swears he could see a wagging tail and a matching pair of dog ears on the russian’s head. The room joins in with the middle blocker as the subject of the conversation curls in his seat. Kuroo chuckles at himself for a bit. He thought Kenma had gotten friendlier and closer to his teammates but this just shows how much he hasn't changed in a whole seven years. He was still the same old Kenma.

“Ah! I doubt Kenma-san would cook for himself so Kuroo-san would probably be the one to do it for him.” Lev proceeds to shift the conversation topic to the lone man sitting on the complete opposite side of the setter. Kuroo’s mouth felt dry as he attempted to find things to talk about. What were they talking about? He knows how much Kenma doesn’t take care of himself but he’s an adult now. To what extent does his laziness reach? And four AM? What job has those ridiculous hours? Is he really self employed? Kuroo feels shame pricking on his cheeks. He couldn’t believe he didn’t know a single thing about Kenma at this point.

Everyone’s eyes were on Kuroo. He swallows a lump in his throat as his eyebrow crooks up and down, attempting his best to answer the simple question. The answer is no. A simple two lettered word that’s supposed to roll off his tongue easily but the word struggles to come out. He sees Kenma’s expression, a smirk and an eyebrow raised, enjoying the tortured expression on Kuroo’s face.

“I um, I-” He chokes out before getting interrupted.

“He does sometimes. He makes pretty good beef stew.” A voice unexpectedly says, making all the heads in the room whip back towards Kenma. Kuroo stares at the setter wide eyed but he didn’t look back, looking casually as he smoothly changes the topic of the conversation to Fukunaga’s upcoming comedy show.

Kuroo had to take a double take for a second. It was a lie. He didn’t see Kenma for almost a decade but why did he lie for him like that? What benefit would that bring him? There are so many questions in Kuroo’s head and he feels like he could give up anything to lay down for a while to subdue his headache but alas, he was stuck in a high school reunion filled with overly loud and drunk young adults.

The night progresses like most of their old practice time. Lev and Yaku arguing, Yamamoto, Inuoka and Shibayama talking about girls and Fukunaga reciting some of his jokes. It was chaotic and loud to say the least. Kuroo attempts to push his anxiety away and talk to his old vice captain. He is thankful he was beside Kai, the most sane person even when drunk as he couldn’t possibly imagine if he had to keep up a conversation with Yamamoto or Yaku with the big headache he is having. At some point, with three mugs of beer down, Kuroo actually starts to enjoy himself.

But of course, this momentary bliss of catching up with his old friends does not last long.

Amidst the ruckus, a conversation from across the room sticks out louder than others. “C’mon Kenma-san~” The young silver haired model whines, dragging out the “san” as he had both of his oversized hands on Kenma’s small shoulders. “No, ugh, get off me, Lev.” Kenma huffs, trying to push Lev’s hands away with his elbows. “Pleaase! You’re so pretty, I’m sure they’ll let you in!” Lev continues, wrapping his long arms around Kenma’s neck, bringing their cheeks together to Kenma’s misfortune. Kuroo turns towards Yamamoto, who is currently laughing at the ordeal. “Lev is trying to get Kenma to model in a project he’s in.” Yamamoto explains in between laughs, clearly enjoying the scene. Kuroo joins with Yamamoto, he couldn’t deny it, seeing Kenma on a billboard in the middle of Shibuya will definitely give the whole Nekoma team material to laugh at. He would be the last person to be seen there.

“Ugh! Shut up already!” Kenma’s usually small voice booms as he slams his hands on the table, causing half empty glass mugs to clink with one another. The whole room turns silent, watching the ticked off setter stomp out of the room. “W-Where are you going? Lev! Cut it out!” Yaku speaks out in the middle of the stillness. “To smoke.” He replies casually before sliding the door closed harshly with a swift motion of his wrist.

As soon as Kenma leaves, all eyes turn towards Lev, who receives a stinging slap on his back from the senior libero. “Fine! Fine! I’ll find him.” Lev huffs like a child in the middle of a tantrum. “No, you’ll make things worse like you always do.” Yaku barked at the younger, “Kuroo, go. You always know what he’s thinking and what to say.” The blonde continues in a calmer tone, turning his head to Kuroo, who was as stunned as the rest of the group. He wanted to refuse, approaching someone you’ve never talked to in seven years who’s so clearly angry at him when he’s having a drunken fit? He’ll get a much more violent slap than what Lev received from Yaku, and he is certain that it won’t be on the back but alas, nothing goes his way. Before he could even get a say in it, Yamamoto was already pushing him up from his seat.

The anxiousness from earlier in the night begins to return to Kuroo’s body. He forces his legs with all his might to get up and walk out to find his “best friend”. He exits the bar and checks one of the alleys, bracing himself for a slap or two on the face once he does find Kenma. The left alley is filled with unidentified smokers, Kuroo doubts that Kenma would be around there so he walks over to the other one.

He pops his head hesitantly into the right alley to get a scene of the man he was looking for, alone with his phone in his hands leaning against the building beside the bar. Kuroo takes a deep breath before entering the dark cramped space, walking over to lean against the wall right in front of the younger.

“Not smoking?” Kuroo starts, getting rid of the awkward silence as Kenma didn’t bother to raise his head at the arrival of his old childhood friend. “I don’t do all that. I just said that to get away.” He says with his signature small voice, letting a second of silence pass by before replying.

“Why? Do you?”

“Huh? M-Me? No way.” Kuroo replies a second too fast, as if he was a teenager getting caught smoking in the boy’s bathroom by a teacher. “Guess we don’t know anything about each other, huh?” He continues to sound casual, following his words with a stiff series of chuckles.

You always know what he’s thinking and what to say? Yeah right. Kuroo didn’t even know if he graduated high school or actually dropped out halfway through third year to become a full time gamer like he always whined about when Kuroo tutored him for upcoming tests.

Kenma raises his face from his phone, staring at the taller man in a dress shirt with a deadpan expression, “And who’s fault do you think that is?” He spits out, his voice louder than before. A cold gush of the Tokyo air accompanies the setter’s words.

Kuroo bites his tongue as his head droops down to face his shoes. He’s right, he is an asshole. He’d want to slap himself too if he were in Kenma’s shoes. He digs his shoes deeper into the concrete, his whole body feels like it’s on fire but simultaneously felt so cold. “I’m sorry.” Kuroo whispers out the only two words he can say.

“You’re sorry?” Kenma scoffs, anger evident in his voice. “You think a mere sorry can make up for the whole seven years you left me all alone? Glad to know your idiot brain never changed over all these years cause that’s pretty much the only thing I know about you now.” His voice keeps rising as each word leaves his lips. “No calls, no texts, no nothing!” He was practically yelling at this point. Kuroo was for once grateful that Friday nights were always loud so no one would hear the setter’s yells.

“And what about you, huh? You didn’t try either. It’s always me, me, me, doing things in this friendship!” Kuroo barks back through gritted teeth, finally changing his view from the ground to the angered man. “And I did it for your sake! But of course, you’re too selfish to realize that!” He scoffs.

“Excuse me? For my sake?” His voice starts out low. Despite it being so loud outside, his voice is clearer than ever in Kuroo’s half drunken ears. Even with the limited light outside, Kuroo can see how the setter’s eyes are wide open, bewildered at the older’s words. “Don’t act like you know me because you don't.” He staggers closer to Kuroo, footsteps heavy. “You know nothing.” He yells just inches away from Kuroo’s face, jabbing his finger into the stunned man’s chest.

The two stay inches away for a minute, both panting after screaming their lungs out. “Stay away from me.” The long haired man whispers, his voice threatening to break. He pulls back and takes a sharp turn, fumbling with his phone as he makes his way out of the alley. “W-Where are you going?” Kuroo croaks out, trying his best to stay angry though the sight of the skinny man stumbling with his steps out got the better of him. “Home, you dipshit!” Kenma yells out once again.

Kuroo watches as the setter almost makes his way out but catches him trip on his own foot. He rushes with all his might, propping his hand behind the man’s back. Kuroo, being so immersed in his feelings, didn’t realize how drunk Kenma was looking. Even under the darkness over the midnight sky, he can still see that his face is flushed red and his eyes are barely open.

“Get off me.” He mutters angrily, though his tone is nowhere as threatening as before.

Kuroo hesitates before sighing at the man who was still limp in his arms. “I’ll get you home.” He says calmly, expecting Kenma to retaliate and slap his face but he unexpectedly stays quiet almost as if he admits defeat.

After awkwardly shooting a text to Kai explaining half of the situation and asking him for a favor to secretly bring his bag out, the two childhood friends manage to get into a taxi. “Where to, sir?” The driver upfront starts right as Kuroo closes the door behind him after hauling a half conscious Kenma in the back seat. “Ah, um.” Kuroo replies, trying to remember the address to Kenma’s old house. “I moved out. My address is in my notes.” He grumbles out with a small voice despite being asked, waving his phone in Kuroo’s face.

“But what’s your pas-” He asks in a panic, worrying that Kenma would fall asleep though his sentences were cut short, just realizing how his fingers have subconsciously tapped in the correct password to his phone. He scoffs to himself as he goes through the notes app in Kenma’s phone, amused at the fact that he had yet to change his password code since he got his very first smartphone back in high school.

The two embark on the journey after Kuroo manages to find the address and recite it to the driver upfront. He didn’t know where it was as he has never been there or even which apartment number Kenma stays at since it isn’t listed in the note. The uncertainty brought dampness to his palms.

His eyes wander to the younger man knocked out beside him. His head is tilted to rest on the opposing door to Kuroo. As bright street light passes by, illuminating the contents of the silent taxi momentarily, Kuroo can see Kenma’s face properly for the first time tonight and Lev was right.

He did look pretty.

From a quick glance, one would think not much changed with him but once you get past the distracting locks of hair, his features did change. His jawline is much more defined after going through puberty. His lips look plumper than before and his eyelashes appear longer, not that Kuroo ever really paid attention to him in the past but he was certain that if they were that long back then, he would have noticed. Even sleeping, he has Kuroo’s eyes peeled on him. Kuroo’s only half sober mind debates on waking Kenma up so he could see his cat like eyes properly but decides to want to live another day.

The car ride takes longer than Kuroo had anticipated. Nearly dozing off a few times but managing to stay awake, the car slowly comes to stop nearly an hour after. Kuroo gulps a lump in his throat when he looks out the window. “We’re in the right place, r-right?” He timidly questions the driver upfront. The car is parked in what seems like the middle of the woods, in front of a dark traditional japanese estate.

Kuroo manages to pay the fare and sling Kenma’s arm around his neck. He drags both his and Kenma’s body in front of the front door. The elder holds his breath before fishing through the unconscious’ pockets for the key to, hopefully, this house, seeming how he appears to not bring anything aside from himself and his phone.

He lets out a sigh of relief as the key he found in Kenma’s back pocket fits perfectly with the front door, letting him in. He shakes his own shoes off and carefully removes Kenma’s ones. “My room’s down the hall.” He mutters as he feels Kuroo’s head turn around in all directions to attempt finding the bedroom. The middle blocker’s cheeks heats up slightly while dragging Kenma into his bedroom.

So he was awake when I literally felt up his body for the keys?

Kuroo’s ears were still red when he plops Kenma’s half awake body in the middle of his king sized bed. He watches for a while how the man wiggles in the comfort of his own bed and buries his face into his duvet.

“I um, I’ll go now.” Kuroo states, not expecting an answer. He turns on his heel to head out the door but unexpectedly gets slammed by a pillow on the head before doing so. Confused, he turns around while rubbing his head to see a sight of the long haired man sitting cross legged on the bed with his head tilted down.

“Don’t leave.” he croaks out silently.

Kuroo rushes over to the man in the black hoodie as he sees something glimmering fall down from his head to his hands. He naturally cradles Kenma’s head into his own neck. It’s his first time seeing him cry in seven years. “Are you still drunk?” He asks slowly, with amusement in his voice though he didn’t get an answer. Instead, muffled sniffles fill the room.

“Don’t leave me.” Kenma says a little louder this time. The vibrations made against Kuroo’s neck made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “I won’t.” He replies, his breath staggering.

“You’re always with me.”

A/N: I’d like to thank the Kenma episode of Haikyuu season four for giving me enough serotonin to finish this fic despite my HEAVILY PACKED schedule as a high school senior <3 means a lot. 

Anyways, thank you for reading my first kuroken fic! I was too accustomed to writing Tsukkiyama dynamics so I had a hard time writing this. This is also my first time ever in my life not writing in past tense so please forgive me if I made any mistakes lmao. Bilingual culture gets to me sometimes :’) I also proof read this in the middle of class so ignore any errors!

Thank you again and see you in my next fic (which is most likely tsukkiyama again cuz this shit is too hard)!

taglist (dm or send an ask to be tagged):

@teasbees-knees​ @yeetabish​ @kirishimakenma

[more-pokeimagines]

Stone cold body [02] - Chapter 1

A/N: Thank you for your feedback on the prologue, I’m really happy that you like the story so far! I hope you enjoy the first chapter as well. It got a lot longer than I expected when I started it but I like the way it turned out. Feedback is always appreciated.

Warnings: none

Present

You were absolutely sure that it was going to be a great day. The sky was bright blue and cloudless, the air warm enough that you decided to leave your hoodie in the car. You took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of the bushes and flowers that surrounded the old market square in the center of Wyndon.

It was the fourth day of your road trip, together with your best friends Hop and Gloria. You had known them both since your very first day of school and you quickly became so inseparable that people referred to you as the Siamese Triplets. You never spent a day, sometimes not even an hour without each other, almost as if you were attached to each others' hips. Later on, everyone, including your parents, called you the Chaotic Trio, mostly because Hop loved to play pranks on other people and always put you and Gloria up to keep watch while he prepared everything. School had been great with your friends by your side. You had always been there for each other, even when Gloria and Hop got together a few weeks before your final exams, and when they asked you if you wanted to go on a road trip with them right after graduation, you simply couldn't say No.

So far, everything had been perfect. You had spent a lot of time exploring the cities surrounding your home town, visiting ruins of ancient castles and underground vaults that had been abandoned centuries ago but besides that, you also went for a stroll around town more than once because Gloria loved shopping more than anything else. You, on the other hand, weren't a big fan of it, just like Hop, but since you wanted your friends to enjoy your holiday as well, you were more than fine with striking a compromise. If Gloria agreed to visit old, dusty places with you, you could definitely spend some time in a boutique without complaining.

“Hey, (Y/N).” Hop's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He pointed towards the fountain in the middle of the square and held his phone up. “I'm taking a picture of Gloria in front of the fountain, do you wanna join her?”

You shook your head. While Gloria never missed an opportunity to upload photos from your trip to her personal social media account, you liked to keep everything a bit more private. You also weren't the biggest fan of seeing yourself in a photograph, so you usually made sure that you stayed as far away from Gloria as possible when she started snapping photos. In the past, it had happened more than once that she managed to take a picture when you weren't looking, so you had promised yourself to be extra careful in the future.

While Gloria was posing in front of the fountain, making faces at Hop who giggled behind his phone, you wandered around on the square. It was surrounded by a variety of restaurants, cafés and cute, little shops that sold all kinds of souvenirs and hand-crafted goods like candles, jewelry and small paintings of Wyndon's old town. You took a few minutes to inspect one of the paintings. It showed the square in the middle of winter, the fountain covered in snow.Everything looked peaceful and calm, not as busy and overcrowded as during the summer months.

You knew that Wyndon was famous for its history. The royal family had lived and died here, many, many years ago when the growing city had been surrounded by woods and wild nature. People could still visit the King's castle and explore the ruins up on the hill on the left side of the old town. The square you were currently visiting had been the commercial center back then; people came from far and wide to sell their goods or to bask in the King's favor when he and his guards visited the market.

But the historical value of Wyndon wasn't the only reason why people still traveled here. Most of them didn't even care about the castle or the various museums about the royal family. No, Wyndon was still the magical center of Galar, no matter how modern and developed the city was. Of course almost no one practiced magic anymore, as most sorcerers had been killed during the Great Hunt nearly three centuries ago. But there were still people out there who believed that their descendants would bring the magic back one day.

Utter nonsense, at least in your opinion. The magic had disappeared when the King had burned the last sorcerer at the stake, and it would never return. People didn't need magic anymore, they had machines and other technical playthings to solve their problems. But of course the whole story was still a nice magnet for tourists – even you couldn't deny that.

You sat down on a bench next to a souvenir shop while you waited for Gloria and Hop to finish their photo session. It was fun to watch them though, making faces at each other and striking the most exaggerated poses. Obviously, they were having fun, and you couldn't help but laugh when Gloria tried to climb onto the railing that surrounded the fountain to get a better shot. Hop was laughing too. “Stop it,” he said. “I'm not going to help you if you fall.”

Gloria grimaced at him once again but eventually, she let go of the railing and returned back to his side to have a look at the photos. You watched her scrolling through her camera roll, sometimes deleting a picture she didn't like while Hop was peeking over her shoulder to make an occasional comment about the photos. “That's pretty,” he told her and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. Gloria giggled. “Don't be stupid. I look like a scarecrow.”

“You always look like a scarecrow, so that's not really a surprise,” you said and put on the most innocent smile as Gloria flashed her eyes at you. “Oh shush, will you.”

You blew her a kiss. “I love you too.”

*

Half an hour later, the three of you sat in a café right by the old market square. Gloria still hadn't decided which photo she wanted to upload to her social media accounts and therefore was busy with her phone while Hop and you discussed the plans for the next few days. Because there was so much to see in Wyndon, you had decided to spend more than just one day here but now, you needed to figure out which places you actually wanted to visit. Originally, you had planned to skip the history museums and just visit the castle. As far as you knew, there was a temporary exhibition about Galar's history and the royal family, so it should be enough to go there instead of spending hours in different museums.

“It would be a waste of time to travel all the way to Wyndon and then not even visit the castle,” you said and took a sip from your coffee. Next to you, Hop nodded. “Yeah, right. I mean, our teachers told us so much about it that I really want to see it. I bet it's absolutely impressive.”

“True,” you replied. Since Wyndon's council spent tons of money every year to preserve the castle, you were sure that it was still as stunning as in the past when the royal family had lived there. You had caught a glimpse of it when you entered the city. It was located on a hill a few kilometers away from Wyndon, surrounded by a thick palace wall and a few tall trees that towered over the building.

Across the table, Gloria let out a dreamy sigh. “Don't forget that we need to pay the prince a courtesy visit too.”

Right, the prince. You had almost forgotten about him and the stupid legend that surrounded the statue in a nearby park. To you, it still was incomprehensible that there were a lot of people out there who believed that the prince had been turned into stone a long time ago but the fact that they were convinced that his soulmate would be able to break the curse was far more idiotic.

“Really?” you asked, barely containing yourself from rolling your eyes. You knew that Gloria was a hopeless romantic and that she loved stories like that but up to this point you hadn't expected her to be so passionate about it. “You know that it's just a story someone made up to attract tourists, right? There's nothing magical about that statue.”

You hadn't planned to sound so hostile and when you realized that both Hop and Gloria eyed you curiously, you took a deep breath and added, “I'm sorry but you know that I don't believe in stuff like that, all magic aside.”

“I don't think it's true either,” Hop tossed in. “But who says that it's impossible? It's proven that there were powerful sorcerers in Galar a long time ago, so who knows?”

Gloria beamed at her boyfriend, obviously happy about the fact that he sided with her. “See, (Y/N), even Hop wants to see the statue.”

You held back a sigh. There was no reason for behaving like that, you knew that, but a part of you wanted to refuse to visit the statue so bad that you almost felt like you were going crazy. You had no idea why you disliked Gloria's idea so much and yet, you couldn't help but try to find an excuse why you didn't want to join them.

The next second, you scolded yourself in your thoughts. You were acting like a child; it made absolutely no sense that you wanted to stay here while your best friends went to see the statue – it had been your idea to travel to Wyndon, after all.

“Okay,” you finally said and tried to give both Hop and Gloria a smile. “Let's go.”

*

It didn't take you long to arrive at the small park where the statue was located. Only fifteen minutes away from the old town of Wyndon, and still you felt like you had just entered a fairytale world. Winding paths, carefully arranged and yet untamed flowerbeds, the branches of giant weeping willows hanging over ponds that were covered with water lilies. And somewhere in between all of that – the statue.

The history books told that the enchanted prince's sister Carlina had built the park as his final resting place after he disappeared because he had always loved to be surrounded by beautiful things. You weren't too sure about that but even you had to admit that the park was one of the loveliest things you had ever seen. The only thing that disturbed the peace was the massive amount of tourists. They were everywhere, chatting with each other and taking quick snapshots of their surroundings to show them to their friends and family at home. Some of them were already rushing to the center of the park to see the famous statue, their phones and cameras ready.

Once again, you sighed quietly. You weren’t too fond of overly crowded places like this but since you didn’t want to spoil the party, you forced yourself to smile at Gloria when she appeared next to you. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked in a hushed tone.

You nodded. “Yeah. I just wish there were less people here.”

“I know,” she sighed and rolled her eyes. “It will take forever til we can take some selfies with the statue. But I really want to see if the story is true, so… come one, let’s go. We have to hurry if we don’t want to wait for hours.” With that, Gloria linked arms with you and smiled. “Ready to go?”

You let her drag you along without complaining, especially since you knew that it would be useless to talk back to her at this point. When it came to things like that, Gloria always got her way, no matter what others told her, and while you usually admired her for her willpower, you weren’t sure what to think about it in moments like this.

As you followed her through the park, occasionally admiring your surroundings, you found yourself thinking about the legend again. You knew that magic existed in this world and that there had been people who were able to cast powerful spells but still, you couldn’t imagine that the rumors about the statue were true. Even if someone actually managed to turn the prince into stone, it was absolutely impossible that he was still alive after all these years. The whole story about his soulmate redeeming him was just something that people made up to attract more tourists. And apparently, it worked pretty well: hopeless romantics came from all over the country to see if they were the one to save the prince.

And then, the statue appeared in front of you. It was smaller than you had expected, and the material looked oddly similar to withered marble, not actual stone. The expression on his face was hard to read but his posture was easier to understand. He was on his knees, his right arm outstretched, as if he had tried to reach for someone to help him, and you suddenly felt a lump in your throat. You hadn’t expected to feel sorry for him.

Don’t be stupid, (Y/N), you told yourself quietly, it’s just a statue. There’s no need to be sorry.

But there was another feeling too. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it but you couldn’t deny that you felt something else than pity… a strange kind of satisfaction you couldn’t explain. A moment later, a thought that definitely wasn’t yours crossed your mind. He got what he deserved.

You shook your head in confusion; then you brought your attention back to the statue. Two girls were posing next to the prince; one wrapped her arms around him and the other one rested her head on his stony shoulder as another girl quickly took some pictures of them.

Next to you, Hop huffed and nudged you with his elbow. “Wanna bet that they thought something would happen?”

“Everyone here thinks that something is going to happen when the right person touches him,” you answered drily. “But hey, what do I care.”

“Shh,” Gloria interrupted you. “You’re way too pessimistic today, (Y/N).”

“You’re next,” you said. Not exactly the answer she was expecting, you could see that in her eyes, but thankfully, she turned away nevertheless and made her way towards the statue as soon as the other girls left. She patted the prince’s head. “Hey there.”

Hop laughed. “Ready?”

“Yep!” She threw herself into a pose, then into another one and in the end, she even got to her knees to act like she was pressing a kiss to the statue’s cheek. Then, she winked at you. “Wanna try it too, (Y/N)?”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to take a photo.”

“Of course you do! Come on, it’s fun.”

“It could be a nice memory,” Hop said. You raised your eyebrows. “Really? You’re stabbing me in the back?”

“It’s just a photo,” he added, pretending he didn’t hear your interjection. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he gently shoved you forward. Gloria quickly grabbed your arm before you could move backwards again and poked you in the ribs. “Just one photo, please.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, okay. But I don’t want to see that anywhere on social media, do you understand?”

She nodded, already making her way back to Hop and pulling her camera out of her backpack. “Don’t just stand there,” she said. “Put your arm around him or something like that.”

With a forced smile, you put your hand on the statue’s shoulder.

The camera clicked; you felt something crumble right underneath your fingers, and suddenly it was not longer stone you were touching but soft fabric. The next thing you knew was that someone stumbled right into your arms, dragging you to the ground with them.

Next / Masterlist

[chaptersofnow]

Twin children of Rarity

Majesty and Vanity!

bios under the cut

Name:  Majesty Nickname(s): Jes, Jessie, May, Curly (mom) Age: 24 Pronouns: she/her Identity: Cis Lesbian crush/relationship: soft on Happy Daze Parents: Rarity Siblings: Vanity (twins)

Special Talent: Crafting Jewerly Occupation: Jeweler, Store Owner, Element Location: Rarities Boutique Chapter of now (element of harmony): Symbol of Devotion Artifact: Majesty's Anklet

Likes: clean spaces, beautiful insects, a nice dinner, spending time with friends Dislikes: hurting others, show offs, rain, hikes

Bio: One of Rarity's Twin children. She and Vanity were best friends growing up, she never realized Vanity had made up this ‘competition’ in his head over who was the best sibling. Unluckily for Majesty she often fell into these schemes due to her competitive nature. she is a people pleaser, especially to her mom. she will do whatever she can to get her approval and often is the winner of the praise.

Rarity loves her kids equally and always made sure Vanity wasn’t left out, but this didn’t stop vanity from seeing Majesty’s victories and accomplishments. she was friendly and talented and had many friends.

shes dear and very close friends with pinkie and Aj’s kid Splat. despite her composed lady like nature shes also good friends with Luna’s trouble making kids Loser weep and Finders keeper. she is also close to she very nice and keeps in touch with Vanity’s only friend Cloudleap. which this annoys Vanity a good bit.

Majesty graduated from school early, annoying Vanity who was having to take summer classes. She is currently a Jeweler in Cantorlot having opened her own store there at a young age of 21, Annoying Vanity the kid who is still living with mom. And now she has been named an Chapter of Now (the new element of harmony) being named the Chapter of Devotion,, the nail in the coffin that is Vanity’s ego.

she in almost every way has followed in her mothers hoof steps and at the same time is making her own mark and name on the world.

Majesty is a good person and tries her best to be there for others. but often at a fault ends up not being able to see all the sides to how others are feeling. such as not seeing her brothers jealously. she tends to look at the positive side of things to a fault where she blind sights herself. As an Element she was there when they now Chapters of Now saved the Princess Ordomia who was turned into Queen Erroria by the Darkness hidden inside her. When they saved Ordomia they were granted the abilities to use the elements. Majesty was named the Symbol of Devotion, she is a pony who will always be there for her friends and everyone else. she will stick by peoples side and be there for all they need. she is lucky to have opened a store in cantorlot as now the Chapters of Now have been permanently moved to cantorlot to be trained to hone their skills for whatever darkness may bring their way. she has been mainly trained by Rainbow dash the old element of Loyalty while receiving visits from Flash Magnus who now runs with the cantorlot guards.

fun random fact of her character:

Once while spending the night at her friend Bunny Hop’s and Twinkle Wish house (Trixie and Starlights kids) she got gum stuck in her hair and the kids and trixie in a panicked tried to cut it out themselves, failed miserably and gave majesty a terrible hair cut.

Majesty has had a fear of cutting her hair since and has gone to only get 3 people cut her hair: her hair stylist Coco Butter, friend and fellow element Voyage, and her mother Rarity

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Name:  Vanity Mirror Nickname(s): Age: 22 Pronouns: He/Him Identity: Nonbinary Gay man crush/relationship: mmm i mean i guess Cloudleap isn't too bad looking.. SHUT UP! Parents: Rarity Siblings: Majesty (twins)

Special Talent: Designing, sewing, drawing Occupation: Clothing designer Location: Rarities Boutique

Likes: coffee, down times with cloudleap, makeup, putting makeup on cloudleap, spa days Dislikes: 'perfect ponies', rain, perfume

Bio: One of Rarities Twin children Vanity mirror, or just Vanity as he refuses to acknowledge his full name is the son of Rarity. He's been somewhat of a brat since fillyhood but usually directing his snarky comments towards ponies who were usually deserving of it. He was best friends with his sister Majesty and Cloudleap. As they got older Majesty became the perfect daughter who opened her own jewelry store in Cantorlot, has tons of friends and is now the Element of Loyalty. While Vanity was still living with Rarity with an artist block frustrated with the work he's doing and constantly berating strangers for doing small shit like standing in line too long thinking of what their going to order or just telling him 'he looks tired'. He's grown to hate his sister and the two barely talk beyond when they have to. Which lucky for Majesty she lives a few towns over and can avoid her terrible brothers mean comments. Cloudleap and Vanity are still bestfriends as Cloudleap is the only one who seems to put up with Vanity anymore (excluding Rarity) and Cloudleap lives with his mothers in their cottage away from others so he doesn't have many friends beyond Vanity (plus not to mention that most others avoid cloudleap because of Vanity's known temper) Vanity knows he's a jerk and kinda treat it as a quirky personality, the only times he ever truely feels bad about the way he behaves is when he see's the way Cloudleap or his mom looks at him. Vanity feels like his life is a spiral downward and he struggles to look at the good things he has. He not a great person but Cloudleap is one of his biggest supporter and helps to point him in the right direction. Vanity has recently been looking into a job in Manehatten, and suddenly moving their to take on a gig as a clothing designer there. He didn't tell Cloudleap and it's kinda broken the pegasus's heart. Rarity calls often to check on him and Vanity tells her everything is great, but he's lying as he stressed up keeping up with everyone else and isnt happy with his work. He would never admit that, or that he defiantly moved her in hopes of trying to be equal to Majesty or make his mom proud. He wants to walk in Rarity's hoofsteps so bad.