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jinwoosungs · 3 days

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{ 167 }

peaches.

husband!jinwoo sung x wife!fem.reader

{ i get the feeling, so i'm sure | hand in my hand because i'm yours | i can't, i can't pretend, i can't ignore you're right for me | don't think you wanna know just where i’ve been, oh… }

when you first married your husband all those years ago, you didn’t think that your life would turn into something extraordinary-

almost too extraordinary.

of course, jinwoo sung had always been the sweetest, most kindest man alive. upon meeting you in college, he had stolen your heart with that mysterious smile and strange, glowing eyes of his. the way his soft ebony locks of hair fell across his features along with the way his full lips was turned up in a sheepish grin was enough to steal your heart instantly.

when the man began courting you was when you realized that your lover could do things that many normal people couldn’t do.

for starters, he had a strange, dark aura that constantly surrounded him. those wispy shadows would catch your attention, and before your gaze could follow them for too long, jinwoo would grab your chin and distract you with a kiss-

(which unfortunately for you, worked every time.)

the more you spent your time with him, the more you began to realize that those same wisps that exuded from his form would ultimately surround you as well. you recall the first night you had seen them after working a late shift at the diner that was your job during that time. once you had clocked out and stepped into the cold, night air, you swore you saw something shift within your shadow. curious as to what it was, you step closer to one of the streetlights, hoping that it would further accentuate your shadow-

only to nearly scream when you saw what looked like five pairs of glowing, purple eyes looking back at you. after the realization, you gasped and took a step back, suddenly finding yourself in someone’s arms, jinwoo’s happy voice whispering within your ear.

“hello, my beloved treasure. are you ready to go home?”

your head was spinning, looking at him, then back at your shadow to see it return back to its slender shape, glowing eyes all gone as your head began to spin. swallowing thickly, you turn around to hide your face within his chest.

“hm, what’s wrong, sarang?”

“it’s nothing.”

maybe you were just tired, that’s all. you didn’t want to worry jinwoo and tell him how you saw glowing, purple eyes staring back at you.

perhaps you should take his advice and stop working such late shifts after all?

instead, you ignored those feelings of suspicion, simply cuddling closer to jinwoo as he walked back with you to your shared apartment (completely missing his sigh of relief when you didn’t bring up his soldiers seen in your shadow.)

you didn’t know why you ignored all the strangeness surrounding your beloved boyfriend, but perhaps it was due to the fact that he was such a walking green flag that you truly didn’t care nor mind.

ultimately, he was the best thing that ever happened to you, and who were you to give him up so easily?

after years spent dating, jinwoo finally proposes to you at the ripe age of 27, with you accepting his proposal within seconds. you recall basking in his sweet kisses before proceeding to make love with him the night of his proposal, further cementing your promises of forever with him.

after your marriage, you didn’t think of such weirdness ever again… choosing to simply ignore the shadowy wisps as you correctly guessed that they were meant to protect you-

however, it all reached a boiling point when your son, suho, reached his first birthday and began floating across the dining room table. your eyes go wide, seeing him glowing as the shadowy wisps surrounded your baby boy. he had gotten upset when you didn’t let him eat his birthday cake. one moment you were telling suho to wait for his papa, and the next he was floating above you with pieces of his cake clutched tightly within his tiny grasps.

jinwoo told you he had some work to do at the station, but you were too panicked to wait for him to come home tonight. in your anxious state, you called him right away, feeling grateful that he answers on the second ring.

“hello love-“

“jinwoo…! suho is… he’s floating and the shadows are trying to help him down… but he’s not coming down!”

you follow your child in hopes of catching him if he ever decided to come down, hearing jinwoo shift around a bit on the other line.

“don’t worry, sarang… i told you that i know how to fly, too, right?” amusement was heard in his voice, and you felt a sense of pure annoyance flooding your veins.

“you most certainly have not told me such things! and i expect a full explanation when you come home!”

“wait, my love-“

“and i mean everything, jinwoo sung!”

you hang up the call quickly, watching as suho took a nose dive back into your arms. filled with a sense of relief, you felt your son smear his cake all over your blouse and take a step back-

only to detect the faint scent of your husband’s cologne as his powerful arms were felt wrapped around you.

“how do you manage to do that?” you hiss at him, eyes weakly glaring at him when he holds you even tighter to his chest. again, he had appeared when you needed him the most.

“later, my love… i’ll tell you later… first, let’s celebrate our suho’s precious birthday.”

“bah!!!” suho’s eager cries for his father makes your heart melt, easing your anger just the tiniest bit. you pout while transferring suho into jinwoo’s arms, snickering when your son manages to smear even more bits of frosting and cake against his turtleneck sweater.

the next few hours were spent with you finishing up dinner and celebrating suho’s first birthday with his lopsided cake. never wishing to remain too far away from you or suho, jinwoo settles your form on his lap while you held on to suho, cleaning the crumbs of his cake off of his mouth as your husband cuddled close to you and your son.

when nightfall came and jinwoo helped put suho to bed in his crib, you stayed close by with your arms crossed over your chest. when he shuts suho’s door, his solemn, grey eyes meet with your gaze. you gesture at him to follow you out into the balcony, and he does so while wrapping a hand around your waist.

you slide open the glass door and close it, speaking in hushed tones so as to not disturb your neighbors. “i turned a blind eye to many things when it comes to you jinwoo… solely because i love you so damn much.”

he hums, holding you tightly in his embrace while momentarily looking at the skies.

“from shadows that seem to surround me to your strange glowing eyes-“

“we have a history together, my love.” jinwoo interrupts you, not looking away from the sky.

his words make you look up at him. “obviously, we do. we’ve been together since the start of college.”

“no… before that. way before that.”

taking advantage of his strength, he turns you around so that you were now facing him. his eyes glow that same, startling hue as his hands gripped at your shoulders tightly. “if you wish to know the truth, the whole truth, then say the word. i’m no longer the coward i once was… i’m certain i can keep you by my side regardless of what happens.”

you let out a shaky breath before giving him a nod as your final answer.

he brings you closer to him now, surrounding you within his powerful embrace as he kisses you fully on the lips. the shadows dance around you once more, as you saw a faint glow surrounding your form from beneath your closed eyelids-

and that single action alone was enough to pull the curtain away from your very memories.

there were gates and hunters… monarchs and monsters that threatened to destroy all of humanity…

and there was you and jinwoo…

a hunter with his healer…

all at once, you felt your vivid memories returning back to you, the onslaught of visions being too much to bear that you had a hard time discerning all of them. you end up falling against jinwoo, his arms being wrapped around you in a comforting manner as he prevented you from slumping against the ground.

your head was pounding, yet despite the pain, you manage to look up at him, seeing jinwoo with his eyes clenched shut as tears streamed down his face.

“i’ve been so alone- i’ve kept this burden of mine a secret for so long, and this may be selfish of me, but- i’m truly so happy that you know.”

you shake your head and push through the pain, leaning up to kiss him deeply as he delves his fingers into your hair. as the full moon shone brightly against your entangled forms, you knew that jinwoo had always been your soulmate from the start.

as you spend the following years in marital bliss, you gave suho a little sister named sera, a precious little girl who held both yours and jinwoo’s features while having your eyes. even at such a young age, suho swore to protect his little sister while allowing jinwoo’s shadow soldiers to surround both of them.

yet there was a growing concern between you and jinwoo when it came to your children. after all, jinwoo wanted both suho and sera to live a relatively normal and peaceful life, forcing him to lock away their memories pertaining to the powerful nature of their father (a power that they were sure to inherit someday.)

after jinwoo had erased your children’s memories, you spent the night in your children’s room comforting them, with beru crying while clutching on tightly to suho’s drawing depicting beru holding hands with both him and sera. as the former ant king leaves the room, you whisper to jinwoo.

“will you leave them in the dark forever?”

he shakes his head, bringing you into his embrace while pressing a kiss against your hair. “no, not forever. they’re both still too young… and i’d like to give the fruits of our love some happiness… after all, being children of the shadow monarch is no easy burden to bear…”

you hum in agreement, moving your head so that you could meet his lips in a searing kiss. regardless of what the future would bring, you swore to always remain by jinwoo’s side, all while protecting and raising your children…

“mom, if you keep cutting the cucumbers too much, it’ll be like baby food.”

you snap out of your reveries just then, looking down to see a 10-year old sera looking up at you with an innocent expression. you giggle and pick up the slender girl, allowing her to sit on the counter as you placed the cut cucumbers into a bowl for tonight’s kimchi.

“thank you for helping your mama.” you smile and brush your lips against your daughter’s forehead, earning a giggle from her.

“mama, where’s oppa…? it’s getting late.”

you purse your lips, looking up at the clock to see that it was 6:45pm… sera was right. usually suho would come home from school at around 3pm with your husband joining later around 8 to 9pm.

“my queen, do not fret, for your husband and young monarch are here…” tusk whispers in your ear, making your eyes widen in response.

as if on cue, the door was heard opening, with jinwoo carrying an unconscious suho in his arms.

“oppa!” sera calls out to her brother, jumping off the counter to meet with her father, “papa, is he okay? is oppa hurt?!”

jinwoo chuckles, ruffling his daughter’s hair with a fondness. “your oppa is fine, he just has a little headache. how about you keep him company until he feels better?”

sera gives him a determined nod, following jinwoo into suho’s room when you decide to put all of the ingredients for tonight’s dinner back into the fridge.

after all, jinwoo had a lot of explaining to do.

while waiting for jinwoo’s return, you poured him an ice cold glass of lemonade, filling it to the brim and offering it to him when you felt his arms suddenly encircle around your waist a couple of minutes later.

“thanks, honey…”

you face him, watching him drain the entire glass within seconds.

“where’s sera?”

“staying by her brother’s side until he wakes up. i told her to keep a close watch on him, he should feel better when dinner’s ready.”

you nod and lean against the kitchen sink. “and… just what did you do?”

you take a moment to admire him, feeling a sense of womanly pride filling you at the fact that he was your husband. despite how it was clear that jinwoo had aged, with slight wrinkles against the corner of his eyes and corner of his lips, he still looked as handsome as the day you first met him-

perhaps even handsomer than before.

settling the empty glass to the side, he wraps his arms around your back. “i was testing him, to see if he was ready to fully inherit my abilities. i even made a system for him to help level up as well.”

you hum and sway back and forth in his arms. “and…?”

jinwoo scoffs, “he is far from ready… filled with overconfidence and a cockiness that’s seen in all teenagers his age. suho has been too spoiled, never once facing the dangers or the fear of death… and such inexperience could lead to his downfall.”

your husband’s words manage to earn a laugh from you. “weren’t you just as cocky back then, too?”

jinwoo rolls his eyes, playfully taking your hand before gently biting down against your fingertip. “there’s a difference between fighting to protect what matters and when to stop when victory cannot be achieved. suho has yet to learn that."

he sighs when he sees the concerned look in your eyes, bringing you closer to him as he presses a lingering kiss against your forehead. “i just want him to be able to protect himself and sera if anything were to happen to us… and at the moment, he’s not ready to receive the full gift of my powers just yet.”

you let out a hum and rest your head against his chest. “our babies are growing up so fast… it’s crazy how far our family has come. i trust you and your judgement, jinwoo. because regardless… i’m so happy that i was able to be the mother of your children.”

“and you have no idea how happy i am to be the father of your children.”

after spending a few extra moments sharing kisses, jinwoo smiles down at you while framing at your face with his two hands.

“how about we order some fried chicken with all of our children’s favorite side dishes… as a treat and an apology for scaring our son?”

you giggle and roll your eyes at your husband and his playful smile, feeling your heart become alight with pure love for him-

praying that such bliss with him and your precious kids will last for forever and a day…

{ done being distracted | the one i need is right in my arms | your kisses taste the sweetest with mine | and i’ll be right here with you 'til end of time. }

a.n. - i was so desperate to write for hubby!jinwoo, and i’m so happy at how this turned out 🥹 i apologize for any errors, since i wish to get this posted asap!

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x you #solo leveling x reader #.stories

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 3 days

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edit cus tumblr tweaked out n posted the unfinished draft smh.

sitting in the bus with your fifteen minute now ex boyfriend was not something you expected to happen when you’d gotten ready for your date this morning.

you’re sitting as far away from his as possible, or at least as far as he’ll let you go. because of course shouto todoroki just couldn’t let you have one moment without flashing you his sweet little puppy eyes and kissable little pouted lips, three seats away from you.

your face is practically smushed against the window, intently keeping your eyes fixed on the green grass turning dark with rain while you try to keep your eyes dry. you wonder if it’s your fault, if you did something.

more people start coming in, trying to find shelter from the rain. the more people come in the louder it gets, they’re so loud, he’s so loud. he isn’t doing anything but staring at you, but it’s so intense it almost sounds loud. you feel it in the beat of your ears and the beat of your heart, you focus on the rain droplets bouncing off the pavement outside to desperately keep from crying.

you know shouto doesn’t have to take the bus, his dad could probably get someone to pick him up, he’d only made it a habit of taking the bus with you so you could spend more time together. you think maybe he shouldn’t have, it’s his fault, he spent more time with you then he should’ve and somehow that brought him to sit you down on a random park bench, grip on your hand still firm as he told you he thinks it’d be better if you didn’t see each other anymore.

as if you could just stop seeing him, fucking idiot. you’re in the same class, have the same friends, you see him in your favorite manga and the website you read your early leaks on that you shared with him, you see him in your notes because he’d write them down for you when you were sick to bring them to your dorm, you see him in your favorite snacks because you make it a habit of having him guess the flavor of the skittles you’re sharing.

seriously, what a moron. who does he think he is, the love of your life ?!

well, you sure thought he was.

you can’t bear it anymore, this feels like actual torture and you could honestly give less of a shit about how dramatic you sounded. this is unbearable, it’s suffocating feeling those deep colored eyes constantly on you, reaching out and begging and pleading for something you cannot and will not give more of to him.

this isn’t your stop, but it’s close. you can walk the rest of the way. screw the rain and screw him.

you quietly apologize to the people you’re pushing past, though they can barely hear you as you try to keep your wobbly voice even. when you pass by a group of people the start hissing and murmuring behind you and you think you weren’t being loud enough until you realize that of course he’d followed you off as soon as you got off. ever uncaring of the people around him except you know that’s not true. you know shouto cares, he’s kind, but you thought he cared about you and he apparently didn’t, so you trudge forwards with teeth clenched and hands tightened into fists. to desperately keep from crying.

why does he care so much, why did he follow you in the bus and now out of it ? couldn’t he just let you be alone ?? he’s the one who broke it off.

but you’re sure you’re the one who did something, how could he have ? your shouto’s perfect, the sweetest boy in the whole word. teeth clenched tighter and tighter, to keep from crying.

he calls for you, and then again louder over the rain, he won’t let you drown him out. of course he won’t. not when he calls for you again, a cool hand wrapping around your wrist this time. you want to melt despite the chill, but instead you boil ripping your hand out of his grip.

“just go home ! why’d you follow me out here ?!” his eyes are wide and so sad, you’d never raised your voice at him before even during your rare arguments.

“this isn’t your stop..” he tries to reason, voice quietly drifting through the air, the rain hits the pavement and his hair is getting wetter. he’s so handsome, he always is. you want to kiss him and you hate yourself for it.

“yeah, i noticed that too. did that on purpose if you couldn’t tell, which you obviously didn’t.” you’re being mean, you’re spitting everything at him to get him to just fuck off. but of course he won’t, because your shouto is kind. and he reaches out for you again only for you to back away from him.

“i’m sorry.”

“just leave me alone ! why can’t you just leave me alone ?!” you ask him and yourself and anyone who’s listening. you sob when he slowly, ever so softly wraps his arms around you and you push at him and push and push and push him away but he never backs off, he never leaves you alone. not when he’s everywhere. with the smell of his cologne and the softness of his lips on your forehead and the softness of his clothes as he pleads, he’s so sorry he says. but you don’t know why. he’s the one who broke it off right ?

“is it me ?” you whimper, he immediately shushes you but you continue “was it something i did ?”

“no, no it’s not you—it could never be you, love.” his voice is even, or it’s trying to be, you can tell he’s having a hard time with how tightly he’s holding onto you. like you won’t hear him out if he doesn’t keep you close, it’s funny because you’d hear him out even if he was trying to convince you the earth was shaped like a rectangle, hilarious even.

your heart bleeds for him, despite it being his fault your heart is hurting in the first place.

"it's just…better that way" is what he'd managed to spit out. "but listen—look at me." he grabs your cheeks, pulling your face up to look into his unwavering pretty bicolored eyes. he presses the sweetest, gentlest kiss to your lips, you don't think anyone would love you enough to kiss you like this ever again, and the tears keep flowing because you don't think you'd want to be loved like this by anyone other than him. and it makes you press back against him when he kisses you again, and again

" i love you, i do. and it's not you." he reaffirms again, because he knows you're thinking about it

"it isn't you. i love you, angel." he babbles over and over against your lips. "you know i love you, yeah ?" and you want to say you don't, but the shine in his wet eyes tells you everything you already knew, and you kiss him again, and again. his hands, cooling and so invitingly warm still firm against your cheeks.

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lovelybrooke · 2 days

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Omg with the platonic yan Lilia do you think you’d be able to write some sort of scenario with him and yuu/reader 👀 you got me hooked on the idea of him latching onto yuu like some sort of protective parent barely giving them any room to breathe because they’re magicless and need the utmost protection at all times

I love papa Lilia, it's just so him. This takes place around the end of book 5, but isn't exactly one to one, so still spoiler warning. Also hints of yandere Malleus but he isn't in this fic.

masterlist

---

Your head hurts, in fact your entire body hurts. But for some reason, everything around you felt soft, and your entire body felt warm and fuzzy.

It takes a while for you to get your eyes open, but once you do you realize you aren't where you're supposed to be, and your heart drops. Your eyes shoot open, peering around the unfamiliar room. It was slightly dark, but you could still see the mess cluttering the room. You slowly try to sit up as you hear someone enter the room, it was Lilia, a bowl in hand and a smile on his face.

"Oh dear, lay back down, you should be resting." He lightly scolds you, his tone closer to teasing than anything. He takes a seat at a chair next to you, placing the bowl down on a nearby desk, assumingly to let the contents cool.

"Where am I...why am I here?" You ask, ignoring his previous request for you to lay down, you sit up more, trying not to wince in pain.

Lilia's smile doesn't leave his face "Malleus called me regarding the Schoenheit boy's overblot. You were hurt pretty badly." He says as he looks you over once more, moving off the chair to check your temperature by placing a hand on your forehead. You were terribly confused, Lilia could tell, causing him to giggle. "There is no need to worry, not any more." He turns to grab the bowl, now much cooler, pointing a spoon in your face.

"Say ahh--" You questioned whether or not to open your mouth, knowing how Lilia's food taste, but he didn't look like he would take no for an answer. Apprehensively, you let Lilia move the spoon into your mouth and, surprisingly, it tastes great. Lilia must've sensed your shock, laughing at your widened eyes.

"Did you make this?" You asked as you took another bite. Lilia shakes his head.

"No, the boy's did, they knew Malleus was terribly worried for you." He says, his smile becoming more soft at the mention of Silver and Sebek. It made you strangely warm to know that Malleus was worried for you, but you really didn't want to wrap them up in this overblot business.

"I'm sorry for worrying you all." You say with guilt in your voice, though Lilia didn’t look too concerned, instead choosing to take the now empty bowl and place it back on the table, smoothing out the blanket covering you afterwards.

"It's no problem at all dear, I'm just glad you're safe." He only mentioned himself, you realized, but it was probably an accident. "The Schoenheit boy and I are gonna have a long chat about controlling our emotions once you're settled back in and resting."

Your gape slightly at his words, shaking your head "wait--you don't have to do that--I'm fine I promise!" You attempt to reason with him, which only caused him to shoo you, motioning for you to lay back down.

"Don't worry, he'll be fine," He pats your head as it makes contact with the pillow behind you. "Honestly, I'm the least of his worries." You don't know what he means by that, but judging by the look in his eyes you don't think you wanted to. You couldn't even think too much about it, your eyes closing slowly as you drifted off back to sleep.

"Sleep well, my dear."

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #yandere twst #twst

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dulcesiabits · 14 hours

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the birds weep for you.

summary: what does it mean for a bird to live in a cage?

notes: 1.9k words, author's notes, power play, unhealthy/complicated relationships, character + relationship study

The bird flits against the rafters uselessly, wings beating in an eternal circle against the roof. Its small beak lets out distressed chirps, a language lost to human ears. The passing guests glance at it and then pass on, even as it spins uselessly, desperate for an escape.

“What should we do about that bird, sir? I propose we should capture it and then let it out the window. If it keeps going, it’ll tire itself to death,” you say, as cool and unflappable as ever.

“No. It won’t survive if we just let it go.”

“So what do you think we should do?”

“Let’s keep it with us,” Sunday says.

You nod. “I’ll have someone prepare suitable bedding, food and water for it, then. But…”

“Yes?”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea? It’s a wild bird. It might not be used to living in captivity.”

“It’ll get used to it once it gets shelter and consistent meals,” Sunday says. “That’s a much better fate for it.”

Your mouth turns in a slight, unconscious frown, as if that wrinkle on your face houses all your doubts ready to fly loose, but all you do is say, “All right, sir.”

The soft tread of your steps echo behind him, but Sunday can’t look away, his arms clasped behind his back. The bird is still seeking, just like the rest of the hotel residents, a paradise of its own.

ii.

In the time since Sunday has taken over the Oak Family, he has not once replaced his secretary.

It’s convenient, for one thing, because you’ve worked for him for so long and training someone else would be arduous. And he also has a fondness for your diligence and work ethic, both of which will be difficult to replace. The two of you work well, and he has no professional complaints to lodge against you.

No, the only complaint he has isn’t a complaint so much as an observation: it’s the way you look at him, the flat mask you level at his face.

At first, Sunday thought it housed your hatred, simmering beneath the surface. He could deal with dissent. But you didn’t act as one would towards someone they hated. Perhaps you’re hiding your appreciation of him, then, out of some sense of embarrassment or professionalism. Also not out of place, considering how the rest of his employees praise his direction and skill.

But the more time he spends with you, the more he realizes neither are true.

What you really look at him with is apathy, a carefully curated distance. You neither fawn nor condemn him, not like your contemporaries. All you do is do what he asks of you, no more and no less, and let no judgment cloud your gaze.

He knows this because you unfurl jokes and levy smiles at your coworkers, speak in more casual tones and quips. But none of that warmth is ever directed towards him.

(And this is the more selfish reason Sunday keeps you close: what will make that mask of your crack? How can he peel back all of your layers until he can feverishly dig his hands into your soft, vulnerable parts? Reading and understanding people is easy: you’re the only one who escapes interpretation).

You’re an excellent secretary, he tells others. He has no complaints over your conduct, and he hopes to work with you for a long time.

(Sometimes, you look at him like you know him. Know his little games, his false smiles, his facades. It sends a little thrill through him, the implicit challenge and understanding of your gaze. Until he can finger all the pieces of your cracked facade, there’s no point in letting you go).

iii.

Robin spreads her arms like wings against the sky, looking so free it makes Sunday’s heart ache. “Brother, I think I’m going to leave Penacony.”

“Is that what you want?” he presses, heart pounding.

If there is any hesitation in Robin’s voice, then he’ll leap on it and tug on her doubt until it balloons and he can convince her to stay. But she smiles at him, so sure, so trusting, like she has ever since she was a child, snoring in his arms.

More than anything else in the world, he is her oldest brother first and foremost. To crush her conviction here would be the cruelest thing he could do.

“It is. I want to do what I can to help others, and I can’t just do that within Penacony,” Robin announces.

“I’ll support you, then. Just… be careful.”

“Of course! I’ll write every month, so don’t worry!”

Not worry? What an impossible request. Robin is his little sister, a truth so ancient it’s coded in his DNA and embedded in his bones.

Sunday has been there from the moment she first drew breath, has been her eyes and ears when she was still learning to use hers. His little sister, his one and only surviving family. Even if the world crumbles to ash, she is the one person he cannot lose. He can always rebuild Penacony, but he can never build a new sister.

Robin believes in the good of the world, doesn’t see the same hopelessness and despair, the same hollow faces of the people who flee to Penacony for a refuge. Hope, she seems to think, will always bring the light back to their eyes.

What can Sunday do to understand the world from her eyes? Because maybe, just maybe, the paradise Robin shapes with her song can truly exist.

But the other part of him wonders only this: what can he do to keep Robin safe, even when she’s flying through the galaxy to distant planets he’s never seen, beyond his reach?

(Years later, after Robin has been hit by a stray bullet, Sunday will still wake up in the middle of the night dreaming of her blood, his neck aching from the ghost of a wound he’s never received. He will dream about birds falling out of the sky with broken wings, and he will wonder if there are any just gods in the world).

iv.

Like clockwork, you slide a white mug of coffee across Sunday’s desk, steam rippling across the dark liquid with the movement. You’re always efficient. There’s never a wasted gesture with you.

Maybe he should promote you to a position even closer to him, where the higher paycheck and generous benefits will motivate you and ensure that you feel less inclined to leave. There are innocuous ways to tie you to his side so that leaving him will always be the worse choice.

Sunday balances the cup in his hand, taking a sip as he scans over his paperwork, and pauses, mouth parted in surprise at the sweet tang that cuts through the bitterness.

“What did you put in this?” he asks.

“Sugar. Three cubes of it,” you say.

“I don’t recall saying I wanted sugar in my coffee.”

“That’s because you didn’t,” you say dryly.

“Then why?”

“Well, sir, you only drink black coffee with clients and members of the other Families. But in private, you always add three sugar cubes to your coffee.”

“How… meticulous.”

“It’s my job to know what you need before you do, sir.”

Sunday takes another sip. This time, the sweetness spreads through his mouth like a silent dream.

Here are the irrefutable truths of the world:

The things that fly out of his grasp are too far to protect. He has to keep them close if they are to be safe. Better yet, under his protection, they will never need to fly and risk injury again.

Half-hearted kindness can’t save anyone. If he wants to save everyone, he has to sharpen his kindness into a weapon. That’s the only way to protect those who are weak in a cruel and unfair world.

There is no paradise to be found in this world. The only paradise will be the dream he builds with his own hands, a haven to everyone who needs shelter. True paradise can only be birthed from strict rules and regulations, to guide those who are lost.

It’s his duty to bear the burdens no one else can. Only he is capable of such a feat. To protect paradise, someone must bear the curse of knowledge.

Birds are born alone and will die alone, falling from the sky with no one to hear their cries.

vi.

It’s not love.

It’s not love, because Sunday doesn’t know what such a thing would feel like anymore.

Is it love because he’s known you for so long, because you know his pretenses and stay with him anyways?

Is it love when he wants to bind you to him in such a way that it marks your soul forever, so that even in the next life he will find you again?

Is it love when he constructs the cage of Penacony around you, restricting your movement to his garden, where you can bloom eternally in safety?

Love, or possession, or familiarity, or desperation, or pulling you close until you have no choice but to look at him, or the urge to break your facade and see it glittering on the floor like shards of broken glass. It all means the same thing, at the end of the day.

(Sunday knows better now. If you want to keep a bird safe, sometimes you have to clip their wings to negate the danger of flying first).

vii.

You finger the golden bars of the bird’s cage, fingers trailing slowly along the metal. The bird tilts its head, unruffled. Sunday drinks in your every gesture, committing it to memory.

“It’s no longer skittish,” you murmur.

“Is that such a horrible thing? It’s gotten used to it.”

“But that means it’ll be harder for it to acclimate to the wild.”

“Then we’ll just keep it here forever. It’s infinitely safer here.”

“It’s your bird,” you say blandly. “I’ll follow whatever you decide.”

Sunday could laugh. Those aren’t your true feelings at all, but it’s fascinating to watch the wrinkle form in your brow, the tension of your displeasure. No matter what he says or does, you’ll always choose the path of least resistance, like a bird gliding in the winds of a storm, pulled along just to survive.

“We can name it if you feel bad for it,” he suggests.

“We shouldn’t name it. Then we’ll get attached more than we should.”

“I could name it after you,” he says, watching your face carefully for your reaction. All your little habits, your tiny tells: he knows them all. How can he not, with how long he’s been watching you?

Your eyes are still cold, but your shoulders jerk back just slightly. “That’s not funny, sir. I’m no bird.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” you emphasize. “Now I’m going to finish my paperwork. I’ll report back later.”

You stalk off, and Sunday watches the curve of your back recede into the distance, the ends of your coat fluttering like feathers. A coat that matches his in color, so you’ll always be marked by him in some indelible way.

Sunday raises a hand and presses his fingers lightly against the bars, the metal retaining only the barest heat from your touch.

Inside its cage, the bird chirps. It might have been a lament or a condemnation, or even gratitude. But Sunday will never know for sure, and the bird will never tell him.

#liya writes #honkai star rail #sunday #x reader #honkai star rail x reader #sunday x reader #sunday hsr #sunday hsr x reader #oh its so fucking over for me. he compels me too much hes in my fuckin head!!!

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copperbadge · 18 hours

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Still badgering away at The Chicken Salad War and I did not realize how delighted I was going to be by introducing semi-masc nonbinary Jes Deimos to gallant butch Ylias Lazaar. I don't quite know where their subplot is going to go if anywhere but I feel like it may be somewhere awesome.

"Mr. Lazaar," said a familiar voice, and she turned to see LeFevre at her elbow, looking pleased. "A great success for you, I think."

"Seems to have gone all right, yeah," she agreed. "I heard you were going to crash."

"Alas, I could not -- I ended up invited," he said, grinning.

"And you brought guests?"

"Ah, I didn't mean to bring the royal family down on your head so soon," he said, leaning in. "They are terrible gossips; I should have remembered when I told King Theophile that he would likely share the information. Still, His Grace Gerald is pleased you use his oil and His Grace Michaelis enjoyed the matbucha greatly."

"And you? No constructive criticism?" she asked.

"Not tonight. I have never opened a restaurant myself, but I can understand this is your triumph! And in any case they are small quibbles. I will need to dine here more times before I speak," he replied. Someone tapped him on the arm, and he turned, then nodded at the person standing just behind him -- the one who'd been speaking with the old king a moment before. "Mr. Lazaar, may I present Ser Deimos, who came with His Grace. This is Mr. Lazaar, the chef of the hour. She/her," he added with a smile.

Ser Deimos looked amused. "They/them," they said, holding out a hand. "We're honored to be able to attend -- I don't think we realized when Gerald told us he was going that it was your soft open."

"It's my pleasure. Not everyone gets to feed the royal family on their first night," she replied, bowing over their hand. "And you're an ornament to any dining room."

Deimos looked delighted. "Thank you, that's kind of you to say. If I'd known the food was going to be this good I'd have scared up a party. I have a lot of friends in from out of country at the moment."

"Well, we open reservations tomorrow morning -- but for the royal family, I can set aside a table," Ylias replied.

"Don't, just yet," Deimos said, looking around. "I'm thinking more of a party. Could we rent the restaurant?"

"The whole restaurant?" Ylias asked, blinking. Simon looked smug.

"If not, that's fine -- we'll take the offer of a table -- but my son's graduating next week, and we were thinking of a group dinner the night before. Simon here is catering the night of," they added. "It'll be twenty or thirty people, and some of them have been doubtful that Fons-Askaz could live up to New York, foodwise. Yes, I felt the same," they added, catching Ylias's expression. "The only thing Fons-Askaz can't offer that New York can is the pizza, and only because our Eddie hasn't got the time to open a pizza restaurant."

"I hadn't..." Ylias fumbled slightly. "I'm sorry, we have a catering menu but I hadn't arranged any kind of contract for renting the space. It'd need to be a handshake deal and I couldn't quote a fee off the top of my head."

"Of course, I threw this at you with no warning. Here," they said, reaching into their pocket for a wallet and pulling out a card. "Email or phone is fine. If you can send me a proposal by Sunday, I can make a deposit on Monday. I'm comfortable with an informal deal as long as we have terms written out over email. If you don't feel ready, just let me know -- we'll definitely be back regardless."

"I'll be in touch," Ylias managed. Deimos gave her a bow and a smile, and retreated to their table.

[Then, later]

As they left Plate & Press, full of good food and possibly slightly tipsy, Jes leaned against Michaelis's arm and said, "Holy shit."

He gave them an amused look. "Yes, the food was very good. Nice space, too. I can't remember the last time I had such a pleasant evening out."

"Well, yeah, but I meant the chef," they said. He glanced at them, frowning.

"The Lazaar fellow?"

"Lady, I think. Uncertain, actually. Butch, possibly. She/her but Simon called her Mr. Lazaar."

"I noticed her, but I didn't see anything particularly unusual. Why?"

"I love you to bits but you're hopeless," they said. "You really didn't think she was hot?"

"I don't form opinions about sex appeal, generally," he reminded them. "Present company excepted."

"Well, she is hot in a very specific way -- like you, actually, sort of masculine and chivalrous -- and she called me an ornament to her dining room. I may have had a little moment."

He laughed. "Oh dear, am I going to have to fight a chef for your favors?"

"No, it's just nice to know I still got it."

He kissed the side of their head, affectionate. "You're an ornament wherever you go, but I'll make a note to remind you of it more often. Seems she's making a stir -- Simon likes her also, I think. Sometime soon we're going to have to kick Gregory and Eddie out of the residence for an evening, and I think I'll recommend that place for dinner. Gregory loves Tunisian food and I think Eddie would find a lot to interest him."

"You just want to spend a whole evening cuddling babies," Jes said.

"Joan and the twins all require the benefit of my wisdom on a regular basis," he said. There was a wolf-whistle directed at them from somewhere over their heads; some young wag, out on the second-floor balcony of a small hotel, clearly getting an early start on Pride. She waved a pink-and-blue flag in their direction.

"You can't have him!" Jes called.

"I was whistling at you!" the girl called back.

"I'll take him," her friend offered from the chair next to her.

Michaelis chuckled. "Drink some water, young ladies, or you'll be in no condition for the parade this weekend," he called.

"Vodka's sixty percent water!" someone on another balcony shouted, and someone else yelled for everyone to keep it down, and the discussion went on without them.

#shivadhverse

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thetarttfuldickhead · 2 days

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There was this post a little while back suggesting that Beard gets kicked out by Jane and moves in with Higgins and that’s very narratively satisfying and right, given that Leslie’s the one person daring to tell Beard that his relationship with Jane isn’t, you know, great. However, I’m a Roy & Jamie girl at heart, so I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if Beard instead moved in with his fellow fan of few words, ie one Roy Kent.

Say, for instance, that Roy and Jamie are fucking/dating/what have you and Jamie gets it into his pretty, silly head that they can somehow hide the fact from Beard. Roy tells him stop being an idiot, of course he’s going to know if he’s staying here, only way to keep it from him if you keep away until he finds another place to live, and fuck no, I’m not moving in with you, how the fuck would I explain that, and anyway your fucking headboard would give me a migraine.

Well, Jamie says mulishly, I’m not staying away.

Fine, Roy says, secretly a little relieved. So he’ll know. Big fucking deal.

And in this version of events Roy really is cool with it, because it has to come out sooner or later and he’s not ashamed and it’s not like Beard’s gonna say anything (Roy may or may not be mistaken in this assumption), and anyway, he’s Roy Kent, he does whatever the hell he wants, okay. Only Jamie doesn’t accept that, because he has this strong and somewhat misguided notion that he needs to defend Roy’s honour by not letting anyone suspect he’s fucking his player. So Jamie starts making up increasingly absurd excuses as to why he should show up at Roy’s place like having some work done at my house and Roy was concerned I’d be breathing in poisonous fumes, yeah, so he said I had to come over here and um, Coach, I think I strained my calf today, could you maybe take a look here in the bedroom ‘cause my back hurts too and I need to lay down and yeah, Beard’s eyebrows are not as psychotic as Roy’s but they certainly climb and climb and climb. Later in the evening he just glances at Roy, so, you and Jamie, huh? And Roy shrugs, unconcerned, yeah, and pours himself another cup of tea. He doesn’t tell Jamie that they’ve been made, though; it’s still kind of fun watching the muppet make a fool of himself. Besides, the idea of their encounters being particularly illicit seems to really get Jamie going, so.

Alternatively, Jamie agrees to stay away, and then proceeds to do everything in his power to set Beard up with someone else so that Beard can be happy and move in with his new friend and Jamie can go back to shagging his grumpy old boyfriend all over the house. The attempts are predictably absurd, but also oddly sweet (‘cause Jamie wants the relationship to last, right, so that Beard doesn’t come knocking on Roy’s door again anytime soon, so obviously he needs to find someone properly nice, but it’s hard for him to figure what nice means to someone as odd as Beard).

(These two scenarios work if Keeley’s part of the mix, too, btw. She can either join in Jamie’s antics because she’s a weird girl at heart, or she can be the voice of reason if a voice of reason is what gets you going.)

Or say that Roy and Jamie really are just friends (for the moment, at least) and it’s Roy that gets a little nervous about Beard realizing just how close they are. Like, he’s reluctantly cool with everyone knowing that Jaime is his favourite player (though of course he’d deny it if someone dared say it to his face) or them knowing that Roy spends stupid amounts of time torturing training Jamie, but he’s not quite comfortable having people know that they also just… hang out. That Roy cooks Jamie dinner. Leaves Phoebe with him when Roy’s busy with a coaching crisis. That they watch stupid shit on the telly together, and that Roy doesn’t complain (much) when Jamie curls up to him like a cat. That stuff’s private, all right? So he stops having Jamie over, starts brushing him off, and at first Jamie’s undeterred because if he let Roy’s grumpiness get to him he’d never not be gotten to, but Roy persists and Jamie starts to wilt, hurt and confused. In the end, Beard – wise, all-seeing Beard – fixes Roy with one long stare and notes that there’s nothing wrong with having a friend, Coach. Plenty wrong with being shit to the ones you’ve got, though, and Roy doesn’t even yell fuck he just stands there, stony like, until he jerks a short nod and stalks off to make things up to Jamie.

Anyway, the idea of Beard bearing witness to Roy and/or Jamie being particularly ridiculous about each other is very funny, to me.

(I tried to hunt down that original post because even though I didn’t want to add to it and derail OP’s poignant take with my Roy & Jamie obsession, I still want to credit them for the original idea. Couldn’t find it, however, but please give me a shout if you have a link. Aha! @coachbeards is the original galaxy brain!)

#it's royjamie crack o'clock again #i just like it when one of them is being very silly/very fucked up you know?#they take turns #roy kent #jamie tartt #coach beard #royjamie #roy & jamie #my stuff

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cloudedgalaxies · 2 days

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Two Nights Remain

Leona Kingscholar loves sleep more than anything else in Twisted Wonderland. So he is determined to continue sleeping all through the night when he has to host two freshmen crashing in his dorm for taking a rather stupid deal he had nothing to do with. It wasn't his problem.

Yet for some absurd reason, the three nights that the prefect stays in Savanaclaw, he doesn't get a wink.

Carnivore, Herbivore

(part one) (part two) (part three) (read on AO3)

Word count: 7k | Warning: Yuu has her period

Leona yawned, feeling his eyes droop as the stars started to appear. “Give yourself a break,” he found himself saying, despite how it was almost entertaining watching the herbivore question his life choices over a few measly pieces of paper. “You’re just going to make yourself dead on your feet if you keep goin’.”

“One more page,” Yuu bargained, keeping his eyes glued to the textbook in front of him. Leona couldn’t help but roll his, tail flicking in something he couldn’t quite call annoyance at the prefect’s stubbornness. It was a little vexing, how someone that small and meek could still have enough persistence to almost make Leona wonder how the Dark Mirror didn’t say he could fit in at Savanaclaw.

Then again, maybe he couldn’t. Leona had to rethink that when he caught the scent of blood, stinging his nostrils and making his senses snap to attention. Now where was he hurt? The hints of a scowl started to pull Leona’s lips down, especially when he caught himself trying to look over the herbivore for anything he might be able to see that his uniform didn’t cover. It wasn’t his problem.

“Patch yourself up, at least,” he grumbled, the growl in his voice more directed at himself than his new servant. “I don’t want to be smellin’ your blood all night.”

For some reason, that got the prefect’s attention, a crease appearing in his brow. “You can smell it?” he asked, more curious than anything else. “But I—” and then he stopped, some strange revelation making him freeze and the sickly tang of worry wave off him. “I’ll get right on that.”

His sudden and total attitude change was enough to make Leona raise an eyebrow, but he said nothing as Yuu shot up to dash into his bathroom. He closed the door behind him this time, hopefully learning from last night that it took more than carefully quiet movements to muffle sounds from his ears. Leona just sighed, lacing his fingers behind his head.

In his newfound boredom, he caught himself looking at his second freeloader. How was it that out of the three of them, Grim was the only one asleep? Whatever madness they’d gone through that day had seemed to take a toll on him, if nothing else, because he’d been out like a light the moment his head hit the pillow. Leona decided that he should fix the grave mistake in the world as soon as he could, closing his eyes to doze off, too.

But before he could get very far, the sound of a door tentatively opening caught his ear, pulling him back into consciousness. He almost scowled, but kept his features neutral, trying to feign being asleep when he realized that the prefect was trying to sneak back into his room. He pinned his ears on him, trying to pinpoint just exactly what was happening while his eyes were closed.

What was he doing? What was Leona doing, trying to listen in like some stupid kid at a slumber party? He couldn’t frown, but he could let his tail thump on his mattress, the only outlet he had to express his annoyance. It was so he could make sure the herbivore wasn’t trying to get slick and get away with stealing something, he reasoned with himself. After all the rumors he’d picked up about Yuu’s rather abysmal financial situation, he wouldn’t put it past him to try to make a quick thaumark.

But the prefect wasn’t like that, Leona found himself thinking. Out of everyone in Night Raven College, he would probably pick the herbivore as the most trustworthy student on campus. He was also the most trusting, which got him into many a bad situation like the one that had made him oh-so-kindly become Leona’s servant for two more days. After the big display he’d made out of Leona trying to cheat for the spelldrive tournament, he’d be shocked if he really turned out to be as twisted as—

What was he doing? Leona hissed at himself again, stopping himself mid-thought. He had no business with the prefect whatsoever. None of his problems were Leona’s issue, and he had no reason to care. His tail’s flicking became stronger with his increased irritation, now letting out an audible thud as it hit his bedsheets. Look at all the good rooming with the herbivore did to him after one night, with missed sleep and unnecessary annoyance. He wasn’t looking forward to sharing his dorm with the guy for two more nights.

Then Leona felt him gently touching his shoulder, and it almost made him just leap up and devour him right then and there. He kept to his facade of sleep, willing his tail to stop moving. “Leona,” Yuu called, and something in him stirred at the way he’d said it. His voice was practically a whisper, uttered with fear and worry and something that made Leona think that he was about to shatter.

Fine. He’d just keep bothering him if he ignored him, so Leona let his eyes open again. “You’d better have a real good reason for waking me up,” he growled, before he took in his expression. It made Leona pause just for a moment, and he wondered if maybe he really did have one, when he looked that nervous.

“I’m going to tell you something,” he said, still in that voice that reminded Leona of a terrified songbird, “and I don’t want you to freak out.”

“You’re tellin’ me that?” he couldn’t help but scoff back, even though he felt something strange and cool start to close around his stomach. It got just a little tighter when the prefect bit his bottom lip, glancing around the room as he took in a breath. “Spit it out already.”

He took his hand away, as though he’d only just now remembered that it was still on Leona’s shoulder, and breathed in again. “I’m a girl,” he blurted out, in a forced exhale of a sigh that was just barely words instead of breath.

Out of everything the prefect could have told him, Leona was not expecting it to be that. He blinked, trying to see if this was some sort of joke as his surprise faded. “What.” If this was anyone else, Leona would have thought that they were lying. But the way that Yuu’s face flinched at the unimpressed snarl in his voice made him think again.

And then Leona remembered that moment last night, when something in the air seemed to shimmer and change. Then the pieces suddenly all slotted into place, making everything strange make sense. The oversized uniform, the small wrist, the sound of a cork uncapping…

“You’re serious?” he asked, that snarl noticeably absent from his voice now. Yuu nodded, the faintest dip of the head as he—she—confirmed.

Leona fought the urge to swear.

He sat up now, making the prefect take a step back as he swung his legs to let his feet touch the ground. “The headmage gives me a potion,” she explained, sensing that Leona was about to start asking questions. “I have to take it every night, and it does…something. I’m not really sure what, but it keeps people from finding out the truth.”

To think it even worked on him. It must be some potion, Leona mused with bitterness in his thoughts. “You’re making it all useless right now,” he reminded gruffly, though not unkindly, trying not to think about all the ways that he’d been a complete imbecile to her. “Why tell me?”

She fidgeted with her shirt, and Leona saw that the tips of her ears were burning a furious red. It was extending to the rest of her face, he noticed, which she was trying to hide by tilting her head even farther down than it’d been already. “I-I have a problem,” she mumbled, and the only reason Leona could catch her words was because of the way his ears were fixed on her. “I’m…bleeding.”

It took Leona a moment longer than he wished it had to realize what she meant. Yuu had let her hair fall around her face all the more now, practically concealing herself from his view in either shame or embarrassment, or a cruel combination of the two. “You don’t have anything?” he asked, forcing his voice to lose the growl of frustration it almost had. There was no reason to scare her any more than she already was. Leona found he had no desire to anyway, when she was trying her hardest not to cower now.

He saw Yuu’s hair wave more than he saw her shake her head. “The twins were watching me when I packed. I didn’t want to risk it.” Leona ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out what exactly he felt and who exactly it was directed at. “I’d go buy something, but if you can— can smell it, then…”

“Yeah.” He’d been pretty dense, but there wasn’t a guarantee that everyone in the dorm would be as blockheaded. Leona took one look at the herbivore and sighed. The sharp, bristling scent of fear was sticking to her skin like mud and musk. Even if Leona wasn’t able to smell it, it was obvious to tell that she was a hair’s breadth from trembling.

So much for anything not becoming his problem. “I’ll take care of it,” he told her, standing up to make it clear he meant it. “Sam knows?” Another barely-nod, making him go off how her hair moved more than anything else. Leona felt his tail swish, hesitantly bringing a hand up to lightly touch her shoulder. He hoped it helped to make her not want to bolt as much. At the very least, it didn’t make her want to run more, since she didn’t flinch at it. “Go take a shower. You—” smell like fish guts, he was about to say, then realized that what she smelled like was definitely a sensitive topic right now. “It’ll help,” he decided on instead, gently coaxing her to start walking back towards the bathroom. “I’ll be back when you’re done.”

Yuu nodded, a bit more brave this time as it finally got through to her that Leona wasn’t going to rip her to pieces. “I’m sorry,” she got out, as she took the first few steps with him.

Leona found that he wanted to shred whatever it was that made her sound so fragile when he heard her voice again, still just as timid. Maybe it was him, he realized, the thought making something sour and rancid fill his mouth. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault,” he said, meaning it as much as he could. He stopped when they made it back to the bathroom door, relieved that she seemed at least a little less flighty now. “No one else’ll find out. Take a breath, herbivore.”

She listened for once, filling her lungs with air that would hopefully help to calm her. “Thank you,” she told him, finding enough courage to fix her falling glasses. “Really. Between this and letting us crash here, I— thank you so much.”

He sighed, though it was not exasperated. “You’re not as big a hassle as you think you are,” he answered, trying to convince her that it was true.

And that was how the housewarden of Savanaclaw found himself trying to hastily make it over to the Mystery Shop in the few minutes he had before it closed instead of curled up in his bed. At this time of night, there weren’t many students awake and roaming campus—especially when it seemed as though the vast majority of them had taken a deal with the cephalo-punk, like the fools they were, and were trapped working in the Mostro Lounge.

Leona walked with a scowl on his face and a swishing tail, scaring the handful of students he did end up passing into a silent stupor. Why did the layout of campus make it so that they had to walk so far to get to the Shop? He had never minded it before, but it just made his mood all the more dour now. At least it wasn’t at the very end of the path, like Ramshackle was. Leona was honestly surprised that Yuu was on time to class most days. He wouldn’t have the resolve to wake up as early as she no doubt had to if he wasn’t forced to by Ruggie.

The doors were miraculously unlocked when Leona got to the Mystery Shop, much to his relief. Leona found that he had to take a little moment to calm himself before opening them, quelling his irritation and fixing his expression to not be so immediately hostile. He fought the urge to cringe when the bell rang, announcing his presence to everyone inside—which only seemed to be himself and Sam, thankfully, who peeked his head out from the back when he heard the chime.

“If it isn’t the Kingscholar imp!” he greeted, a disbelieving grin on his face as he saw who had come in so late. “What can I do for you?” Leona didn’t know how he felt about the way his ears swiveled before he’d consciously known they were, confirming without a shadow of a doubt that they really were the only two there. Sam seemed to realize what he was doing, thanks to the way Leona had grown silent just before he’d come to the counter. “You’re my only customer. Just about closed the doors before you came in.”

Good. Leona looked at him with a gaze that didn’t leave any room for arguments, making Sam pause for just a moment from the intensity his emerald eyes burned. “I know about the stuff you keep in stock for the herbivore,” he told him, deciding it was a night where he didn’t feel like mincing his words and dodging the truth. “She needs some of ‘em.”

Any reluctance or deception Sam was about to spew on him immediately vanished when he heard the pronoun Leona used. “You found out, huh?” he asked, his smile turning a little sour.

Leona recognized that look instantly. He wouldn’t hesitate to make the housewarden shut up if he needed him to. That unexpected streak of kindness almost surprised him, but it only made his job harder right now. “Quit it. I ain’t telling anyone,” he growled, making Sam raise his hands in a sign of peace.

“Heard about the deal the imp made with Ashengrotto. Looks like she made it over to you, huh?” Leona barely stopped his lip from curling back to reveal fangs that would no doubt make this go faster. But he had to remain civil, if nothing else than to not have to deal with the lecture he’d be in for if he didn’t. “What is it she needs?”

It was then that Leona realized he’d forgotten to ask. What even was there? Did Sam have everything, or just a few select things? It was only after a few seconds that Leona remembered he had to answer the question, when he noticed the way Sam was waiting for a response. His ears flattened to the sides of his head. “She’s swimmin’,” he answered, hoping that was enough of an answer to let him do the rest.

Thankfully, it was. Sam flashed him a thumbs up before ducking into the back room again, leaving Leona to be the sole person in the entire shop. He couldn’t help but run a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs up as he sighed. The silence made him think, both about what had just been revealed to him and how he hadn’t possibly found out before now. He still couldn’t believe how he hadn’t noticed until now, when everything was made so painfully obvious that even a toddler could figure it out. Pieces of memories and overheard conversations ran through his head, only helping to emphasize how foolish he’d been before.

A plastic bag being placed on the counter snapped Leona out of this thoughts, making him look down at it instead of the random wall he had been fixated on. It was already tied shut, making sure that no prying eyes got a glimpse of what was inside. “How much?” he asked, thankful he’d remembered to get his wallet back from Ruggie that evening.

“Nothing. The two of us have an agreement.” Leona’s eyes instantly narrowed, finding his choice of wording all sorts of suspicious when Yuu was already in another soul-sucking deal with a student Sam seemed to take to a bit too much. But he laughed, making Leona’s eyes all the more darker. “It’s nothing shady. You can ask the imp if you’re curious,” he offered, before giving him a grin. “Guess my friends from the shadows were right when they said she’d gotten a new buddy.”

Leona didn’t know what to do at that, much to his dismay. He decided to play his turbulent emotions off as annoyance, flicking his tail as he scowled. “What’s the crow’s role in all this?” he asked, slipping two fingers between the bag’s handles and taking it off the counter and into his hold.

Sam’s grin faltered, much to Leona’s curiosity and true irritation. “He gives her something to hide in plain sight with. That’s all I know, I’m afraid.”

He highly doubted that, but Leona didn’t have time to question him, when he’d already spent enough time here that Yuu would be waiting for him to get back at this point. “Come back soon,” Sam called, as Leona turned on his heels and started back out of the shop. He just let out a sound between a hum and a grunt in reply, halfway out the door already.

The walk back was just as uneventful as the walk there. Leona supposed he’d scared off any students still awake and foolish enough to get in his way, because he made it back to his dorm without any issues, relying on all his useless lessons as a royal to somehow look presentable to those of his dorm that still prowled the halls.

When he finally got back to his room, not sure whether he should scoff or laugh at how Grim was still somehow asleep, Leona thankfully still heard the constant hiss of the shower. He’d gotten back just in time, he realized, because not even a second after he got closer, it shut off. He lifted the hand carrying the bag to rap his knuckles on the door twice, hearing the herbivore make some sort of noise to confirm she’d heard him.

“I have your stuff,” he said, catching the faint hint of something rustling in the bathroom beyond. Maybe he shouldn’t be listening, Leona realized, and he promptly spun his ears away. “It’s by the door. I’m goin’ out to the balcony.”

“Okay,” Yuu called back, muffled through the door and the way that Leona was trying not to hear everything else that went on behind it. “Thank you.” He hummed back, deciding it was better to be quick than to spend more time tempting an unfortunate accident to possibly happen.

Much more noisily than he needed to, Leona walked out to the balcony off his room, resting his elbows on one of the fence posts. He caught the soft noise of the door’s latch unlocking, and fixed his gaze on whichever star caught his eye, staring at it with such intensity he almost thought it was going to go supernova. They were the souls of past kings, he remembered despite himself, recalling the night the royal scholars taught him that. Or at least, that’s what the old prides thought they were, before they ended up learning enough science to understand that they were balls of gas millions of miles away.

Leona had never been taken with the idea of there being souls up in the sky—why would there be, if they didn’t seem to be around to help out those still living? Maybe there were, even despite the evidence proving otherwise. There had been days when Falena seemed especially lucky, in situations that Leona would have been hard pressed to get out of unscathed. He hadn’t been blessed, if his entire past spoke anything about the subject. Perhaps they just thought that Leona was too unremarkable to spend their energy on, when he was only the second-born.

He must have spent more time looking up at the sky than he thought, because the next thing Leona knew, Yuu was at his side, gazing at them right alongside him. “You got everything you need now?” he asked, making her blink and glance up at where he’d started to look at her instead of the night.

“Yes. I took my potion for tonight too, so I should be fine. Thank you again,” she said, for the umpteenth time in the span of one night. Any other time, any other circumstances, Leona would have thought she was trying to stroke his ego. “Sam didn’t make you pay for anything, right?”

“No. Said you had an agreement.” Yuu nodded, looking a little relieved at that. But that only made Leona feel more of the opposite, eyes narrowing. “He isn’t making you do anything weird?” he asked, watching her carefully to see if she would lie. At the very least, he hoped it wasn’t as much work as Crowley seemed to give her.

When Yuu shook her head, he didn’t catch anything to make him think it wasn’t the truth. “I just help out at his shop twice a month to pay for it. They’re regular shifts besides that.” Leona hummed, not entirely sure he believed her anyway. But he supposed that was something he could look into later, when everything had cooled down and it wasn’t way past his bedtime. “If you wanted to ask me about…this, you can,” Yuu told him after a few moments. “You deserve that. I lied to you, after all. And I’m making you share your room with us.”

Had she, though? Leona couldn’t recall a time when the herbivore had explicitly stated that she was a guy. She just went along with the others, and didn’t correct them when they just assumed she was another average student. “Who knows?” he decided to ask, even though she owed him nothing. She didn’t seem to be the type who liked making anything go unpaid, he’d found.

“Just you, Grim, a handful of staff, and a few guys in Heartslabuyl, so far.” It didn’t take much thinking to know who those students were. Leona couldn’t help but frown when he thought of the two froshes in that dorm she ran with knowing, the possibility of her secret getting spilled to half the campus just one idiotic slip-of-the-tongue away. “None of them have said anything to anyone,” Yuu told him, somehow sensing his distaste. “I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it’s been okay up until now.”

Leona hummed, running a hand through his hair. “Jack hasn’t figured it out?” he asked, more musing to himself than a question for Yuu. “Or Ruggie?”

“No. But honestly, I kind of think they suspect something,” she admitted. “As long as they don’t say anything though, it’s fine.” Leona hummed again. He could help make sure of that.

Yuu sighed, the tinge of nerves in her breath. She looked down, and Leona’s eyes followed curiously, watching the way she fiddled with her fingers anxiously. “I hate to— can— am I good now?” Yuu asked, finally getting the words out after a few tries. “You can’t tell anymore, right?”

If anything, Leona was actively trying not to figure that out to not make her revert to the way she’d been before he’d returned. But he stilled, taking in a breath to let his sense of smell kick in. It was a bit of a jolt to realize that she smelled like him, after washing her hair with his stuff and wearing one of his shirts for the past two nights. It was even more of a surprise to find that, for some strange reason, Leona didn’t mind it.

At least it wasn’t the salty tang of the sea and the stench of fish, he decided. “No. Nobody’ll bother you,” he told her, truthfully. Especially not when she was silently protected by the aura of him, the one that he hadn’t even realized he’d given to her until now. Despite it all, Leona realized he didn’t find it in himself to really mind. “Sorry I pointed it out.”

Yuu shrugged, lacing her fingers behind her neck. “It’s better you said something now than half the dorm finding out later.” The prefect let out a sigh much more relieved than her previous one, the musk of stress radiating around her lessening somewhat. “One night left after this,” she mused, giving him a sheepish smile when Leona looked over. It fell flat a moment later as she glanced away again, breathing in deeply to steady the nerves that were starting to wrack even him. “I’m sorry for being such a problem.”

Out of all the things Leona felt, he was surprised it was not annoyance. Especially when the prefect’s still-healing injury was as visible as it could be to him then, as she gazed out at the sky. He just sighed softly, flicking an ear. “Wasn’t ‘cause of you. This time, at least,” he had to add, feeling something light inside him flutter softly when he caught how that made her smile just the smallest bit. “You could stand to cool it a bit, herbivore. The rate you’re goin’, anyone can tell you’re about to burn out.”

He almost frowned at how that made her anxiety spike again, attacking his nose with sharp daggers of it. “Seriously,” Leona continued, watching her carefully as she busied herself with braiding her still-damp hair. “You’re makin’ me stressed just by being next to you. That ain’t an easy thing.”

She looked surprised at that, her eyes widening just a bit as she looked over at him. Leona almost wondered if he should have said that—both for her sake and his. It wasn’t his problem. “I am?” she asked softly, something in her voice making Leona know that there was more than just one question in those two words.

Leona sighed, feeling how his tail swished behind him. He didn’t have the energy to dance around a half-answer or a mostly-lie so late at night. “You’ve got a spine and a brain that isn’t the size of a peanut. I know you do, ‘cause I’ve seen you use them,” he said instead. “Start using ‘em outside of fights, too, and you’ll be fine.”

That made her flush, much to his amusement. “You’ve seen me— In the gardens,” she realized, with a bashful exhale and the pinking of her scarred ear he could see. But then she stopped, looking up at him again with a glint in her eye he almost wanted to call amusement if it wasn’t just curiosity. “You were watching me?”

“When you were causin’ such a racket that you woke me up?” Leona almost chuckled at the way Yuu frowned at him, looking everything like a pouting cub. “Not my fault you decided to duke it out on public property.”

“You could’ve helped,” she huffed, but even as she said that, Leona could tell that she was realizing why he didn’t.

Just in case she was getting to the wrong outcome—what was the wrong outcome? he asked himself—Leona smirked, making something in her starry eyes flicker. “You had it handled,” he told her, enjoying the way that made her unoffended frown deepen. “‘Sides, by the time I could’ve gotten up, it was already over.”

Even now, knowing what he knew, Leona wasn’t sure that he would’ve rushed up to help her. She was tough, even if she didn’t look it—even if she hadn’t started out that way, when she’d first tumbled into the Mirror Chamber like a newborn gazelle. But she’d gotten stronger, through playing with all the unfair hands the school dealt her. Leona had to say, she was doing pretty good for herself so far. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world for her to flaunt that sometimes, if that was in the form of persevering in the face of assailants to make them leave disappointed and defeated.

“If this is how you compliment people you think are dull and dimwitted, I can’t imagine what you say to people you admire,” Yuu teased, surprising Leona at her sudden bold streak.

He wouldn’t admit it, but something in his smirk became a little more warm at that. There was that spine. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he purred, watching as her frown turned into a little huff and a grin. A yawn caught him off-guard, reminding him just how late it was and how he was not in his bed. And yet, for some reason, Leona was not nearly as aggravated as that knowledge should have made him. “Guess you’ll have to see if you’ll find out tomorrow.”

Yuu didn’t argue this time before she went back inside, Leona found. Good. At least she was making some progress in that aspect. But he still had to let out the softest growl he could when she started towards the couch, making her look back at him in confusion. “What’re you doin’?”

She blinked, her brow furrowing as she looked back at him. “Sleeping?”

“Not there you aren’t. Take the bed.” Yes, his sleep might suffer from the couch’s less-quality surface. But Leona thought it was the least he could do to give her his bed, especially given the circumstances.

But the prefect—the stubborn, headstrong part of her that only seemed to rear up when he least wanted it to—fought him then. “What? No, it’s yours. I’m okay on the couch. I’m not making you give your bed to me, too.”

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t fine with it,” Leona told her, feeling the hints of annoyance creep into his voice. It was too late for him to want to argue. “Take the bed. It’s yours now.”

Yuu frowned, looking down at the couch Leona was already starting towards. “Grim’s already asleep,” she pointed out, making Leona scowl to himself at how she was still trying to stop him. “You won’t have much room.”

“I can move ‘im.” But Yuu was still following him, so Leona sighed, turning around to face her instead. “When’d your respect come back, huh?” he asked, the gruffness in his voice not entirely irritation, he found. “Or maybe it didn’t, since you don’t seem to listen.”

She opened her mouth, about to say something back to him that Leona had no doubt would make his scowl turn into a snarl. “Let’s share it then,” she compromised, making that rumble starting to prickle his throat immediately die out. That wasn’t what he thought she’d say.

“What.” His voice still had the faint snarl of how unimpressed he was, despite catching him off-guard.

But Yuu seemed completely set on this idea, even though she had only thought of it just a second ago. “Let’s share. You’ll be happy because you were a gentleman, and I’ll be happy because I wasn’t a total jerk to you.”

Leona just glowered at her. “No.”

“Why not?” There were a million answers to that question. Leona had not the patience or the energy to list them, so he settled to give her a smoldering stare instead. She was smart enough to think of at least a few of them on her own. “If this is because I’m a girl, I don’t care. You can’t treat me any differently than before, or else people are going to catch on,” she reminded, making his eyes glint sharper at how he hated that she was right. “Or we could just settle with both of us sleeping on the ground. Your call.”

The sigh that was building in his throat tapered into a growl as Leona pinched the bridge of his nose in his irritation. He was too tired to deal with this. “When I said to use that spine of yours, I didn’t mean on me,” he grumbled.

“You didn’t specify that at the moment.” He had the sneaking suspicion Yuu was grinning at him while his tail lashed behind him. Leona fought the urge to bare his teeth. So he just gave her the most smoldering glare he had yet, when he saw for certain that she indeed had the faintest of smiles on her lips. “If you’re fine with it, I am,” she added, a little less stubborn and a bit more serious.

Even though he knew he should deny her, Leona found himself caving. “You better not kick in your sleep, herbivore,” he warned, finding the way that her eyes lit up at her victory against him less annoying than it should be. It wasn’t his problem. He was just trying to get the least work out of this.

He turned his back to her the moment he laid down, careful to keep his tail curled onto his leg. “Good night,” she called softly, making Leona hum in a half-scoff as he finally turned off the lights. Finally, he could close his eyes and sleep. He did exactly that.

Until he felt the mattress start to rise again, telling him how its second user was trying to get up. “Stop movin’,” he growled, not bothering to open his eyes this time. She didn’t. The mattress lifted more. “Herbivore.”

“I didn’t finish my paperwork.” Leona didn’t have the willpower to even scoff. Before Yuu could fully get up, he turned over, slinging an arm around her waist to make her stay down. “Leona, let go,” she huffed, struggling against him. It only made his grip tighten.

He opened an eye then, peering at her with an emerald flame hot as the savannah at its most blistering. “Stop movin’,” Leona told her again. This time she did.

Yuu looked back at him with a gaze every bit as unamused as his, ghostly blue as the moon and stars outside. “Fine.” That satisfied Leona, so he let his eye close again, content to go to sleep. “You can let go now.”

“Are you goin’ to get up?” he asked, more a rumble than anything else.

“No.” Leona hummed at that. They both knew that was a lie. But still Yuu sighed, gently tugging on his arm in one last futile attempt. “Leona.”

“Good night,” he drawled, chuckling silently at the way that made Yuu let out an angry noise and pinched his arm in response. And yet, he still did not move, even when he found that he’d stayed awake long enough to make sure she’d fallen asleep.

It wasn’t his problem, he reminded himself one last time, as he drifted off to the faint sound of her breathing.

Leona groaned when something called his name, too busy sleeping to wake. It called to him again, and his ears flattened this time, trying to drown out the voice to instead stay asleep. But then something hit him, pummeling his side with harmless attacks, and he finally had to wrench his eyes open, a snarl rumbling in his throat at whoever it was that dared to wake him in that manner.

“Paws off my minion!” Grim exclaimed, though he cowered when Leona set his gaze on him. He darted behind the leg of someone else, who, when Leona followed it up to their face, found to be Ruggie.

He was his assailant, he found, baring his fangs at the pillow in his hands. “Rise and shine,” the hyena chimed, grinning down at his housewarden. “Borrowed this ‘cause it didn’t seem like you needed it, what with your new one there.”

It was then that Leona remembered about the second person in his bed, when he glanced down to find her twisted around to face him, the hints of a crease in her brow. Then she noticed his gaze, and it disappeared, replaced with a twitch of the corners of her mouth that made Leona realize her face was pink. “Will you let go of me now?” she asked, though her voice seemed a touch amused underneath the hesitant exasperation in it.

Leona lifted his arm away as though she’d burned it. “My bad.” shooting Ruggie a glare as the hyena snickered. “You think you’re off the hook for that?” he asked, words now meant for him instead of just the herbivore.

“Not really.”

“Good. Start runnin’.”

“How come my hench-human gets a bed, but I hafta settle for a couch?” Grim seethed, grating voice getting on Leona’s already worn-down nerves.

Yuu laughed before Leona could fully get up, getting his attention. “You had more space than us that way,” she reasoned, either unaware or ignoring the way the housewarden was shooting him a look. “I thought you’d like that better than having to share with me again.”

“Oh. You got a point, I guess.” Leona turned his stare to the prefect instead when she nudged his shoulder, before getting up with a yawn. Ignoring it, then, he decided, when he saw the way she was looking back at him, too.

What luck he had. So many people to teach a lesson, and the perfect way to do so was in just a few minutes. “You’d better be ready to have your tail handed to you for interruptin’ my sleep,” Leona growled, scowling at the way Ruggie laughed.

“Looky here, guys, we made Leona mad.” He was just about to make Ruggie regret that then and there, but then the herbivore laughed again. And Leona just sighed instead, running a hand through his hair as he found his annoyance seep out of him. It was too early for this. “Chop chop, everyone. The rest of the dorm’s waiting on us.”

Another day of getting swept up in spells and tossed around like a toy had come and gone. Yuu’s prospects were looking dim at this point—nothing was working, everything was going wrong, and the infuriating Leech twins were always around every corner, just waiting to ruin any hope of progress she had in sight. Yuu had tried to keep her face as neutral as she could, but Ruggie must have seen how grim she was when he walked them back to Leona’s dorm.

“Bad day, huh?” he asked, and Yuu was almost a little surprised at the absence of any taunting in his voice. She looked up to see that he was giving her a small smile she would almost call sympathetic. “Those Octavinelle guys are something else.”

“No kidding.” She sighed, wincing a little as she moved wrong to make a new spell-given burn throb with hot pain. Yuu wasn’t able to keep track of what injuries were from who anymore, what with Floyd slinging most of her friends’ magic right back at them, but it didn’t make them hurt any less. “I never got to thank you for convincing Leona to let us stay, by the way.”

Ruggie shrugged, that grin turning a bit more playful. “If it gives me a couple days off, I’d take it.” Yuu rolled her eyes at that, especially when Grim started to pipe up with his own objections. “Honestly, it didn’t take as much pushin’ as it normally would,” he admitted. “Guess he has a soft spot for ‘ya.”

“How can you call any of what he’s doin’ a ‘soft spot?’” Grim yowled, totally unconvinced. “The guy’s hardly done anything ‘cept give us even more work to do!”

And yet, Yuu found herself silently wondering if Ruggie was right. Leona loved his sleep more than anything—that was something that would be undeniable until the end of time. But for two nights in a row, he’d sacrificed it for her, even if it wasn’t entirely willing. He’d helped her more than she could ever repay in the span of last night alone, in so many more ways than one.

So Yuu found herself wanting to defend him, even though Leona would hardly care what was said about him behind his back. “I don’t know. He’s been nice, in his own way,” she tried to reason.

Grim was not impressed. “You’re just saying that ‘cause he let you sleep in his bed last night,” he grumbled, giving her an unamused stare. “I still don’t know how you pulled that off. I’m jealous!”

Ruggie gave her a look that was much more entertained than Grim’s, which she tried to ignore alongside the heating of her face. “You had more space,” she reminded. “I think we were all happier last night.”

“I’m sure you were.” Yuu gave Ruggie a look, who just snickered right back. “Come on. Leona has a messy room and it’s your job to fix it.”

Grim and Yuu both groaned at that, not very willing to go do even more labor after an already arduous day. But Yuu found that she didn’t really mind it, despite that it would make her keep going instead of resting. And what more, when the three of them got to Leona’s room, she also found she thought that the room didn’t seem as messy as it did yesterday.

Maybe it wasn’t just her imagination, because Ruggie whistled. “Are you picking up because you have guests, Leona?” he teased, making his housewarden shoot him a smoldering glare and flick his tail. “What a nice guy you are.”

“Keep talkin’ and I’ll stop giving you the favor of slacking off,” he promised, deciding to make a show of getting comfortable to just taunt Ruggie all the more.

Yuu couldn’t help but grin a little. Savanaclaw certainly wasn’t as strict and uptight as Heartslabuyl, that was certain. “I’ll work on the bathroom,” she offered, not wanting to leave anything to chance. Yuu was pretty sure that she’d hidden everything well enough, but just in case either Grim or Ruggie decided to do a deep clean, she didn’t want them to find anything.

And while the second sunset of her three-day deal concluded, Yuu spent it cleaning. Then singing, albeit in the worst voice she could possibly use, in hopes of getting the two beastmen to aid her in the final confrontation to come.

#disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x yuu #twisted wonderland x mc #leona kingscholar #yuu #twst yuu #leona kingscholar x yuu #leona kingscholar x reader #three nights remain #cloudedgalaxies

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otomiyaa · 3 days

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Ticklish Blade x Reader

Platonic + 47. "I wasn't even touching you." Requested by anon for my 1K Followers Event🌻

Guess guess what scene inspired this, hahaha!

It felt... odd. You eyed the driver nervously. He was so quiet. Not more quiet than usual, but in this case it was kind of concerning.

"Blade...?" you murmured. It was already a surprise that Blade was offering you a ride while you had no idea he even had a driver's license. But the bigger surprise was when you realized Blade was sleep-deprived, and getting in a car accident with him was not necessarily on your wishlist.

Too bad the realization came only after he started the car, and you were now trying to make sure he wasn't falling asleep.

"Blade?" you asked, louder this time.

"What."

Another person would think he was angry, but you knew him better by now.

"Are you sure you're alright? I can go there myself. No need to help me."

"I'm fine. I already told you."

You gazed out of the window, then back at him. Instead of acting like you were worried about him, maybe a more selfish attitude would do it then.

"I appreciate your gesture, really. I'm just wondering if you can get me there in one piece."

You saw him frown a little. "Are you doubting me?"

"Not your driving skills, of course. But... Your current state. Blade, you haven't slept at all. I'd like to keep living, if you'll let me."

He was quiet for a moment and you had a feeling he was going to ignore this discussion. But then he simply pulled both hands off the wheel, and you gasped.

"What are you doing?!" you shrieked, only for Blade to look at you, with his hands right above the wheel and the expression on his face almost, what was it... taunting?

"The car is driving itself. Now happy?"

Oh he was totally taunting you. How petty, hehe.

You would laugh at it, but because of the jumpscare, the first thing you did was let out a sigh in relief. "I can't believe you," you said, faking as if you were going to hit him, but to your surprise he jumped slightly and blocked himself with his arm.

"Don't," he hissed. You stared at him and cocked your head.

"Huh? What're you getting all defensive for? I wasn't even touching you."

Blade glared. "Yet. You sure were about to."

You chuckled. "What, is the almighty Bladie afraid I'm gonna hit him? For real?" you teased.

"Don't call me that."

It was strange, Blade wouldn't recoil from a hit, fake or real, not from an enemy and definitely not from you, so... You smirked.

"Hey!" Blade's voice did quite the thing when your finger pierced into his side, poking him misschievously.

"What are you doing?!" he asked angrily.

"I have a feeling you just thought I was going to tickle you, weren't you? Which inspired me... to actually tickle you."

"I did no-ahh! Don't! That's dangerous! Stahahap!" Blade yelped when you tickled him again. You couldn't stop grinning. This was just gold.

He must've witnessed the two or three times you ended up getting in a tickle fight with Silver Wolf the past days, which caused him to think you were actually going to tickle him just now? The idea wouldnt even cross your mind!

Well, now it definitely did.

"Dangerous how? You said the car is driving by itself. I'm just making sure the driver and passenger won't get bored in the meantime," you said, wiggling your fingers against his side. Blade squirmed in his seat. This was just wonderful. You could see him struggle to not move too much - since then it would get a little more dangerous after all.

Right now he was merely trapped in the driver's seat and forced to endure your little tickle attack.

"I'll - ahah! Stop that!" Blade's angry giggles were everything. You knew you were really being too reckless for someone who valued life so much until seconds ago. But ticklish Blade was actually a discovery worth it.

"Gehehet ohohoff!" Blade swatted at you, and the lack of force in his reactions only made you go "aww". He wasn't entirely helpless - there were plenty of ways he could make you stop without crashing the car, but those might probably include hurting you, or...

Nah, never mind. He would never.

"Lahahast chahance!" Blade warned, jumping hilariously in his seat and twisting from side to side to avoid your relentless tickles. Using both hands, you wiggled your fingers against his sides and ribs, and occasionally tried to poke his tummy, but he really blocked that area with all of his might.

"Last chance or what?" you asked, but finally he managed to catch one of your hands. Then without warning he clawed at your side, tickling you back, and you screamed in surprise.

"EHEyes on the road sihihir!" you cried out in sudden panic. Blade froze, appearing shocked by the volume of your voice. You had already pulled your knees up and lay curled up in your seat, watching him in fear as you anticipated his counter attack. He would never tickle you back: you were confident about that. But... not anymore.

He sighed. "Then stop tickling me." Blade finally put his hands back on the wheel, and for the second time this ride, you sighed in relief.

It was funny to hear him say that word. Hmm. Maybe you just ruined your chances of having your first ever tickle attack with Bladie. But tickle fights in cars were never ideal. You smirked. Knowing he was ticklish and might even potentially tickle you back, you couldn't help but store this information in your head for another time.

"Don't you even think about it," Blade said, probably noticing the smirk on your face.

"I wasn't thinking anything~" you sang, but of course both of you knew that wasn't true!

#x reader tickles #honkai star rail #blade #x reader #blade x reader #tickling #tickle fic #otomiya!writes #hsr #lee!blade

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goose-duck · 2 days

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💚Lloyd is probably mildly disturbing to talk to💚

Lego Ninjago Lloyd headcanon

~~~~~~

"if there were no consequences I'd probably kill someone" Lloyd spoke casually, sitting in the living room, scrolling through his phone. Jay was the only other person in the room, he knew Lloyd was talking to him and he felt confused, disturbed even.

"uh...what..?" Jay said worriedly.

"you heard me" Lloyd responded, not looking up from his phone.

Jay shut his phone off, setting it on his lap and looking at Lloyd, giving him a worried yet serious look. "Lloyd..." he starts as calmly as he can, "everything okay, buddy..?"

Lloyd scoffs, laughing under his breath after, "yeah, why do you ask?" He says it as if he's not aware of how bad 'if there were no consequences I'd probably kill someone' sounds.

Jay sighs, realizing Lloyd doesn't think much of what he said, "you know most people wouldn't do that, right?" Jay is visibly getting a little anxious about this conversation, waiting for Lloyd's response.

"oh yeah, I know, but I would." Lloyd laughs a little while speaking, he says it like it's obvious, like Jay should have already known he felt this way.

Jay's voice shakes as he speaks, "why..?" He barely whimpers the word out, finding this conversation awkward and worrisome.

Lloyd once again answers, sounding less casual, more menacing, peaking up from his phone to look Jay in the eyes, "because people really piss me off sometimes, y'know?" He says with a smirk plastered on his face, his green eyes showing an intensity in them that makes Jay avert his gaze.

"yeah...i know..." the words stumble out of Jay's mouth, he's nervous, he no longer wants to be having this conversation, however he continues to speak, "but isn't killing a bit extreme?" He speaks nervously, peaking at Lloyd through the corner of his eye.

"I don't think so." Lloyd says with more confidence than Jay was comfortable with, making an effort to make his more relaxed yet threatening facial expression seen by Jay.

Jay notices this and decides it's time to leave. He quickly stands up and leaves the room, letting out a quick "bye" before exiting and making his way down the hall.

Lloyd just shrugs to himself, returning his gaze to his phone and continuing about his afternoon as normal.

#goose duck #lego ninjago #ninjago #lloyd garmadon #ninjago lloyd #jay walker #ninjago jay #ninjago headcanons #ninjago fanfiction

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syndullqs · 1 day

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𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 — 𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒉

summary — a mission unlocks memories in your brain you’d rather forget. tech helps, in his own way.

warnings — gn!reader, angst, fluff, mentions of childhood trauma, hunter’s a prick

note — i heard this sound on tiktok and it unlocked a memory i did NOT want unlocked lol so enjoy this self indulgent piece

𝐈𝐓’𝐒 𝐅𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐘. it’s funny how something as small as a child crying causes someone to fold in on themselves. you almost were shot because of it, and you definitely got an earful back on the marauder.

“what were you thinking? just standing there? you could’ve been killed!” hunter’s voice penetrated your clouded thoughts, scolding you for a poor job. he had a point; you were almost killed.

“but i wasn’t, hunter, so what’s the big deal?” you challenge, crossing your arms over your chest. what was next, was he going to question how you worked with the team? was he going to exclude you from future missions? you almost dared him.

“the big deal? y/n you nearly cost us the mission and you could have been killed,” he paused, taking a minute to think. though, given his next words, he should have taken more time to think, “i think you should sit out on the next mission,” his voice was still raised, breaths spilling from his mouth like he ran a marathon.

yet there it was.

exclusion.

“fine, it’s your call, you’re the sergeant,” your words were not short of being venomous, making hunter realize instantly what he just told you. you were a valuable asset to the batch, a sounding board, and he just told you to sit out.

there wasn’t a lot of places for you to go, so you sat in the co-pilot’s chair. you brought a knee up to your chest, resting your chin on it. the silence was comforting, but your mind still swam. hunter’s words, their words, the child crying…

“for the record, i don’t think you should sit out next mission,” tech was the first to speak, the softness and quietness of his voice illustrating just how unused to that he was. his words only earned a scoff from you.

“it was the child crying, no?” he guessed. tech noticed the shift in your demeanor when the child started crying to her mother, wondering why everyone left. you grew stiff, your eyes unfocused, and of course, you were nearly shot.

“what gave me away?” you asked him, still refusing to meet eyes with him. despite tech not being well-versed in comfort, he still knew how to read people. he could read them very well. interpreting those emotions was a different skill.

“the fact you were nearly shot, mainly,” he stated as-a-matter-of-factly, “but also the way your demeanor changed. your shoulders tightened, your eyes widened. not to mention your voice changed,” he went on to describe just how much your body changed. you didn’t think he paid that much attention to you.

“i didn’t think it was that obvious,” you shrugged, taking your chin off of your knee. you slid your eyes over to meet his, the softness of them underneath his goggles provided an odd place of comfort for you. he didn’t judge you, he was merely stating facts.

“it was,” he felt heat rise to his cheeks, a feeling he logically knew was because of his attraction to you. emotionally, he wouldn’t acknowledge it.

“at least to me,” tech added softly, attempting to make the situation better than what it was. your eyes widened again, unsure of how to feel about this. ever since you started working with the bad batch, talking about emotional experiences was hard with tech. so you didn’t. hearing him acknowledge your feelings and talk about his own shocked you. it shouldn’t have.

“when i was a kid, i was bullied a lot,” you started, pulling down the wall you’ve built up over the years, “their form of bullying was excluding me from things. i was invited to parties, but never talked to. i was never played with, and kids made fun of me for the stuff i liked,” you continued. you’ve never spoken to any of them about this. it was too sensitive. the fear of rejection and judgement was too strong.

silence followed, filling the space between you. tech didn’t know what to say, but he knew that this was sensitive information. he knew that it was hard for you to talk about, and so he didn’t want to say anything to potentially make things worse.

“hearing that little girl cry, asking her mother where everyone went, it just…i don’t know. it was under different circumstances but still,” you were failing to understand why the moment froze you. hunter was right, you could have been killed.

“it was a different circumstance, but,” tech started, his words coming out slowly as he processed them, “your fight or flight kicked in. it’s human nature whenever we come in contact with something that’s upset us or, dare i say, traumatized us,” his eyes searched yours, trying to read the expression on your face. tech knew what it was like to be ostracized for the things you’re good at. he was a defective clone, he knew almost exactly what you felt.

“when…when i was a cadet, still on kamino, i wasn’t treated very kindly by the regs simply for being different. the words they said, even some of the things they did, it was not kind of them,” tech’s words marinated in your mind for a moment. you found yourself completely facing him, engrossed in the man in front of you. you finally found someone to relate to, that knew what it was like to be excluded and bullied. for once, you could breathe.

“you didn’t deserve that,”

“neither did you,” he agreed, his warm, brown eyes cradling yours. he came to the same realization you did. he wasn’t as alone as he thought he was. as much as he wished neither of you went through what you did, it brought you two together, and he was grateful for that.

“we do need to work on your fight, flight, or freeze response,” he lightened the mood. you smiled and laid back in your chair.

“i know i know,” you smiled. you didn’t catch it, but tech smiled too.

here’s some tech! this was kind of self indulgent so i apologize for that, i still hope you enjoy though!

#star wars #star wars imagines #star wars imagine #star wars the clone wars #the bad batch #tbb tech #tbb imagine #tech bad batch imagines #tech x reader #tech bad batch x reader

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livingformintyoongi · 2 days

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Sons of Silence has been one of the biggest gangs in South Korea for years, and none of the group's seven head members are willing to surrender that title to anyone, including the new gang trying to steal their territory at any cost.

Shameless

Seokjin (GD's right-hand man) x fem!reader (Chaebol/Jimin's sister)

Jin had always been a quiet person for the most part. He didn't pick fights, he only responded to the actions of others, he always kept to himself, and if he could help it, he wouldn't get his hands dirty.

Or at least that's what he thought of himself before you arrived completely disheveled and injured at the door of his house, with an umbrella in hand and completely willing to hit him as many times as necessary as long as he revealed the location of your brother.

Don't Blame Me

Yoongi (Hitman) x fem!reader ("The girl of a thousand faces")

You and Yoongi have been a couple for years, even before you joined the gang. The trust between you was on another level. Yoongi knew he could let you do your job in peace because you were incredible at it, and you knew not to worry about Yoongi because there was no person more skilled and cautious than him.

Things had worked out well for both of you for a long time, you were overconfident, you put yourself in danger for no reason, those were some of the things Yoongi thought when a box with your ring and a picture of you in some sort of abandoned house arrived on his doorstep.

He wasn't sure how it happened, but there was no doubt that he would not let it go, and, even if he had to burn the whole city, he would find you and bring you back home.

She's Craxy But She's Mine

Hoseok (Police officer) x fem!reader (Seokjin's sister)

Hoseok was very attached to his principles. The laws were there to be enforced, and he was there to make sure to punish those who wished to or directly violated any of those laws.

He was always proud of how right he was and how well he did his job. All it took was for him to get a promotion and realize that not everything would be so easy, especially when you seemed so willing to do whatever it took to get Hoseok, and, to his surprise, he also seemed intent on surrendering to his principles in order to keep you safe.

Partners In Crime

Namjoon (GD/Gang leader) x fem!reader (Police chief)

In your entire career as a cop, you've never missed a case. Never. You were the best in your unit and everyone respected and admired you. But not everything can be flawless, right?

For a few years you had been stuck chasing a pretty powerful gang. You knew they were based in Seoul, you knew the names of some of the people involved, you even managed to put some of their members in jail, but there was one thing you could never seem to catch.

Kim Namjoon, better known in the gang as GD, someone everyone thought you considered your biggest enemy.

They couldn't have been more wrong.

You Right

Jimin (New gang member/Chaebol) x fem!reader (Bloods leader's girlfriend)

Not more than six months ago you had met Woojeong, a boy who had quite a lot of charisma and, what you liked the most, he belonged to a gang that was slowly making a big name for itself in that world.

He always took you with him, no matter how dangerous the situation. You were there when he signed a deal with another gang, and you were there when he shot some messengers.

Oh, and of course, you were there when Jimin came on behalf of GD to sign a deal, and, shit, you couldn't have been more hooked on him.

You wanted him for yourself. You wanted his body, you wanted his smile, you wanted his voice, you wanted absolutely every part of him, and neither your boyfriend nor his gang would stop you.

Indecent Proposal

Taehyung (Gang lawyer) x fem!reader (Detective's daughter)

Your friend was missing. She didn't answer calls, she didn't answer messages, no one knew anything about her.

You tried to tell your father to help you look for her, but no matter how much you begged him, you didn't get a yes from him. Probably in another situation you would have given up, in fact, you wouldn't even have begun to question what was going on, but she was your friend, almost your sister.

That's why, one night, you decided to take your backpack, steal your father's gun and escape through the window of your room, determined to find any clue that would bring you closer to her.

Guilty As Sin?

Jungkook (Hitman) x fem!reader (Nurse)

After years of living in the United States, you had finally returned to Korea. Many things in the relationship seemed to have remained intact. The convenience store on the corner still had a burned out light, the park bench in front of your parents' house was still full of scratches and chewing gum.

Yes, many things were still the same, but Jungkook? He definitely didn't fit into that group.

The first time you saw him he hid behind his mother because he was too intimidated by visitors. Now, on your first reunion, he was sitting in front of a policeman trying to explain why he had hit your boyfriend's car with his motorcycle.

And you were too upset and surprised to keep your opinion to yourself.

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justlightlysedated · 2 days

Text

you have set your heart on haunting me forever from the start (it's never silent)

Read on AO3 [HERE]

Edwin remembers not giving much thought to what he was going to do once he escaped hell. The only thought in his head at the moment had just been get out, get out, get out.

And then, after that, Charles happened.

Of all of the things that Edwin had been expecting, Charles was not one of them. And by the time that Charles had taken his last breath, Edwin hadn't known how he was going to spend the rest of his unlife without his presence.

Charles deciding to stay behind never even crossed his mind.

Now thirty years later, he thinks back and realizes that he'd undoubtedly started falling for Charles right then in that moment.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" Charles' voice startles him out of his recollection, and he blinks twice quickly before finding Charles sitting on top of the desk, perched on the corner where he always sits, tossing a baseball up and down, as his eyes dart all over Edwin's face as though he'll figure out the answer if he looks enough.

He is both entirely too close and not close enough. It's a thought that's plagued Edwin's mind as of late.

It's almost as though Charles is testing his boundaries, seeing how much Edwin would let him get away with, now that they both knew that Edwin was in love with him.

There isn't a problem with that per se, but what Charles doesn't seem to be aware of is that Edwin would let him get away with a lot.

Charles had become proprietary of his personal space, pretty much from the very beginning. And Edwin hadn't even thought to set up that boundary.

Edwin has never been someone who craved the touch of someone else. Ever since he was a child, he'd learn that touch wasn't something that he was allowed, neither to give nor to receive.

But with Charles it had always been different. Even when Edwin initially flinched away from any and every touch, Charles just became more careful. And much sooner than Edwin would have expected, he didn't have to be.

It had taken barely a year into their partnership for Edwin to become used to having Charles treating Edwin's personal space as though it were his own.

Standing too close to look over Edwin's shoulder at whatever he's holding at the time, wrapping his fingers around Edwin's wrist and tugging him away from his books and to whatever crazy scheme he'd cooked up, tapping Morse code along the inside of Edwin's forearm during cases where they had to be absolutely quiet, draping an arm around Edwin's shoulders while they walked, crashing into him whenever he could convince Edwin to dance with him, dropping to sit down next Edwin on the couch and leaning his head on Edwin's shoulder, during particularly quiet nights, when he was in a particularly quiet mood-

Edwin's train of thought is once again derailed by Charles, who kicks him lightly on the thigh.

He blinks a few times, and realizes that he's been staring at Charles this whole time Charles, who didn't look away, and is staring at Edwin with a soft expression, lips quirked in one corner, eyes bright in the dim lighting. It's the same type of look that he gets whenever Edwin rants about whatever current project he'd been researching.

He blinks a few times, trying to recall what Charles had said.

What are you thinking so hard about?

"You," he says, or more like blurts out, since it had been a while without an answer.

Charles gives him a slightly confused look before he realizes that Edwin was answering his question. The smile on his face grows wider, eyes positively sparkling as he leans down a little, "Oh yeah?"

"Quite," Edwin replies, because he's never actually learned how to successfully lie to Charles about anything.

Charles' smile gets wider, and he slides a bit closer, until he's pressing his leg against Edwin's knee and keeping it there.

Edwin inhales sharply, eyes falling to the space where they're touching.

Touching anyone still alive felt like nothing, and it took a considerable amount of conscious thought to achieve.

Touching other ghosts however felt almost like murky static, a buzzing sensation that felt stronger when the touch was intentional.

Edwin resists the urge to pull away from the touch, but also the urge to push into it.

He looks back up at Charles, who is staring at him with a look on his face that Edwin isn't familiar with, but it's been happening more and more as of late.

His eyes dart all over Edwin's face, before he's moving again, this time to lean back against the desk right in the space left behind when Edwin had pushed the chair back when thinking about Charles had taken priority over his reading.

Their legs are just barely brushing. And when Charles leans down a little, Edwin gasps quietly, eyes widening a little.

Charles just gives him a soft look, "What about me, exactly?"

Edwin opens his mouth to reply, he's not entirely sure what he was going to say when the door to the office opens, and in comes Crystal, already talking.

"I have a case for us, and before you say no it doesn't involve any witches or demons, and they'll pay us in actual cash plus a book all about deadly poisonous plants which has been passed down in our client's family line for generations."

She looks up then, furrowing her brows as she spots them.

"Sorry," she says, slowly, not actually looking sorry at all. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Absolutely not," Edwin says quickly, getting up at the same time that Charles straightens up, so that they're practically pressed close together. Too close, for too long seconds, where Edwin feels like he might actually be lightheaded even though he doesn't need to breathe, and Charles just stares at him with that same unfamiliar expression.

Crystal clears her throat, loudly. "Clearly," she says, and Edwin can hear the amusement in her voice.

Charles moves then, turning to face Crystal and smiling as he makes his way over to her.

He presses his fingers to Edwin's wrist as he goes, a touch that sends sparks down the back of Edwin's hand.

He inhales sharply, and then closes his eyes, breathing more carefully before he turns to face Crystal and Charles who seem to be having a conversation using only their eyebrows and a few head tilts.

"So," Edwin says slowly and deliberately. They both turn to face him. Charles stuffing his hands into his pockets, and Crystal crossing her arms across her chest. "What's the case?"

Crystal tells them all about the ghost she'd heard crying in an alley and how she doesn't know how she died. Crystal had told her that she was part of a detective agency that helped ghosts figure out their unfinished business, and the ghost had offered cash and the book, both which she'd buried in the park a couple of weeks previously, but she wasn't sure why. She would give them the coordinates if they took her case.

"So what do you think?" Crystal asks as soon as she's done. She's got her hands on top of the desk, leaning forward and looking at Edwin seriously. Charles is sitting once again at the corner of the desk, and Edwin is standing right across from Crystal, writing everything that she's said, and jotting down a couple of questions that would need to be answered.

He looks up when he's done, eyes on Crystal, who lifts her eyebrows in question.

"I think that we'll need to talk to the client before I can come to any conclusion."

Crystal smiles, and pushes away from the desk, "Awesome, because she's waiting outside."

She walks to the door, and Edwin looks to Charles, who is grinning as he looks at him.

"What?" Edwin asks, brow furrowed.

"Nothing," he says, standing up and moving to Edwin's side. "Just a couple of weeks ago you were trying to get rid of her, and now you're letting her choose the cases. It took me years to get that privilege."

"Yes well," Edwin says, eyes darting to the closed door and back. "Crystal is clever and discerning. Whereas you see a pretty face and invite them to stay for as long as they want."

"Oi," Charles says, pushing Edwin's shoulder with his and shooting him a quick smile. "Are you ever going to let that go?"

Edwin hums, tapping a finger to his chin like he's thinking about it, before he shakes his head, "No, I don't think so."

Charles laughs at that, turning to fully face Edwin, "Hey, it all turned out alright in the end, didn't it?"

Edwin turns to face Charles at that, reaching out impulsively, and wrapping his fingers around Charles' wrist, carefully but deliberately. "I think it turned out better than alright."

Charles' eyes dart all over his face momentarily, before he smiles, and pulls his hand from Edwin's hold, letting their palms and fingers slide against each other, sending shocks of sensation all the way up Edwin's arm, causing Edwin to inhale sharply.

"Yes," Crystal's voice interrupts the moment. "They are always like that."

They both turn towards her at the same time.

There is a young woman standing next to her. She looked to be about a couple of years older than them. Her hair was pulled away from her face and piled on top of her head, which made the sickening gash on her temple very visible. Most likely the killing blow.

"Alright then." Edwin says, pulling his jacket down. "We are the Dead Boy Detective Agency. How may we help you?"

The ghost tells them that her name is Angela Harrison, but that most people called her Angie. She was nineteen years old when she died, and had been saving up money to leave her house, but she wasn't sure why. She knew that she had lived with her parents, and was going to a local university. She mentions that she doesn't remember much after walking home from her last class of the day. And the most important bit is that she's got a neighbor who had talked to her ghostly form, asking her if she was alright, before realizing that she was dead. He'd ignored her every other attempt to talk to him, so she wasn't sure if he had actually seen her or if it had just been in her imagination.

She'd started to cry towards the end of the interrogation, so Charles herded her over to the couch, to sit next to her and pat her back.

He turns to Crystal who stays where she's leaning against the desk as she turns to Edwin.

"So," she says slowly and deliberately.

"So," Edwin replies, fast and short. "We have to interview the neighbor."

"I agree," Crystal responds, nodding her head. "I've already got the address. It's about a thirty minute bus ride from here."

She pulls out her portable telephone from the pocket of her jeans and taps the screen a few times before turning it to face Edwin to show him the bus schedule.

"The next bus will be at the nearest stop in forty minutes. Should give us enough time to prepare."

Edwin nods his head, opening his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by a peal of giggles.

Both he and Cristal turn towards the sound, to see Angie leaning into Charles while laughing and Charles grinning a charmingly boyish grin.

Edwin taps one finger lightly against the desk, and Charles' head snaps to face them like he'd banged his fist on the wood.

Edwin turns to face Crystal instead of looking back at Charles.

"Did you want me to help you make a list of relevant questions or will you be sticking to your usual tactics?"

Crystal scoffs, "No thank you. I prefer to have some empathy when I'm questioning potential witnesses."

She smiles charmingly at him, and Edwin rolls his eyes, looking away from her to find Charles stopping right next to Crystal.

"What's the plan then?"

The plan goes without a hitch. Mostly.

The hiccup comes when the neighbor, one Turner Smith, turns out to be a psychic. Not as powerful as Crystal, but it was enough that he could see Charles and Edwin.

While Crystal talks, Edwin surveys the room, taking note of the many strange artifacts and more mundane items, like paintings and exquisitely painted vases. Turner is a collector, but he doesn't actually care about the items he owns, which are mostly dusty and in disrepair. If Edwin had to guess, he'd say that this room is used to both impress and intimidate other people.

Turner flirts outrageously with Crystal instead of actually answering any questions. When she shoots him down, he moves to Charles, who doesn't bother to entertain the attention. And then finally to Edwin, who flusters under the attention, since he's not used to it at all. But tries to rally himself immediately.

"We're not here for an afternoon chat, mate," Charles snaps, once Turner places a hand to Edwin's shoulder, and Edwin moves away.

"Are you gonna answer the question or not? There is a dead girl who needs our help," Crystal continues. "And if you're not going to give me the answer. I can just take it."

Edwin knows Crystal enough by now to know that she is bluffing. But he also knows that if she has to, she'll do it.

"You can't get in my head without permission," Turner said, consonants practically disappearing with his nerves.

"Oh trust me, I can, but the real question is what are you hiding in there that you don't want anyone to see?"

She lifts a hand towards him, taking a step closer, and Turner jumps back.

"Fine," he says. "I'll tell you, but it ain't gonna come cheap."

"What do you want in exchange for the information?" Edwin asks, pulling his notebook out of his pocket.

"A kiss?" He says, looking at Edwin both hopefully and salaciously.

Charles lets out a protesting sound, taking a step forward, while Crystal makes a rude sound with her teeth.

Edwin just gives Turner an unimpressed look, "How about something that is actually feasible for you to get? Like the Mona Lisa?"

Crystal snorts at that and Edwin can see Charles relaxing from the corner of his eye.

Turner shrugs, "Can't blame me for trying."

He asks for an occult item, a stone that lights up when ghosts are near that is more of a bauble than an actual threat, and luckily enough they have one lying around in the office, to use as a light source when needed.

Edwin goes to get it while Charles and Crystal stay behind.

When he gets back, Crystal looks pissed off, and Charles looks more murderous than before.

Edwin unilaterally decides that enough is enough, and they need to leave as soon as possible.

"Here we are," he says, stepping forward and holding the stone out. "One wandering stone at your service."

Turner moves closer to him, in a sauntering way, that's meant to be seductive, Edwin thinks.

He grabs the stone with one hand and grabs onto Edwin's hand before he can lower it.

"So that's a definite no to the kiss then?"

Edwin phases his hand away from Turner's hold, taking a step back as Charles moves to step in front of him.

"He already said no once," Charles says, standing between the both of them. "So maybe you should back off, yeah?"

Turner lifts his hands in the air in surrender and takes a step back.

"Okay, okay," he says. "No need for all of that."

"You got what you wanted," Crystal says, stepping up next to Charles. "So tell us, what did you see?"

Turner the psychic turned out not to have any information really. Only that Angie's father was hardly ever around and her mother was not that nice.

They walk to the nearest bus stop, Crystal walking in front of them, doing something on her portable phone while they both walk side by side several steps behind her.

Edwin looks at Charles out of the corner of his eye, and he knows that Charles is putting the same pieces together that he is.

"Can I ask you a question, Charles?"

Charles turns his face towards him incredulously, "You're actually asking for permission."

Edwin just shrugs a little helplessly. Charles shakes his head laughing, "Ask away, mate."

"Do I look like the kind of person that would accept-" he tries to think of an appropriate word, "-physical favors in exchange for information or-"

He cuts himself off, and stops walking at the same time that Charles stops and turns to face him.

"No," Charles says firmly. "That guy was just a loathly wanker, wasn't he?"

Edwin gives him a small smile, "Still. This is the second time that it's happened."

"The second time?" Charles questions, brow furrowed, before it clears up and he gives him a knowing look, "The Cat King?"

Edwin just nods his head, and Charles just gives him an unreadable look for a long second, before shaking his head lightly and looking up to the sky. He takes an exaggerated deep breath, and then looks back to Edwin.

"I should've killed him once when I had the chance," he states, like it's a normal thing to say, and then starts to jog so that he can catch up with Crystal.

Edwin follows after him, reaching out to stop him before he gets too far. Charles stops immediately and turns to face him, raising an eyebrow in question. He looks slightly surprised that Edwin stopped him, but not entirely so.

Edwin just squeezes his fingers around wrist once, before letting go completely.

"Thank you for the offer, but I took care of it, and we left things on good terms. I think using up one of his lives would've gotten us an enemy that could make himself a real nuisance."

Charles shrugs a little, "It would've been worth it."

Edwin shakes his head, smiling, "You do know that I do know how to defend myself right?"

Charles gives him a look, "I've yet to see that actually happening, mate."

"I survived for seventy-"

"Yes, I know," Charles interrupts him. "And that was very cool and brave of you, but who was it that said that they didn't need to learn any self defense since I would be there to protect them?"

He's smiling and leaning into Edwin's space, much closer than is appropriate for the public. Edwin feels a little faint at the closeness, and his head feels like it's swimming.

"Well," Edwin says, swaying just a bit closer, eyes darting from Charles' smiling mouth to his shining eyes. "I've yet to see an occasion where you haven't."

"If you two don't stop flirting you're going to miss the bus," Crystal calls out to them.

Several people look at her like she's crazy, but she gets on the bus like nothing is wrong.

Charles and Edwin turn to look at each other once, before they start running together to get into the bus before it actually pulls away from the curb.

Crystal takes their client aside to ask her the questions about what's going on with her parents. Edwin is in theory supposed to be helping Charles, but instead he's leaning back against his desk and watching as Charles starts to meticulously pack his bag.

Edwin doesn't expect them to actually need to defend themselves against Angie's parents, but he wasn't about to tell Charles that.

Edwin closes his book around one finger so that he doesn't lose his page, and he watches Charles. He remembers the months upon months of work Charles had put into figuring out how the bag worked. How it had been the payment given for a case. Charles had insisted he figure it out, and Edwin had searched through all of the books they had, finding several that were relevant, and leaving them in places where Charles would find them.

The first time that it had come in handy during a case, Edwin hadn't been able to prevent himself from telling him how brilliant it was. A breathless, "That was amazing, Charles!" as they kept running after Charles had thrown a bomb at one of the possessed suits of armor that had been chasing after them.

And a more effervescent, "Seriously Charles, it was aces!" once they'd gotten back to the office.

Charles had smiled, wide and happy both times, and this time he'd reached over and wrapped an arm around Edwin's shoulders, tugging him in close to his side and pressing their temples together for a brief moment.

Edwin remembers gasping in the moment, the touch almost sinking into him, and shuddering a little, before Charles had let him go.

Another instance Edwin can think back on and realize that what he'd been experiencing wasn't just a response to never actually being touched, but a reaction to being in love with Charles.

"I have never seen you this spaced out," Charles says, once again interrupting Edwin's thoughts about him. "Are you still thinking about me?"

Edwin blinks a couple of times. Charles is standing in front of him, another unfamiliar look on his face, eyes shining with something that looked like interest if Edwin didn't know any better.

Edwin looks away from him quickly, clearing his throat and trying to come up with an answer that wouldn't be a complete lie, but also wouldn't be the complete truth.

"Hey," Charles says softly, reaching out a hand to turn Edwin's face back to face him, before dropping his hand back to his side. "There is no need for you to get all poked up about it."

Edwin releases a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, which was a ridiculous thing to do, since he didn't actually need to breathe. But like always, he seems to forget all about that whenever Charles is around.

"You know, I don't mind if you think about me," Charles says, like it's something that he's actually put thought into saying. "It's actually kind of flattering."

Edwin gasps at that as Charles moves closer. "Are you teasing me, Charles?" he asks, voice shaking.

"Depends on what definition of teasing you're ascribing to it," Charles responds. "If you mean, am I making fun of you, then the answer is never."

He moves even closer, hands resting on the desk on either side of Edwin on the desk, and he's so close that if they were alive he'd be able to feel the warmth coming off his skin. As it is, Edwin feels like he's buzzing, like he might just burst into a million tiny atom pieces if Charles moves any closer.

"If you mean am I flirting with you, then the answer is maybe."

Edwin swallows hard, licking his lips, "Maybe?"

"Yeah," Charles responds, leaning in even closer and tilting his head to one side. "I've been doing a lot of thinking about it. About what you said."

"You have?" Edwin questions quietly, eyes fluttering as Charles moves his hands and places them on either side of Edwin's waist.

"I've done nothing but think about it," Charles replies in an equally low voice. "And you know what I think?"

"What?" Edwin breathes, barely audible as Charles lips brush just barely against his cheek, sending sparks of sensation through him.

"That I should pack those books from the list you gave me. Don't want a repeat of what happened with the museum ghost, do we?" he says, pulling away. Edwin follows after him helplessly, not actually hearing what he'd said, until he does.

He stops and gives Charles a look, and Charles, Charles is just grinning at him,

"You, rapscallion," Edwin breathes out, letting himself slump backwards into his desk.

Charles smirks, "It's been a while since you've pulled that one out."

"Yeah, well, it's deserved," Edwin says primly, opening his book again.

He glances up as Charles laughs, almost giggles to himself as he packs the pile of books from the list that Edwin had given him earlier.

Edwin should continue to read his book. But he becomes distracted by Charles once again. The way his face scrunched up as he concentrated on putting away the books in the perfect spot where he'd be able to reach them in a hurry.

Every time he finds himself distracted he wonders how he didn't realize it before.

Why it took an extremely forward Cat King and an ultimately sweet crow turned boy, to help him realize what he was actually feeling, when he can think back on hundreds (on thousands) of moments where he was without a doubt distracted and infatuated.

"I think we should talk after the case is solved," Charles says, and Edwin blinks a couple of times and finds Charles leaning back against one of the glass cases, staring at Edwin like he'd been watching him the entire time that Edwin had been thinking.

"What about exactly?" Edwin asks, even though he already knows what Charles would want to talk about. Edwin has been lost in his thoughts a lot lately. Ever since Port Townsend, and it really doesn't take a genius to figure out why.

"About something that I've been thinking about," Charles responds, stressing the I, like he knows what Edwin had been thinking the conversation had to do with him thinking too much.

Edwin wants to ask, but before he can, Crystal is walking into the office followed by Angie.

"Alright," she says. "I've made sure that both of her parents are going to be at the house tonight. We have less than an hour to get there, so let's just go over the plan one more time."

She looks up from her portable telephone then, and darts a gaze between the two of them, raising her eyebrows pointedly at Charles, who seems to understand what she's trying to say because he shakes his head once, as subtle as he could.

Not subtle enough that Edwin didn't catch it.

While Crystal and Charles go over the plan, he tries not to spiral into what that could mean. Even if Charles is going to tell him that he could never feel anything romantic towards him, Edwin has never been more secure of his place in Charles' life.

Nothing that is coming out of the upcoming conversation is going to have the power to tear them apart. Edwin wouldn't let it, and he knows that Charles wouldn't either.

Edwin walks a few paces behind Charles and Crystal, who are walking arm in arm talking in soft voices. The case is closed. Angie has moved on. And finding out her death was caused by parental neglect and could've been completely unavoidable, had hit a chord within all three of them.

But for Edwin, the neglect of his own parents wasn't something that crippled him anymore, not after the seventy years he spent in hell. He would've given them more privacy, and gone to the office through a mirror, but he didn't exactly want to let either of them out of his sight yet.

So he strolled behind them, while writing in his notebook, finishing up the summary of every time he could recall that he'd been in love with Charles during the last thirty-five years. He'd never planned on giving him the pages after he was done cataloging his memories, but something about the words spat out by Angie's father, about how no one would ever care about a broken child like her, had made Charles so hurt and angry that he'd had to walk out of the house before Crystal was done with her interview. And Edwin had decided that Charles needed to know exactly how much Edwin loved him, despite and inspite of everything.

Every couple of minutes, Charles would glance back towards Edwin, and would nod his head a little, as though Edwin was right where Charles expected him to be, and he was glad that he was there, trailing after them.

They walk to the office, since Crystal had left her bag behind and the keys to her apartment were stuffed in one of the pockets, and Edwin knows that he's not going to follow after them when Charles walks Crystal home. He hasn't before, and he doesn't think that he should now.

It's something that they do on their own. And Edwin won't begrudge that when there are plenty of things that he and Charles share that don't involve Crystal, and the magic lessons he shares with Crystal that they ban Charles from.

Crystal grabs her bag and hugs Edwin goodbye. He pats her back once, and she grins at him. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Edwin inclines his head, "I hope you sleep well tonight."

She gives him a look, which tells him all he needs to know about how she's going to sleep.

Charles grins, holding the door open for her, and moves to go after her, when Edwin stops him.

"I'll be right back," Charles says. "I did say-"

"No, it's not about that," Edwin says, and then he's pulling his notebook out and finding the correct pages before tearing them out.

"Here," he folds the five pages in half, and hands them to Charles, who takes them carefully, keeping them folded, while giving Edwin a questioning look.

"It's just about a problem I've been working on for a bit," he says carefully. Not wanting to give away what was actually written, so that he wouldn't have to answer any questions until after Charles read everything. "I think I got my answer. And I think that it'll help you tonight."

Charles looks down at the papers in his hand thoughtfully and then back to Edwin, who tries not to look as nervous as he suddenly feels.

"It's just a reminder. Some reminders are good every now and again."

Charles opens his mouth to say something when Crystal's voice sounds from the street entrance.

"Charles, I'm gonna miss the bus if you take any longer!"

"Be right there!" Charles yells back and then sticks the papers into the inside pocket of his jacket.

"All right, I'll be back before you know it."

Edwin just nods his head as Charles turns and leaves.

The door closes behind him with a low click sound. Edwin turns around and walks further into the office where he has a pile of books that need to be sorted.

Edwin doesn't know how long he spends putting books away, but by the time he's done, Charles isn't back yet.

Edwin tries, unsuccessfully, not to read into that, and starts clearing things off his desk, a stack of case files, papers they no longer need, mail that needs to be sorted through, books that he's stopped reading part of the way through, too distracted thinking about Charles to actually finish reading them.

He turns with the mail in his hands, and jumps startled, letting the letters fall to the floor, when Charles walks through the wall that leads into one of the empty rooms that surround their office. Usually, when Edwin can't find him, that's where he is, messing around with the dimension trapped inside of his backpack.

He's got the pages that Edwin had handed him, and brandishes them in Edwin's face as he comes to stop right in front of him.

"Did you mean all of this?" he asks, something frantic in his tone. Like he needs to know the answer to that question more than he needs to know anything else.

"Of course," Edwin says immediately, sliding a step closer.. "It is all I've been thinking about lately."

He puts his hand to his chest, where his heart would be pounding out of his chest if he was still alive, "How this feeling crept up on me unawares. And I've come to the conclusion that it really didn't. It was always there. I just pushed it away, because I thought that that was what I was supposed to do. But it was always there, simmering beneath everything."

Charles stays silent for a long moment, eyes darting all over Edwin's face.

"I'm not expecting anything from this," Edwin feels the need to clarify. "After this last case. I just, really wanted you to know that I care, and that you are loved."

Charles exhales softly at that, and lets his hand drop. Stuffing the folded papers into his pocket before Edwin can think to ask to get them back.

Charles moves closer and anything else that Edwin had been about to say dies in his throat. Charles places his hands on Edwin's shoulders, and Edwin feels the touch sinking through him like a soporific, easing away all of the tension he'd been feeling.

"Edwin Payne," Charles says, the look on his face familiar for the amount of times that Edwin has seen it in the last couple of weeks. "You know I love you."

"I do," Edwin replies, trying very hard not to look away from Charles' face, or let the disappointment he feels show.

Charles exhales again, shaking his head, and moves his hands so that he's cupping Edwin's face, "You say that. But I don't think you do, really."

Edwin opens his mouth to speak, but Charles shakes his head. "Just listen to me, yeah?"

Edwin's dart all over Charles' face before nodding his head slightly.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking about this. Which you know is unusual. But I can't just wing this. You're my best mate. My favorite person in the entire world. It's too important."

Charles' eyes dart away from him, like he's trying to figure out how to put what he's feeling into words, and back again, looking more determined than he'd been earlier. "I've never been in love with anyone. I don't know what that feels like. But I have loved other people. I loved my mom and my friends. I love Crystal. But it's all nothing compared to what I do feel for you."

Edwin gasps at the words, and Charles smiles at him, nodding his head a little, like Edwin is finally getting something that he's been trying to tell him for years. And Edwin is just, trying very hard not to do something utterly ridiculous, like slip into the gap still left between them and fit himself into Charles like they're one being.

"You told me that I had to experience hell in order to actually see it," Charles continues, sliding his hands back down to Edwin's shoulders, and the touch makes Edwin shiver, eyes fluttering. "My hell was losing you. And no afterlife would tempt me if you aren't a part of it. I don't know if that is what being in love is, but I do think it's the closest I'll ever get to that feeling."

Edwin can't help the smile that spreads across his face, Charles isn't looking at him in the eyes, eyes to the top of Edwin's head, like he can't look at him directly, but also can't stop looking at him. And Edwin has never felt like this before, like he's going to buzz apart into tiny atoms.

"And I don't know if that's enough-"

"It's enough," Edwin says, interrupting him. Charles' eyes dart back down. "It is more than enough."

Charles smiles, small and intimate, eyes shining brightly. "Yeah?"

"Yes," Edwin replies immediately.

Charles laughs, and wraps his arms around Edwin's shoulders, pulling him into a full body hug. Edwin wraps his arms around him immediately, digging his fingers into Charles' back, pressing his face into Charles' shoulder and closing his eyes.

This is what he's been wanting. Every time Charles touched him, all he craved was Charles pressed as close to him as possible. Edwin isn't sure how he went on the last thirty years without this. Holding Charles and being held in return was what Edwin would hope the afterlife to feel like, warm and safe.

Charles sighs, melting into the touch, and Edwin just holds on to him tighter.

After a couple of minutes, which Edwin hopes will last forever, Charles turns his head, so that his lips are brushing against Edwin's ear.

"There is one thing that I'm sure about," he says, in a low voice.

Edwin digs his chin into Charles' shoulder, not really wanting to let go. "And what is that?"

Charles moves again, pulling back enough that they're face to face, and Edwin lets it happen a bit reluctantly.

Charles laughs at what must be a ridiculous look on his face, and then he leans back in, knocking their foreheads together gently.

"I want to kiss you," he breathes, and Edwin gasps quietly, eyes falling shut.

"Would you?" Edwin asks, leaning forward a little, just enough that their noses brush together.

Charles breathes out a laugh, and Edwin feels it washing over him like sunshine after being trapped in the dark for days.

"If I had known you'd be interested I would've kissed you thirty years ago."

Edwin gasps again, leaning back a little so that he can look at Charles.

Charles is still smiling, but his eyes are sincere. Edwin can just barely believe that this is actually happening. It seems like something that he's been waiting for for years, but also like something that he didn't even realize he wanted until he got it.

And if it had been anyone else, he would've probably been more nervous, but this was Charles.

Who Edwin trusted implicitly.

So instead of questioning this, Edwin takes a page out of Charles' book and goes with his first instinct.

He tightens his arms around Charles, even though it's practically impossible for them to be any closer, and leans in close, pressing his nose to Charles' cheek.

"Then what are you waiting for?"

Charles huffs put a breath, and his voice sounds rough when he speaks again, "Your explicit permission. Wouldn't want to be a repeat of your first now would I?"

Edwin just shakes his head huffing out a laugh. "You could have a repeat of my second kiss if you want instead?"

Charles makes to move backwards probably to question him, but Edwin just follows after him, and presses a kiss to Charles cheek.

Charles stops speaking, breathing in sharply.

Edwin smiles as he pulls away. Charles' eyes flutter open, and he stares at Edwin, like he can't believe that Edwin is real.

Edwin grins at the look on his face, delighted that he's able to surprise Charles after thirty years.

Charles laughs, shaking his head a little before he's moving again, fitting his hands to either side of Edwin's face as he leans in close.

"I'm going to kiss you now," Charles says, seriously.

"Are you really?" Edwin asks, not sounding as sarcastic as he's going for, leaning into Charles' touch, hands splayed along Charles' back. "Or are you just going to keep talking about it all ni-"

Charles kisses him, mouth pressed to Edwin's bottom lip, and the entire world falls silent.

Edwin can feel the soft, buzzing pressure of Charles' mouth against his own, and he's never felt anything quite like it in all of his years both living and dead.

Charles pulls away, and Edwin follows after him, kissing him again, smothering the soft sound of whatever word Charles was going to say with his mouth. Charles slides his hands to the back of Edwin's neck, and keeps him close as he kisses him back.

Charles pulls away again after a long minute, and Edwin keeps his eyes closed for a moment, before he opens them to see Charles staring at him, eyes darker than he's ever seen.

"Edwin," he breathes out, something almost awed in his tone.

"Charles," Edwin says back in the same tone.

Charles grins, happy and bright and then he's tugging Edwin back in for another kiss.

Edwin falls into the kiss, opening his mouth to Charles and making a low, surprised sound when Charles licks against his lips. He pulls away slightly, and Charles is smiling a little sheepishly. "Too much?"

Edwin doesn't answer him, he just kisses him again open mouthed and possibly too enthusiastic, but Charles takes it all in stride, digging his fingers into Edwin's jaw and tilting his head to the side and kissing him back.

Edwin loses himself in the kiss, following Charles' lead, until he accidentally snags his teeth against Charles' bottom lip, and Charles makes a low sound in the back of his throat, that makes that buzzing feeling in Edwin's throat sink to the pit of his stomach.

He drags his hands from where he'd been clenching the back of Charles' jacket into fists, and wraps his fingers in the open collar of his jacket, pushing him backwards and following after him, barely keeping their mouths pressed together.

Charles stumbles backwards, their mouths sliding apart, and he lands to sit back on the desk, toppling the pile of case files that Edwin had yet to put away to the floor. Edwin just follows after him, dropping his hands to the desk on either side of Charles' hips as he pushes in close and licks back into Charles' open mouth.

Charles' moans and wraps his fingers around the sleeves of Edwin's sweater vest, tugging him closer, parting his knees to make space for Edwin's hips between his thighs.

Edwin slides his arms around Charles' waist, and Charles drags his hands into Edwin's hair, scrubbing his fingers across his perfectly styled hair and messing it up entirely.

Not that Edwin cares, not when Charles bites against his lip, and kisses him hard and fast, like he's been starving this entire time, and Edwin was the first good meal he'd had in decades.

Edwin doesn't know how much time passes, but it feels like no time at all has passed as Charles eases away, pressing shaky fingers to Edwin's face as he does.

He's breathing hard, and Edwin would laugh at the absurdity of a ghost being out of breath, if he wasn't too busy panting as well.

Charles licks his lips and swallows hard. "That was-" he starts, trailing off, as he drags his hands back into Edwin's hair, smiling.

"Yeah," Edwin says absentmindedly, eyes drawn down to Charles' neck as he swallows hard, where the collar of his shirt presses into the skin of his throat.

"We should've done that ages ago," Charles continues, but Edwin really doesn't want to talk right now. He leans down, and presses a kiss Charles' throat, half against the collar of his shirt, and half against his skin.

"Oh, bloody hell," Charles breathes, and Edwin presses another kiss, this one harder. Charles' hands slide back into his hair and he tugs.

Edwin muffles the sound he makes against Charles' throat, and noses the fabric of his collar out of the way to drop a kiss lower on his neck.

"Edwin," Charles whines, hands dragging uselessly though Edwin's hair. "Maybe we should stop, yeah?"

Edwin hums against his skin, and bites him lightly, making Charles jump and curse.

Charles tugs Edwin's head away from his neck, and Edwin goes willingly.

"You've got to stop doing that," Charles says breathlessly as he knocks their foreheads together, gently. "Or else we're going to end up naked, and I really want to take you on a proper date before we shag on top of your desk."

Edwin laughs at that, shaking his head and leaning heavier on Charles. "Think highly of yourself, don't you?"

Charles huffs a little, "You're the one kissing my neck."

"I've never done that before," Edwin admits, "But it's not the first time I've thought about doing it to you."

Charles makes a low sound, and kisses him again, too sweet and too fast.

Edwin chases after his mouth, unwilling to let the kiss be so brief and kisses him again.

They lose long minutes like that, kissing and kissing and touching and kissing again, mouths making slick wet sounds as they kiss sloppy and deep, hands scrambling everywhere, Edwin's hands flat on Charles' back, keeping him close, Charles' hands dragging from Edwin's hair to snag in the collar of his shirt, tugging until his bowtie is undone, and back again to his hair. The edges that make them two separate people blurring until Edwin can't tell them apart, like they're trying to fuse together into the same being.

When they part this time, Edwin takes a step backwards, and Charles' hands catch him before he can get too far, fingers hooking into the sleeves of his vest. Edwin presses a shaky hand to his buzzing mouth, feeling tender and aching.

"I'm afraid," he says, swallowing thickly. "That if we had done that before, we wouldn't have gotten anything else done."

Charles laughs, the sound high and breathy, eyes squinting as he looks at Edwin.

Edwin feels it bubbling inside of him, popping in his chest like champagne bubbles, and he can't help but smile back, swaying forward a bit as he just stares at him, feeling the words he hasn't repeated since hell trapped in his throat.

"What?" Charles asks after a couple of long seconds of silence.

"I love you," Edwin says, the words falling out as easy as anything.

Charles smiles, soft and sweet and tugs him closer, wrapping his arms around Edwin's waist and bumping their foreheads together. "Love you too."

Edwin breathes out a happy sigh, letting his eyes fall shut, and he leans against him, feeling for the very first time in the over 100 years of his existence that he's exactly where he's meant to be.

#dbd fic #dead boy detectives #payneland fic #payneland #hi hello #watched this show and it ate my brain #fundamentally changed me forever #so here you go #there is no plot to be found here just vibes #and some case solving in the background #they said ghost can't feel anything and i said bet #this is like the fifth fic that i started for this show #and i have a list #but if you've followed me for a while then you know what i'm like #thank you for reading 🖤#once i figure out a summary for this i'll post it on ao3

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maccahazza · 1 day

Text

CLUB RENDEZVOUS

70s Tim and Hawk

Jealous Hawk and Tim?

Hawk’s eyes haven’t left Tim’s sight. It’s naive to think an attractive man like his Tim wouldn’t be hit on tonight. It’s still shocking to him how Tim has changed. Sure, it’s only been over a year since he’s seen him, but he looks like a completely different person.

The first moment he saw Tim in the house, he knew he was fucked. The way his flannel clung to his body, outlining the toned muscles on his arms and torso, he must’ve grown all that muscle during his time in prison. That mustache — Hawk hated mustaches — but Tim, he made them look… sexy. Tim also looked less pale, had a slight tan, which only made Hawk picture himself running his tongue along the skin of his legs, torso, neck, and arms.

“Let’s dance,” Craig says, trying to grab his arm to pull him onto the dance floor. “I wanna dance!”

“I’m staying right here,” Hawk says sternly. He needs to keep an eye out for Tim who’s having a blast dancing against every man out there. “You go.”

Craig rolls his eyes, annoyed at the fact that Hawke couldn’t let his ex-lover go. “He doesn’t want you anymore,” he spitefully adds before turning around to join everyone else on the floor.

If that were the case he wouldn’t be here right now, Hawk smugly thinks to himself. No matter how many times he unintentionally hurt or betrayed Tim, he knew the younger man would always come back for more. That’s the way it always was between them.

Hawk’s smug smirk quickly disappears when he sees Tim locking lips with some jackass. He sees the man’s hands crawling down to Tim’s ass, gripping him tightly. Bastard probably made him moan, he thinks. Only I— He cuts himself off when he watches how Tim pulls the man closer, kissing him more ravishingly, as if there were no fucking tomorrow.

Hawk stands up from the chair, his gaze dark and intense, and walks up to Tim and the man.

“Sorry, he’s with me,” Hawk says, his eyes burning into the man who was touching Tim. “I suggest you find someone else.”

“No—” Tim says. “I’m not with him.” He tries to pull the man back into his arms but Hawk interferes and pulls Tim to him instead.

“Why are you being like this, Skippy?” Hawkins asks in that low, seductive voice that happens to mesmerize Tim at any second.

“Aren’t you with Craig?” Tim says weakly, already feeling himself crumble under Hawk’s touch. No matter how many times he tries to resist, he can’t. “He said… that you told him he’s the best you’ve had.”

Hawk laughs. “I say that to every fuck I’ve had.”

“Even me?” Tim asks, his voice sounding hurt. Hawkins could see it all over his face.

“Of course not, Tim.”

Hawk sees Tim turn his head to meet Craig’s gaze. Tim is staring at him, as if he wants to murder him, and Craig isn’t helping by shooting smirks towards him.

“Don’t pay attention to him.”

“I’m not,” Tim says with a scoff. “I couldn’t care less about him. I know how much you prefer brunettes, anyway.”

Hawk laughs because it’s true. “That’s why I fell in—” He stops himself after he realizes what he was about to say. “Let’s get away from here.”

“I was really enjoying my company before you told him to go away,” Tim retorts. “Maybe I should just go home with him instead.”

Hawk clenches his jaw, immediately recalling that time when Tim confessed he kissed a man, saying how that man wanted him. He remembers how much he wanted to go find the man who kissed Tim and choke him, throw him in a headlock for touching what was his.

“No.”

“No, what?” Tim challenges.

“No, you’re not going home with anyone else but me.”

Tim smiles because he knows he’s gained some control over Hawk. “Why is that?”

Hawk leans into Tim’s ear and whispers, “because you. are. mine.”

Tim closes his eyes and shudders at Hawk’s voice, at his breath blowing against his ear. “I’m yours?”

“Mhm. You’re learning. Again.”

Tim leans his head into the nape of Hawk’s neck. “Need you,” he confesses, sounding like a helpless, needy man without an ounce of dignity in him.

Hawk grins and starts looking around for an empty room, because he can’t wait either. He needs Tim right now. He looks around and sees the janitors closet. He grabs Tim’s hand and rushes them into the closet.

When he closes the door, he turns to Tim, rage rushing over him again. “You really think you can let another man kiss you? Touch you?” Hawk says through his gritted teeth, staring at Tim with anger.

Before Tim can say a damn word, Hawk puts his lips on Tim’s. He moves hastily, needing to feel Tim’s soft lips and tongue against his own. “Fuck,” he mutters needily against Tim’s mouth, remembering how good the younger felt, how sweet he tasted.

“I missed you, Skippy.” Hawk didn’t mean to get vulnerable but he can’t help it. It’s been over a year since he’s touched and spoken to Tim. That’s too long. “Fucking missed you.”

Tim’s smiling, loving every second of Hawk’s worship. “Missed you,” he mumbles, too tipsy and euphoric to say a coherent sentence.

“Turn around, Skippy,” Hawk commands.

Tim obeys. What’s new?

Hawk licks his hands and lubricates the Tim’s entrance and his cock. He leans onto Tim’s back and before thrusting into him, he asks huskily, “Who do you belong to?”

Tim whimpers instantly from the question and the anticipation of being fucked by a man he’s loved forever. “You,” he answers.

Hawk finally thrusts into Tim, relishing the sound of the younger’s moans. How I missed that sound. “Who do you belong to?” Hawk asks again, not satisfied just yet.

“You!” Tim screams as he holds onto the wall, shutting his eyes as he feels Hawk’s cock move against his prostate, reeling him into a pit of pure ecstasy.

“That’s right,” Hawk replies, thrusting faster. He starts spanking him, enjoying how Tim’s ass turned more red with each hit, and how his ass displayed his handprint. There’s no better way to teach Tim who he belongs to. “You belong to me. Hawkins Fuller… Say it! Say it with my name, Tim!”

“I…” Tim moans. “I belong to Hawkins fuller!”

Hawk groans loudly, thrusting harder into Tim, digging his nails into the younger’s skin as he feels his climax coming.

He leans onto Tim’s back and reaches for his cock, hearing the younger moan in pleasure as he starts to jack him off, pumping his cock in his hand.

“Mmm… Fuck! Hawk, please!”

“Please, what?” Hawk asks.

“Make me come, please,” he whimpers.

Hawk starts to pump Tim’s cock faster the same time his climax is coming, making him moan helplessly against Tim’s ear as he releases the built up tension inside of him.

“Turn around,” he orders Tim, as he pulls out of him, quickly getting on his knees. “I’m gonna finish you off.”

Tim raises his brows in surprise. Hawk was never one to really pleasure others, more keen on receiving.

Hawk wastes no time and puts Tim’s cock in his mouth, his tongue and lips sliding against the hardness, tasting him — God, he tastes so good, he thinks, groaning. He moves faster against his cock, grabbing Tim’s ass, squeezing it hard, which causes Tim to yank roughly on his hair, meaning he wants more.

“I’m—!” Tim groans, leaning his head back as his body loses control and comes into Hawk’s mouth, trembling as he fails to keep himself on his two feet. “Fuck!”

And Hawk swallows all of it.

Hawk stands up and puts his arms around Tim to help him find his balance. “You’re incredible, Skippy,” he says with a grin. “There’s no one that does it to me the way you do.”

And Hawk truly means that. Every single feeling is multiplied by the millions when he’s kissing and making love to Tim.

No one compares.

No one.

Not even Craig.

“I…” Tim is flushed. The redness growing on his face is so obvious it makes Hawk chuckle. “Thank you, Hawk.”

“Let’s go home. Go to bed. I’m fucking tired.”

Tim giggles then nods. “Ok.”

#fellow travelers #tim laughlin #hawkins fuller #jonathan bailey #matt bomer #bro who wrote this not me #🕺

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strawberrywinter4 · 8 hours

Text

So. This is part of two things.

May 15 Prompt: Nightmare, from @calaisreno’s prompt list. Check out their wonderful prompts!

AND

It’s a sneak peak for my current WIP: A Gentleman’s Shrine. You can find the post of what this fic is going to be about here.

Warnings: PTSD and Violence

A little context: This story takes place after WWI in England. John is on his way to the Noble Legacy Gala (explained in the post that I linked), and he catches himself in a nightmare.

•*•*•*•

It’s constant. Redundant. Persistent. Ceaseless.

Never-ending.

John only hears his panicked breaths, higher than normal. Dust is caught in his throat, gunfire is ringing in his ears. His sweaty hands are clinging to his rifle like it’s his one and only. Both German and English intertwine and he’s not sure which one he’s supposed to speak. He doesn’t believe he can speak.

Before John knows it, he catches a soldier’s head being pierced by a bullet, another taking the wrong step and his body detonates, blood splattering everywhere. He can’t move, or more like he doesn’t want to move because what the fuck is this?

This isn’t what he signed up for, it’s not. This doesn’t feel prosperous or close to honor. This doesn’t feel like he’s fighting for anything, let alone his country.

No, he is in the presence of hell. The Western Front is where men turn into something equivalent to animals, fighting for land they will never step foot on. It is where intelligent minds turn into a sequence of survival instincts. It is where all humanity comes to an end.

“Get up, Watson!” John barely registers a strong hand pull on his arm, hoisting him up and out of the mud mixed with blood. “You’re gonna die if you don’t–”

Whoever was speaking to him is shot to the floor, his limp body hitting the mud John was just near unconscious on. Limping away, John stumbles through the trench, looking for…something. Or was it someone? Was he even looking for anything in the first place? What was he searching for? What was he after? What is the point?

Someone charges after him with a close—combat knife, and John holds his rifle up and shoots. He shoots the man. He’s dead. He’s–

No. No, no, no. What has he done? What has he–

John kneels down next to the man, checking vital signs, as if that will accomplish anything. He hears him mutter something in German, but John doesn’t understand, he doesn’t understand anything. Realizing he’s doing everything in the wrong order, John tries to press down on the wound and attempts to stop the flow, but it's no use. When a river begins, it doesn’t cease.

John sobs, repeating an apology that won’t do any good. He’s a doctor, he’s trained for this, he can help. He can help, he can sort this out and get this man to safety because he has a family at home and they’re waiting for him. They’re waiting for him and John’s made their wait worth nothing.

This is wrong, this is all wrong. He wants to go home. He wants to go back to Mum and Harry. He doesn’t want to forget the feeling of sitting at the dinner table and eating his mum’s soup.

Keep the pressure, keep the pressure. Don’t let this man die.

He doesn’t want to forget the voice of his sister, cracking jokes and hearing his mum scold her for the inappropriate ones.

The man is dead, but John doesn’t stop the pressure. He will never stop. He will never stop apologizing, and he will never forget the man muttering in German, “Please, God, let me live.”

——

John screams as he wakes, jolting up in his seat. He takes several deep breaths, trying to calm himself, return to a leveled mindset that he didn’t have during the war.

“Sir?” a man’s voice asks. “Sir, are you well?” He puts a hand on John’s shoulder and John flinches away. Realizing his rude behavior, John forces himself to lose the tension in his body, shifting in his seat. He swallows.

“Uh–yes. Yes, I apologize. I…” John looks around the train, seeing the other participants staring at him with horrified expressions. Mothers hold their children tightly and fathers grace him with disturbed looks. John forces his eyes to the crew member, who seems unsure of what to do in this position. “Only a nightmare,” John dismisses, clearing his throat.

“Should…we move you to another cart?” the man asks, eyes flickering to the other people seated.

John’s jaw clicks. “No, this isn’t to happen again, I assure you. I’ll be fine here.”

With hesitance, the man nods. “Alright, then. Would you care for any refreshments?”

“No,” John says. “Thank you.” The man leaves and John’s face burns. He’s made a fool of himself, he never should have fallen asleep, no matter how long the journey is.

Everyone in the cart begins to forget about the outburst, going back to their conversations or finishing their small meals. John rests his head on the back of his seat and stares out the window, watching plains of grass pass by and sheep being heard.

John should soon be arriving at the next train station soon enough. He closes his eyes, wondering what his life has become.

*•*•*•*

I hope you all enjoyed this little sneak peak! I saw the prompt for today and thought it was perfect for this. This fic is currently in the works and I promise that it includes a lot of research, not just assumptions or blind facts, haha. So I’m certainly trying my best ❤️

Tags: @a-victorian-girl @whatnext2020 @totallysilvergirl @thegildedbee @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @jawnn-watson @blogstandbygo @lisbeth-kk @holmesianlove @7-percent @itsonlytext @chinike @peanitbear @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @ghostofnuggetspast @dw91165 @jolieblack @gwendelaneyisjohnlocked @cortina @kettykika78 @johnlockbbc

(Let me know if you want to be tagged in the future)

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do-androids-dream-ao3acc · 13 hours

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Well here are two for you.

Transfer thoughts and feelings when Buck considers joining the 217.

Anchor - for dating a pilot, Buck, never seen or dated someone so ground and stable as his boyfriend.

Hellloooooo sorry for being slow, this is finally my filling of another BuckTommy prompt! Nonny, I worked with your second one here and I'm afraid that the first one is probably not gonna happen, my muse is not striking there at all. Sorry about that! 3 more prompts are gonna come, no worries.

TLDR: Another BuckTommy, this time another approach on S07e07.

Exceptional

–– I won't deny the lies and deception I've sought, I've learned, I've grown ––

"Eddie's acting weird lately," Buck says.

"Do we have to talk about Eddie now?" asks Tommy, and the question is justified.

Buck's couch is just big enough for him to lie stretched out on it, his head in Tommy's lap. They just had an excellent meal, and satiety, contentment plus a good helping of wine lulled them both into a very pleasant mood. The kind of vibe that will make more of Tommy's gentle kneading of Buck's shoulders in no time – though talking about another guy is a bit of a mood killer in the process.

However, turns out that conversations about Eddie are unavoidable if you’re with Buck. And maybe there's something to it, because he adds, "I think he lied to me."

Something in his voice seems to catch Tommy's attention, he bends over to look at Buck. Those blue eyes are mesmerizing, and Buck would be willing to forget about it, to make Eddie a problem for another day. But Tommy... he's just too observant. He knows that Buck's trust is almost boundless, and that he’s fragile, should it be shaken.

"Why would Eddie lie to you?"

Another valid question.

"Something doesn't add up," Buck begins, and because he starts gesticulating wildly, Tommy captures his hands gently and holds them tight. "Christopher says Eddie bought a scented candle. What does he need that for?"

"Maybe he likes the scent, Evan."

"He's also been really nervous lately."

"Stressful job?" offers Tommy, definitely the voice of reason.

Although the subject is effectively over – for this evening – because Buck can't resist those blue eyes or those talented hands, he can't get the matter out of his head. Tommy thinks he should just ask Eddie, but how on earth is he supposed to do that? Buck realizes that his evidence for "Eddie's been weird lately" is very thin, and buying scented candles or acting suspicious is not a crime.

But the pieces of the puzzle are adding up, albeit very slowly. Christoper says, Eddie washes his clothes every night, yet he used to hate even his weekly washing day. Athena casually remarks that she saw Eddie's doppelganger in Silver Lake. Because it couldn't have been Eddie, he thinks Silver Lake is overly hip and expensive, and he prefers completely different restaurants than the one where Athena saw someone who looked very similar to him. Strangely similar, that's for sure. Hen says that she collided with Eddie while reloading the firetruck, and he reacted weirdly when she asked him about a key ring he accidentally dropped and she had never seen on him before.

The incidents pile up, and the 118 begins to worry. Tommy, although permanently in Buck's thoughts, hovers on the sidelines as far as the 118 is concerned, and his and Buck’s crazy shift schedules ensure that he doesn't catch much. He is therefore totally unprepared when, after what seems like an eternity, they finally have an evening off together and he is greeted at the door by Buck with, "Eddie's cheating."

Buck, contrary to popular belief that probably only exists in his own mind, is not an idiot, and he's completely smitten with Tommy. He knows it's not the smartest (or even the most polite) move to greet his love interest with another guy's name, even before the welcoming kiss. Buck is just so distressed, it makes him jittery. And he knows that Tommy has every right to be at least surprised, but more likely annoyed.

Tommy, however, doesn't even raise his brows at this greeting, and he is neither surprised, confused, annoyed nor offended. He just enters the loft, closes the door, looks at Buck attentively, and puts a hand on his arm (all the fine hairs there rise up) saying, "You're upset, Evan." Then he gently leads him to the sofa, they sit down, and Buck thinks, yes, indeed, I am.

It's just that he didn't expect this reaction. Buck knows he's a nervous wreck when things go differently than expected. For the most part, he has himself under control, he has adapted strategies, although his therapist describes this as evasive masking. But these strategies are usually necessary, because Buck has often run into walls. He's been told he's annoying, exhausting, overreacting and a dozen other unflattering things. Never before has someone he cares so much about taken him so seriously.

Tommy just lets Buck talk. Buck gives him his spiel on everything he knows about what happened, and it’s a confusing story about an Eddie’s-dead wife-lookalike. And then he drops the bombshell, at least that's how he feels, by saying, "I did that once, Tommy."

"You dated a doppelganger?"

"I'm serious," Buck says, but he can’t really blame Tommy for seeking to lighten the mood in this absolutely muddled affair. "I cheated."

He doesn’t elaborate, because this is nothing he likes to think back on. None of his best moments, definitely. And what kind of confession is that anyway? Is this something you tell someone you've only been out with a few times, had a few nice (hot) nights with? Rather, is this something you tell someone you care so much about? But maybe just then, Buck thinks. Maybe just then.

"You're scared," Tommy says, and it hits Buck to the core.

There's an icy knot in his stomach since Eddie told him the truth, and it finally has a name. The nervousness, his restlessness, all that shrinks into a single feeling, even if it doesn't make it any easier. Fear doesn't disappear just because it's recognized.

"Evan," Tommy says, and the care in his voice almost melts Buck, "I'm not afraid you'll cheat."

Buck takes a breath, but the words that were already on the tip of his tongue have suddenly vanished. That’s a strange thing to say, isn’t it? Just now, Buck’s confessed he cheated on a former lover, and most people would probably have replied reflexively that he had nothing to fear, that they would never do that to him. Even though it was him who cheated.

"How can you be so sure?" Buck returns, and strangely enough, he’s almost angry.

Because, let's break it down, Buck, when it comes down to it, the people he cares about will not want him, and they’ll leave. And if they don't, then he will leave; save himself the pain, because there has already been enough of that. He already knows what they will say, how they will react, doesn't he? Only... it’s different, it’s so different with Tommy.

Eyes as blue as a mountain lake, muscles saying don't mess with me, gentle words yet pithy charisma: inwardly and outwardly, Tommy is quite contradictory. But an enigma he’s not. A rock, Buck thinks, yes. That's what he is.

"I'm sure," Tommy replies with a confident smile, "because you want me as much as I want you."

Buck falls apart in the most pleasant way. Because that’s true. In all this mess, that is perhaps the only truth. Yes, Eddie lied, yes, the man cheated on his girlfriend, and yes, the parallels are scary because it's clear Eddie is shying away from a relationship. Eddie doesn't fall in love half as fast as Buck does, and he has certain morals and standards, and he has Christopher; all of that makes the affair seem so scary.

But Buck finally realizes that this can be solved. Eddie isn't just his friend, he's family, because family isn't what you're born into. Family can be a group of people who trust each other, and you don’t leave them alone, you take care of them and pounce on problems together.

And what is Tommy in all this?

Tommy with his loving gaze, his hand resting on Buck's arm, his thoughts only on Buck. Tommy, who doesn’t think he’s a nuisance because he’s talking about Eddie; he thinks Buck cares, and that’s valuable.

Tommy, somehow, is all of this and way more. For a pilot, Buck has never seen anybody so grounded, so stable as his boyfriend. Above all, he has never experienced anyone bring him down to earth so quickly, so easily and with such an inimitable look. His fear hasn't completely disappeared, perhaps that's quite impossible, but it's buried far, far down in a heap of thoughts that now revolve mainly around Tommy. He doesn't deserve the man at all. But he doesn’t voice this thought, because he allows himself a little selfishness. After all, Buck was struck by lightning and came back to life, only to be struck a second time. By Tommy.

"That's right," he says quietly, and then, as if it were a very sudden, very exhilarating realization, he repeats it, louder. "It's true. I want you."

Lock, stock and barrel, he thinks, and now his boyfriend finally gets what he deserves: all of Buck’s attention, all his care and affection.

Oh, and a kiss.

#writing #fanfiction #my fics #BuckTommy #Buck x Tommy #Buck/Tommy #9-1-1 #9-1-1 abc #9-1-1 fanfiction #Tommy x Buck #firepilot #tevan #evan buckley #tommy kinard

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