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anonquack · 3 years

Text

| Chef Q |

Alex Quackity x Reader, Oneshot, Requested by: @anotherdreamsimp !!

Word Count: 3328

Warnings: Some curse words, mainly just some fluff !

Summary: Quackity hasn't been streaming recently, and decides to come back with a cooking stream. Featuring you as a special guest.

Lately, Quackity had been studying like crazy for his final exams. That meant no streaming. He'd take a break from it to focus entirely on his studies. Absolutely nothing else.

He claimed to have his priorities straight, and had the goal to pass all exams with high scores in order to keep his grades looking wonderful.

This also meant there was rarely any time spent between you two, beside the occasional snack breaks you forced him to take so he wouldn't die at his desk.

It was tough not being able to show him a random video you'd found on the timeline, or walking up to chat with him whenever you wanted, but you knew this was very important to him. So you gladly supported him and offered as much support as possible.

Thankfully, all of his studying paid off and he passed with flying colors. A teacher had even informed him that he'd received the top score for one of his final exams.

You were the first person to hear the news, and you couldn't help but feel the adoration coursing through your body at how excited he was to tell you. Jumping up and down and shaking you lightly as he told you about his scores.

You'd offered to take him out for a celebratory meal, to treat him for all his hard work and also since you missed the fun outings with him. There was no way he was saying no to that.

—

After a day out and about, you two had made your way back home. Both of you were pleasantly full, having enjoyed the meal and also dessert. His request, for "doing so well on his finals." How could you possibly deny him that?

You both were also very content, a warmth and comfort surrounding the air around you two the entirety of the outing.

One thing that was impossible not to notice was how he'd become exceptionally clingy as soon as you two were out of the car. Gripping onto your hand tightly as you singlehandedly unlocked the front door.

"I've missed you so much these past few days." He murmered as you finally got the door to open and pulled him inside.

"I've missed you too." You hummed softly. It was always nice hearing him say these things. You locked the front door, and gently pulled at his hand to lead him back to your room.

It didn't take much of a pull for him to willingly follow you. "Can we cuddle or something?" He asked softly, almost as if he was a bit embarrassed to ask. You turned to him and gave him a grin, along with a small nod.

You'd missed him, even if you two had been in the same apartment this whole time. You'd especially been missing cuddles with him, considering he studied pretty much all day. There wasn't enough time being shared together so you gladly agreed to some cuddling.

Sooner than later, you two found yourselves in your pajamas, laying in bed peacefully as you scrolled through tiktok, screen tilted in order for him to see as well. It really was so nice finally being able to be this close to him again.

After some time, you found yourself looking through tweets on the timeline. A certain one caught his attention and he asked you to stop scrolling.

It was a tweet from a fan, saying they missed Quackity since he hadn't streamed in two weeks, but that overall they hoped his tests were going fine.

"Has it really been 2 weeks?" He asked aloud as he clicked on it and looked through the replies, all agreeing with the original tweet.

"Mm.. two and a half, I think." You answered, looking at him curiously as a guilty expression appeared on his face.

"Hey." You called out once you saw the expression wasn't leaving. He turned to you with a small frown.

"It's fine. You had a good reason for being gone so long. I'm sure they understand. Plus, you'll be back soon, right?" You asked, to which he nodded before sitting up from the cuddling position you two were in.

You sat up as well, noticing how his eyes widened slightly, and a small smile made its way onto his face.

"I just got a great idea." He exclaimed. "Y'know, I was going to just spend the next few days with you since I missed you but– how about we stream something together? That way I can enjoy both, and the fans get a stream too."

You stared at him in surprise. The fans did know he was dating someone, but you rarely ever came out on streams, not because he didn't want you to but because you didn't deem it to be necessary.

The few times you had been on, you'd received tons of love and support from the chat, so you didn't think anything too bad would happen if you were to appear on his stream again.

"What did you have in mind?" You asked curiously. The other times you'd been on were him playing horror games and an extremely scuffed IRL stream.

"Well.. I haven't done a cooking stream in a while." He began, but you quickly shook your head.

"Oh no. Don't tell me you're going to make us eat some monstrosity‐ like your past cooking streams." You visibly shuddered at the thought. You remember having to help clean up the mess after. And no matter how funny it had been, the actual cleanup was awful.

"No no– I was thinking maybe we do a serious one, y'know? Chat hasn't really been able to see my cooking abilities, and well.. I'd say I am pretty good at it." He grinned. He was unfortunately right.

You relaxed at the mention of it being a 'serious' cooking stream. It could never really be too serious when it came to Quackity, but it meant not eating dog food or poorly made pizza. You were in.

"So we'll make an actual.. edible.. meal?" You questioned again, just to be sure. To which he nodded.

"Yeah, and we can enjoy that meal after. Like a date. What do you say?" He was beaming. It was his creativity rolling in. And he was probably so proud of himself for finding a way to spend time with you yet also give chat the stream content they'd been missing out on.

"Alright. I'm in."

You hadn't seen him this eager to get out of bed and head to the grocery store ever before. Chat was really in for a fun stream tomorrow.

—

He'd tweeted it out several hours before you two planned on starting the stream that he'd be streaming today with a special guest, and that he had his chef hat ready to go.

As you scrolled through Twitter you could see the timeline freaking out over 'COOKING STREAM' and 'SPECIAL GUEST'. Lots of discussion over who it was.

You couldn't help but feel a bit bad since the fans were probably speculating that he'd met up with his online friends, but in reality it was just you. In that case, you'd try your best to make this a fun stream, and your presence an enjoyable one.

As the time for the stream to start got closer, you helped him set the ingredients you'd be using onto the table, in a way where it was in perfect view for the stream to see and follow along if they wished.

"We're supposed to start in 5." You called out as he slipped his beanie on, fixing the few hair strands that were sticking out a bit too much.

He smiled and made his way over to you, cupping your face and giving you a small kiss. "I'm so excited to do some cooking with you. They're all going to love you."

You couldn't help the warm feeling that spread over your chest at his words. It was like introducing you all over again. He'd recently gained a lot of new followers, and that meant they probably had no idea who you were. Always fun going through that again.

He dealt with some last minute editing and placing, checking all ingredients were there and that everything was set, before hitting the 'Go Live' button.

It didn't take long for the viewers to increase after the tweet notification went out, and the starting soon screen was the only thing really protecting you two from the roaring chat.

Everyone was dying to know what was going on, who the special guest was, and whether this would be yet another scuffed cooking stream.

You stood behind the camera as the starting soon screen finally disappeared and he began greeting the viewers, thanking all the subs coming in, and eventually also giving them a little update on how he'd done on his exams.

You felt so proud as you watched him boast about how his studying had paid off, and how he talked about being the happiest he'd been in a while. He deserved all of it. And chat thought so too.

After some rambling about his test scores and what they'd be cooking today, chat finally became too impatient and asked for a reveal of the special guest.

"Fine. Fine. Since you guys are so fucking impatient." He huffed, watching as chat flew by, telling him to 'get on with it' and to 'TELL US WHO IT IS'. You couldn't help but laugh at the relationship he had with his chat. Always bullying each other but usually knowing when to stop and send love.

"I've actually had them on multiple other streams, not so much recently.. but they've been on my horror streams.. some IRL streams.. and they are really really special to me, chat!" He said with a big smile. Some of chat was confused as to who he was referring to, while older fans began to question if it was YOU. They were very smart.

"Some of the viewers might not know of them, so this is like I'm introducing them to chat all over again! Come over here." He finally directed the last part at you. You couldn't help but feel the sudden spike in anxiety, but chose to ignore it as you smiled back at him and headed into the frame beside him.

With a small wave and a greeting, you watched as chat completely broke. A mess of question marks and your name being spread in chat. You couldn't help but laugh. It was an overwhelmingly positive reaction as Quackity explained to new viewers that you were his partner, and that older fans were already aware of this for a while now.

The amount of 'y/n our beloved' and people asking if quackity's partner was single were abundant in chat, and you couldn't help but feel stupid for thinking the newer viewers would hate you or something.

Having the approval of Quackity's chat also made you feel lighter, it made it easier to let go and just enjoy the cooking stream.

You two began to explain what you'd be cooking to chat, and you made it very clear that he actually had to try and cook this time, to which chat agreed wholeheartedly.

He'd taken a recipe from his mom for one of his favorite meals, one he hadn't had in a while. He explained to chat that he wanted to see how well you and him could recreate it until you two took a trip to visit his family.

"Hopefully we don't disappoint her too much." You mumbled as he placed the chef hat onto your head, fixing it so you looked presentable.

"She can't be because we're actually gonna try." He stated before beginning to explain to chat what the meal was since many of them might not have even heard of it before. As he did that, you began to set aside the ingredients you wouldn't be needing until later.

After everything had been explained, it was time to get cooking. His concentration to try and recreate his mom's recipe was adorable, and chat agreed on that too.

This stream wasn't loud and messy like the others, but it was still enjoyable in its own way. Quackity was radiating such wonderful light and energy, cracking jokes and genuinely enjoying himself. It was all thanks to the stress and worries being lifted off his back. You really enjoyed seeing him like this.

Chat was able to follow along later if they wanted with how organized you guys were being, but the banter he had with you and chat made it entertaining to any casual viewer. He always found a way to make it fun.

Not only that, but chat was able to see a new side of him. The Chef Q side. More often than not, a message would roll in saying they were amazed by how good Quackity actually was at cooking. You could already imagine some of the edits that'd come out of the stream.

His mom had told you two beforehand how long it would normally take to cook this meal, and it was perfect for a usual stream and some extras where you two would actually get to try the food.

There was moments where chat was warning you two that the food would burn or that he'd accidentally set the kitchen on fire, but overall you were enjoying yourself so much.

And chat was enjoying your presence too!

By the time you two managed to finish the meal, you both plopped down onto the chairs he'd set for the supposed 'breaks'.

He had some of the sauce on his cheek and his apron, but still managed to look good. He'd also smeared sauce onto your cheek, and at this point some strands were sticking out of your hat in such a messy way since the last few minutes had been rather hectic, food almost burning and all.

"Chat. We did it." He called out before cheering loudly and clapping his hands, to which you swiftly followed along, chat beginning to cheer as well.

"I think its only right that we try what we made, don't you think?" You ask, to which chat quickly types YES in all caps, wanting to see the finished product and also find out if it even tastes good.

Quackity let out a chuckle as he smiled over at you. "Not gonna lie, I'm a little nervous. We haven't even seen it so it might just be black. Burnt to a crisp. Or what if it tastes like shit? Y/N i don't know what I'm going to do if the food tastes like shit. Thats what we're supposed to eat on our date." He whined a bit.

You shook your head, "It'll be great. And if not, we can just order takeout. It'll be fine big q." You smiled reassuringly. Chat became a frenzy of calling him cute for the state he was in, declaring their love for how supportive and kind you were, and melting over your relationship.

Before you knew it, you were both revealing the meal to chat, and pleasantly surprised by the results. The presentation of the meal itself looked really good. It looked like what you'd expect from such a plate. Quackity had even gone as far as saying it looked similar to how his mom made it.

You gasped, smiling in surprise at him. "Really? Did we really do that good of a job." His face turned into one of regret, and a long segment of silence engulfed you two before he nodded hesitantly. You both broke out into a fit of laughter.

"Okay okay, seriously. Chat's waiting for you to try it." You placed a fork in front of him, earning a loud scoff from him.

"They want to see you try it as well." He mirrored your actions and you gladly took the fork.

"Alright. First bite. Let's see if all our hard work paid off! Chat, are you ready?" You grinned and watched as the 'YES's started rolling in, some viewers telling you both to get the fuck on with it, and others gushing about how the food actually looked good. You could only hope.

You watched as he began to dig in, mouth full and chewing slowly, truly trying to savor the first bite. You did the same, and the stream was silent for the first time in a while. Chat was in suspense as well, question marks and incoherent rambling rolling through the chat.

"Chat..." he finally spoke after swallowing his bite. "Chat. It's." He paused before showing a small smile. "It's not bad at all. I like it. It's good."

You nodded your head in agreement, "It's nowhere near as good as the ones your mom makes.. but I think you and I make a pretty good team."

"I think so too. And not just for cooking." He grinned, earning himself a playful eye roll and shy smile from you.

The stream proceeded to you two feeding each other bites of the meal, asking each other if it was good, and just enjoying yourselves for a bit longer before Quackity deemed it was time to end.

"Chat !! Thank you so much for tuning in and watching this.. actually coordinated cooking stream. I had so much fun and well, I ate yummy food. I'm happy." He laughed, thanking a few more gifters before doing his signature Bye, and ending stream.

He hurried over to your side, pulling you into a hug. "Thank you so much. I truly had fun. And they definitely loved you, but not nearly as much as I do."

You chuckled at his words, giving him a small kiss before cupping his face. "I had a lot of fun too. Thank you for always being so nice to me." You paused, observing how cute he looked with his chef hat still on. "I think I like Chef Alex." You reached over and fixed his hat a bit.

"Yeah? Should I keep it on?" He teased, coming a bit closer. You couldn't help the warmth that spread over your cheeks at how blunt he was.

"Yes, but you need to help me clean this up. Maybe after we finish the food, hm? C'mon. Don't think I forgot our deal."

He whined, already feeling too lazy, but he quickly followed after you as you two sat down to actually eat. Still wearing the silly attire he'd bought for the stream, far too unbothered to change just yet.

Through a mouthful he asked, "Cuddles and a nap after we're done?"

You smiled and nodded, to which he gave a silent cheer. That was enough motivation to get you both up and cleaning after finishing the meal.

—

Wrapped in each other's arms again. He couldn't seem to get enough of it. You were once again scrolling through Twitter, this time scrolling through his indirects, wanting to see what people were saying about the stream.

He'd ask you to stop to read certain ones he found funny, and even 'aww'd at the ones he found cute, mainly those talking about how cute you two looked.

Surely enough, there was already edits using the clips of him cooking, and you'd openly admitted to him that he looked "so fucking good." To which he responded by cuddling closer, if even humanly possible.

Quackity found the numerous clips of you two feeding each other to be the best part of the tweets. You two rewatched, saved, liked as many as you could before he became tired.

And with that, he was pulling you close, and leaving small kisses anywhere he could on your face. Eventually, his chest slowly rose and fell as he entered a deep slumber. You smiled, glad to see he was finally getting the rest he deserved.

"Goodnight, Alex." You whispered, leaving a small kiss on his cheek before closing your eyes as well.

#alex quackity #quackity #quackity x you #quackity x reader #quackity x y/n #gender neutral reader #quackity brainrot #quackity scenario #streamer #quackity headcannons #quackity imagines #chef quackity #cooking stream #quackity fluff #quackity my beloved #revealing lovers #leave some requests !!! I am accepting requests #look at me posting a few days apart wooo #quackity <3

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pufflocks · 3 years

Note

Kuroo x bottom male reader, maybe readers riding him?

Summary: Honestly in my mind–, I believe if Kuroo had someone sitting on his cock I believe he would be so touchy. Touchy and impatient— Touching the readers curves and rubbing on his thighs until he couldn't take it anymore. ♡

"You- You are so fucking tight- ugh, I love it." -T.K ❣

Warnings: Slight degrading • Groping • Cum eating • Proof read • porn without plot

Cast: Bottom!M!Reader x Kuroo Tesuro //Kenma Kozumane//

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

It was an alluring Friday. Volleyball club didn't have another practice until next week. Leaving an eventful evening afterschool for a certain couple.

"Phew I'm fuckin' exhausted-" Tetsurou exhaled stretching out his long limbs. Many people, according to Y/N would kill for his height. Yet he was always saying how much he hated it. Words only to tick his boyfriend off – which it did.

The rooster haired male slicked back his sweat covered hair. "Oi, kenma I'm gonna head out first since my oh so handsome boyfriend wanted me to take him home early." Kenma nodded quietly, chugging his water down quietly. He gathered his belongings along with the other members of the team.

'I wonder why he needs a chaperone to walk him home..' Kenma sighed. Shaking off the thought since it was not his business. Besides that he started picking up some stray volleyballs. Faster he does this the faster he gets home to play video games with his boyfriend.

You however, was just about to get out of your last period. Thinking about some random things to get out of the fact you and nekomas volleyball captain sending eachother lewd glances throughout the day. One action led to another throughout the day.

You sitting in the back of class softly giggling to yourself once while at your phone and blushing at other texts. Some texts were cute flirts like "I can't wait to see you" or "Coach is being extra angry. He needs pop a chocky milk" Leading to a raging tent in your pants in your last class period when he sent a slick nude of a boner he accumulated in the past hour. Ugh— The clock nearing 3 PM setting you slight edge in your seat.

BRING !

'Thankfully the teacher didn't see me with my phone.'

Sighing tremendously you snatched up your bag that had a cheesy volleyball sticker in nekomas colors with a big number '1' on it. Gifted by your yours truly, Tetsurou Kuroo aka rooster bf. A small nickname you gave him in your guys' first year.

You chuckled at your own humor as you bumped into someone the way out of your classroom.

"Ah-!" You failed to finish your small mental comedy show as your overly tall boyfriend encased you in a nearly bone crushing hug. Lovingly of course.

Your not so obvious erection slightly catching contact on his muscular thigh. "You scared me tetsu- Come on lets go." You grab hold of the mans hand in dire need to fix your lower situation, pronto. One think you hated about your boyfriend was how much of a tease he so unashamedly was.

You both agreed, over text to leave early to do it after class since he didn't have practice today.

"What's the rush doll ? You were just teasing me with that I wanna ride you BS over the phone." He snickered. Face automatically bloomed red as you scoffed in face. Pushy bastard he is.

"Yeah yeah. Come on before people see-" And before you knew it. Your boyfriend took one glace down south to notice you weren't lying. Your small cock pressing up against the unformed pants.

'Cute how eager he is~' he mentally mused.

He took this opportunity to just drag you to an already emptied classroom. The school seemed to empty out earlier on Fridays, you thought. Slowly coming back to your own senses you see just how peckish he really was. Air thickening. Your noticable shudders of arousal not going unnoticed.

"God,, I need you right now." No other words were conversed between you two as he eagerly ripped and tugged the cloth off your smaller frame. Canines slightly nipping at now heated skin and grabbing wherever his hands could easily roam. Sloppy kisses to your neck making you gasp and make your penis twitch in gratitude.

"Please tetsu.. I want it badly~" You moaned wantonly as he was gripping some belly fat lovingly. Tetsurou grinned as if he was a wolf in the night howling at the moon.

Grabbing a nearby chair, after he let you go with a small peck to your nose he sat down and shrugged off his trousers. Hard organ slapping on his lean stomach. The sight making you purr in the presence of this 'wolf'

'I can't wait to fucking ride him..'

The sight of his cock made you rub your legs together eagerly. A small "Hm..~" erupting from your throat. Oh god did it not only have girth and a red bulge of its head – His length and overall cock had been mesmerized in your small pink hole.

"Wanna ride you Tetsu.." you mewled already palming the hard on in your now very tight pants.

He pulled you closer and gripped your chin to make you look at him as he stroked his cock teasingly, "Wanna ride me dry and see if you can come undone or vise verse but you blow me ? Which is it sweetheart ?" Darting dark eyes your way as he audibly purred. Kind to not so kind kisses being placed to your collarbone making you shiver as his cold lips met your hot skin.

New hickies you never minded showing off, just as much as he never minded giving you to show off.

The choices were hanging heavy on your tongue, now realizing his question. Almost obediently, in one swift motion you got down your knees willingly let him unravel you with his slim eyes.

"Such a lucky ass man I am~"

Fuck you wanted him so bad.

"You gonna blow me my pretty Y/N ?" He said stroking your cheek as if you were the most rarest diamond from his thief heist. To him you were not only rare, but valuable beyond his mind.

Grasping hold of his member you lick up his shaft kissing here and there. Making quick work to get to the main course.

Tetsurou smiled. His pretty boy serving his cock like it was something holy. Before he knew it you started gulping down his length. Slobber dribbling at the creases of your mouth. Pretty eyes of yours making their ways to your rooster headed lover.

"Fuck-! Baby I'ma fuckin' cum-" He groaned, head flying backward as you got off hearing him announce he was gonna shoot down your throat. Swallowing every. Single. Drop.

"Shit.. You gonna take daddies cum baby ? Yeah ? Where you want it ? Tell me babes." He was tapping his cock against your now plump and messy lips as he stroked himself off to your filthy face. Fuck, he was using your face for his own pleasure. You wanted him to know how much you enjoyed this.

"Mm- I want it in my mouth!~ please stick your cock deep down my throat daddy!~" You whined pathetically stroking your own leaking cock and using your own arousal for lube. The lewd squlching noises invading your ears.

He snorted at your poor attempts at getting yourself off and opened your jaw enough to shove all the way in down your throat. Tears prickling and threatening to fall down your face. You let out small gags leading to moans from the action as he shot down your throat. You swallowed his seed successfully, sticking out your tongue to show you did.

"Such a pretty boy.. Fuck such pretty boy." Tetsurou praised as he wiped the tears you ignored from your puffy eyes. Also unnoticing the ringing one of your phones was doing. You didn't care though. "We ain't done yet though. Get your sweet ass up here my prince." You joyfully obliged as he helped you off your knees seeing they were red. He started rubbing small circles and kissing your bare shoulders. A way of saying sorry for making you be on yourknees for so long.

'So caring~' You groggily giggled to yourself due to your throat being slightly sore from your guys' previous actions. Damn he was rough this time. Does being found out really get him this riled up ?

He cocked an eyebrow, "What's wrong ? Did a do something silly ?" He wore his signature smirk. The one you loved and hated. A calming and goofy aura being replaced with the once heated lustful one. All you could do was giggle again and cup his face in the moment. Just enjoying him.

"You're just so caring with me and I love you for moments like these." You confessed. Heart beating erratically as he chuckled kissing your nose.

"I know. I'm a big ass softy for my boyfriend believe it or not." You rolled your eyes jokingly. You loved this man, but you also loved his cock which by the way, still hasn't gone soft yet.

Turning around in his lap you wrapped your arms and legs around his form as you whispered alluringly. "Let me do the work cuz my dick is aching now and I needa cum stupid bad." You smiled devilishly. He once again for the umpteenth time, chuckled at your words and throwing his hands up.

"No hands my prince. No hands." You nodded. Knowing full well he would lose it half way of your quote unquote dominance.

You slowly and steadily began inserting his member inside. God, the stretch you fucking waited for was heavenly. Making it all the more nearly impossible to not close your eyes in delight.

Sucking through his teeth your boyfriend let out a long "Fuuuck..~" as groaned instinctively grasping onto your hips. On a loose thread of keeping his promise of letting you in control.

"God, you're so fucking- huge-! Testu~" You whined already grinding the rest of length into your now gaping hole. The feeling all too familiar to your body. Soon beginning to bounce up and down with pure greed. Not giving the slightest flying fuck if someone were to see you through the small class window as you were rolling your eyes back in ecstasy like a expert porn star.

"You- You're so fucking tight.. Ugh- fuck I love it !~" He moaned out aggressively as your bouncing only quickened at his words slapping sounds got louder. "Who's fucking cock are you riding Y/N ?" He growled and huffed bear your neck. His breath tickling the hairs in the area.

Noticing he didn't get any answer to his no rhetorical question, Tesurou slapped your ass harshly leaving a delicious itchy feeling rupture in the spot his heavy hand slammed on. You lost it as an almost unbearable amount of pre ran down your cock.

"You- Ah!~ Fuck it's you Testu!~ Your cock- Ah-!~ is hitting me in all the right places oh my fucking god!-" You shrieked small little tears making their way down your ruined face.

'This slut is really egging me the fuck on today~' Tetsurou mentally grinned.

Not only did he like the words coming out of your mouth, but he lived for those damn tears of diamond racing out the corners of your eyes. "

"Fuck it. I'm pounding the shit out of this ass." He mumbled to himself as he snatched you off of his body as if it was completely nothing and pressed you forward on a desk, your perky nipples grazing the cold school furniture.

He took a second to adjust his angle until ramming into your prostate directly dead on as you let out a high pitched warble. Anyone could mistake your voice for a females out of context. "Fuck-! fuck- MM— FUCK YES~" you moaned as your cock swung heavily in between your legs as Tetsurou began deep stroking every corner inside you. The feelings making your mind go numb.

"Baby boy I'm finna blow my load~ Who the fuck is fucking your shit up right ? Huh ?~" Testu's snarled in your ear. Snatching you up by your neck up to his sweaty hard chest. Your bodies creating an almost unbearable heat between you both.

You whined in a needy voice as the feeling of your prostate getting hammered repeatedly. "YOU DADDY~ YOU YOU YOU~!!! GOD LEMME CUM FUUUCK—" His grip on your neck did not falter as his pace only got faster. Quickly gripping your slick penis and jerked you off all the while placing delectable light kisses around your bruised neck and shoulders. You were nearly seeing stars with overstimulation and his contrast of touch.

"That's exactly what I like to hear my amazing boy~" Tetsurou hips stuttered as you came hard, your eyes rolling back and drool sliding down your jaw. Coming straight after your release he gave one last deep push cumming deep down in your tight little ass. "Fuck babe..- Fuck-" He panted smiling lazily, grip already faltering around your neck. He never would forgive himself if he accidentally choked you to death.

Since you guys literally just fucked in a classroom, aftercare had to be done differently. Slowly laying his head on your shoulder, rubbing your hips and doing anything to ease any after pain off your body. Maybe you'll let him try out a cream he uses on himself after volleyball. Eases the joints and moisturizes your body.

Such a loving boyfriend you bad.

"I love you so damn stinkn' much Y/N.. God I'm so fucking lucky I swear." You chuckled, 'cause he always seemed to be so emotional after you guys had sex. You thought it was cute coming from him. "Let's get out of here cuz' we already stayed here for half an hour." You stated pushing the tall male off your body, much to his unpleasant dismay. He only hummed in response.

"Your house or mine ?" He questioned after pulling up his pants and tugging his extra volleyball shirt on. You stretched while yawning a bit. Sex is tiring.

"Yours. My parents will automatically smell the sex on me and no cologne can cover that." Giggling softly at your statement your boyfriend nodding in a agreement.

"Let's just hope they dont find out we once fucked in your living room-" You glared at him as he stopped, snickering at how cute his boyfriend looked after being roughed up.

"Let's go so we can cuddle now please." You softly pleaded as you tugged his shirt tiredly. You know the first thing you were gonna do when you got to his house was instantly plop smack on his oversized bed.

"Let's go my prince."

Bees are pretty..

Zenna, no.

#male reader #hq kuroo #kuroo x reader #kuroo x male reader #haikyuu x male reader #x reader #haikyuu smut #smut #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x you

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Text

A Deafened Bard (Stephen Strange x Female!Reader) pt. 2

Doctor Strange and y/n confide their tragic backstories in one another. Y/n struggles with her feelings for him.

Trigger warnings: abusive parenting, use of firearms, discussion of death and grief, mention of alcoholism

"On the outside, always looking in

Will I ever be more than I've always been?

Cause I'm tap, tap, tapping on the glass-"

You stopped yourself before you could indulgently belt out the titular lyric.

"Ew, why was I singing that?" You muttered to yourself. "I don't even like that song."

You knew, subconsciously, that it was because you were trying to avoid what you really wanted to sing. For the first time ever, you had an audience. Someone was paying attention.

"Love of my life, you've hurt me-"

"Oh, come on, butterfingers." He interrupted. "Love of my Life by Freddie Mercury. Give me something hard."

"I wasn't aware it was classic rock trivia night."

"Then why were you staring straight at me while singing?" He smirked.

"Was I?" You cocked your head, expertly deflecting his implication. "I'm so spaced out I don't even know where I'm looking."

"It's Freddie Mercury." He insisted.

"Uh, yes and no." You corrected, drawing on your encyclopedic knowledge of Queen from one particularly weird summer in high school. "While Freddie Mercury wrote the song, it was recorded on a Night at the Opera. Which was accredited to the whole band."

"That's a nitpick," he shook his head. "I'm still right."

You couldn't wear your heart on your sleeve anymore. You could only distract him with 70s glam rock trivia for so long before he started to notice a pattern. Although a sappy love song was in your heart, you sang the anthem of the depressed theater kid.

You were staring straight at him, though. But who wouldn't? You studied his features only for artistic inspiration. His sharp jaw and high, high cheekbones were… inspiring.

You couldn't lie to yourself. You fell and fell hard.

"Butterfingers!" Master Strange called out from the other side of the sanctum. "I need you!"

You dropped your pencil and pushed yourself out from the chair. "Coming!"

You followed the voice into his chambers. This was a new development, you thought. Out of respect for his privacy, you'd never dared to snoop around in his bedroom. But this was practically a written invitation.

The room was spotless. Not a book or a scrap of paper out of place. Nor was there much to look at at all. A handful of picture frames, some magazines from when he was a surgeon, all featuring himself on the cover.

"Butterfingers!" He called again, as if he knew you were about to snoop.

"I'm here!" You yelled back, eyes wandering around the room. "What do you need?"

"I left my watch somewhere in the library!" He sounded disproportionately panicked for what was just a minor inconvenience. "I need you to go get it for me."

"What does it look like?" You asked.

"It's a $27,000 watch." He snapped impatiently. "It looks like one."

"Jesus." You cursed.

"Don't give me that shit, [F/N]." He ordered, slamming his fist down against the sink. "Just do what you're goddamn told."

"Alright, alright!" You put your hands up. "Fine, I'll get it."

You hurried down the stairs and into the library. On the floor between his favorite chair and a stack of musty old books was a slim, silvery watch with a plain black band.

You picked it up and examined it. Apart from the price tag, was there really any reason for him to be so worried about it? He knew exactly where he left it. Did he have reason to believe it wouldn't be there when he returned?

All you needed to do was flip it over to get your answer. You read the inscription on the back.

Time will tell how much I love you -- Christine

You should have known that his massive ego wouldn’t keep the women away forever. Hell, it certainly didn’t deter you. Much uglier douchebags have gotten far prettier girlfriends than they deserved.

You closed your fingers around the watch and sighed. The fantasy you created for yourself, of slowly, deliberately earning his love was shattered. Christine already beat you to it, it seemed. You tried to smother the part of you that resented this person for her exclusive right to Master Strange's affections. You didn't know her, but you loathed her. And you felt filthy for it.

With a heavy heart, you brought the stupid, criminally expensive little timepiece back to its rightful owner.

"Here's your all-important watch, master." You mumbled, placing it on the bedside table.

"I know I told you I would give you space to question things," He said, swiping it from the table and expertly affixing it around his wrist. "But I'd really appreciate it if you didn't question this."

You tried to sound as non-passive-aggressive as you could. You attempted a more forgiving tone, but you couldn't hide your hurt. "It's fine. I don't care."

"I didn't mean to get short with you, [F/N]." His voice softened. "I'm sorry. But this watch-"

"It's fine." You cut him off, peering at the floor.

"It was a gift." He finished anyway.

You felt the lump in your throat rising. You knew what the watch represented and you wanted to smash it to pieces. Along with the sting of rejection, you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. "I know. I saw the engraving."

"She died two years ago." He lowered his head.

Suddenly, all your ill will towards this woman turned into guilt.

"I'm sorry to hear that." You said. "I can't imagine what it's like to lose someone who loved you so much."

"She had agreed to come to a speaking engagement with me. As a second chance, and-" Pain wrapped his voice. He closed his hand tightly around the watch and held it close to his chest. "Have you ever been in love before, [F/N]?"

From the way your heart ached, and how easily the thought of never being with him made you cry, you knew the answer. You'd been avoiding speaking it into being thus far, but you couldn't lie to yourself anymore.

"Yes." You whispered.

"You'll learn soon enough." He muttered. "It only brings more suffering."

The tears finally breached and you tried to blink them away. You didn't know what emotion was causing them: guilt, shame, contempt, anger, sadness-- they were all present.

"Master Strange, I-" you stuttered, tripping over your breath. "I respect what you've gone through, I really do, but it's not fair to take it out on me."

"You're right." He conceded. "I'm sorry. Please, go get some sleep.”

You nodded. “Right.”

You slept as late as you could get away with the next morning. In apprentice terms, that only meant sleeping until eight thirty. Your dailies could wait an extra hour while you laid in bed, feeling like garbage.

You stumbled down the spiral staircase in your pajamas. No bra, no makeup and no effort. You didn’t even run a brush through your hair. Why try, you thought. Why make an effort for the man who would never see you as anything but the help?

When you saw the piano, though, you did a full 180.

In the living area was a French cherry baby grand piano that definitely was not there before. You certainly would have noticed it before. You placed your phone on the counter and approached the new addition.

As if the memories were woven into the very muscles and ligaments of your fingers, you ran down a few octaves of C Major. The keys were smooth as porcelain and the sound that emanated from the instrument was next to heavenly.

A bright orange post-it note was stuck to the music rack.

“Love of my Life”, Queen, A Night at the Opera. 1975

Was this a request, or an admission of wrong? Whatever the case, it made you smile.

"You weren't being entirely honest with me, Butterfingers." He said, randomly materializing behind you.

You turned around on the piano bench and looked up at him. "What was I not honest about?"

"I'm so glad you asked." He sat down on the bench next to you, phone in hand. "Because when you said you used to play piano, you didn't specify you were actually a student prodigy."

Sure enough, on his phone, he was scrolling through your Instagram. Dozens of videos of a much younger [F/N] playing hundreds of different songs, singing with too many vocal runs and doing so with the entire content of her soul behind the music.

"Student prodigy is a bit strong." You turned your head to hide your blush.

He scrolled up and found a picture of a young, zit-faced teenage [F/N] holding an acceptance letter. "Last I checked, Juilliard doesn't give full-ride scholarships to just anyone."

You covered your face with your hands, smothering an embarrassed smile. "God, please. I'd rather you'd found my OnlyFans."

He raised his eyebrows. "As tempting as that sounds, I'd still rather hear your explanation on this. Why did you give up on something you loved?"

You looked at him in surprise. "You really want to know?"

"Well, I told you mine." He playfully nudged you in the side.

You took a deep breath in. "Well, it was about two years ago, now-”

"Cheers to you, [F/N]!" Your best friend Holly raised her glass of champagne in your direction. "Juilliard ain't gonna know what hit ‘em."

"I'll drink to that." You said, bring your own flute up to your lips and taking a swig. You wretched in disgust as the vile liquid ran down your throat. "Or maybe I won't."

"You're gonna have to get used to it." Holly nudged you with her elbow. "I think most professional musicians are alcoholics."

You narrowed your eyes at her. "I don't think that's right."

"Is too." She smirked. "Conductors are mad strict. Abusive even. Drive musicians to drink all the time."

You laughed. "Is everything you know about the world of music from Whiplash?"

"And The Perfection." She added.

"Thank you, Holly." You said, attempting to take another sip of champagne, purely for dramatic effect. "Very cool."

You felt a pair of hands on your shoulders. "Hi, Holly. Enjoying the party?"

Holly took a step back. "Hey, Mrs. [L/N]. Yeah, it's great."

"I hope you don't mind," Your mom said, her fake nice voice eeking through her clenched teeth. "I need to borrow [F/N] for a few minutes."

Holly's face fell. "Sure. I'll catch up with you later, [F/N]."

Your mother tugged you off to the side. With a stressed huff, she began. "Jason is out in the fields with his ROTC friends."

"And what do you want me to do about that?" You asked, knowing her drunk self couldn't read your sarcastic tone.

"Could you go get him and bring him home?" She said, squeezing your upper arm.

"Are you kidding?" You spat.

"[F/N], he's drunk." She scolded. "Do you want him to get another strike on his record?"

"I don't care." You mumbled under your breath. "Have him call an uber. Hell, let him sleep it off in the field. Not my problem."

"You know what he's like when he's drunk." She rationalized. "He gets rowdy. It had better be you."

You tensed up. "No. Holly and I are going to the French Quarter. I don't have time to babysit Jason."

"Just pick him up on your way there?" She pleaded. "It won't take long."

You knew this wasn't going to stop. "Fine, but this is the last time."

You were both dressed far too well to be trekking through the swampy ass nowhere when you should have been fucking your way through the French Quarter. Luckily for your evening plans, all you needed to do was follow the sound of gunshots.

You slammed the car door shut and Holly followed suit. Finding him was the easy part. The hard part was hauling his drunk ass back home.

"Fun's over, shithead." You announced, heels sinking into the sod as you spoke. You didn't have much trouble projecting over the gunfire and getting their attention.

"Shit, [F/N]?" Jason sputtered, so drunk he could barely keep his head straight.

"Holy shit, I didn't even recognize you in that dress." One of his dumb fuck friends added. He jabbed Jason in the side. "Why didn't you tell me your sister's hot?"

"Buster, I-'' You clenched your teeth. "I don't care if you live or die, but my mom needs me to bring Jason home."

"If you get in the car now, we won't have to use the chloroform." Holly added.

Jason scratched the back of his head with the barrel of his gun, then pointed it at you. "You're gonna have to make me."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You exclaimed, hitting the deck. "What the fuck, Jason!?"

Jason and his dumbass friends laughed. "You should have seen the look on your face, [F/N]!"

"Put down the fucking gun-" You seethed. "And get in the fucking car."

He lowered the gun and looked like he was going to concede. Just when you thought he would cooperate, he stuck it up again. He keeled over in a fit of laughter when you and Holly panicked again.

"Look at them!" He shouted. "They're so fucking scared!"

You knew out in the middle of the swamp, nobody could hear you scream. So you used it to your advantage.

"Jason, you're going in the car, or under it." You raised your voice. "I will mow your drunk ass down like eight day old roadkill right here in this field and you will be LUCKY if anyone finds your bloated, shit-covered remains before the crocodiles get a whiff of you."

That seemed to get his attention.

"Sorry, boys." He pouted. "You heard her."

He had to 'get you' one final time, though. Only that time, the gun went off. Just centimeters from your ear. You clutched the side of your head, trying to drown out the deafening ringing with your screams.

You vaguely remembered Holly pistol-whipping Jason before loading you into the car to drive you to the hospital, leaving him desolate and drunk in the field.

"It was a one-in-a-million shot." The otolaryngologist tried not to sound impressed at what was clearly some kind of anomaly very few got to witness in a medical career. "When the bullet fired, the gunpowder traveled down your ear canal, burning the cells of your auditory nervous system and... singing your eardrum... clean off."

Your eyes widened. "Off?!"

The doctor lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Miss [L/N]. I'm afraid you'll never return to full hearing again."

You didn't want to kill the messenger. You knew she was only doing her job. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"If we could do a tympanoplasty, which, given the condition of the drum, is unlikely-" she began. "There would still be no way to fully repair the hair cells along the ear canal."

You took deep breaths to try and quell your simmering rage. "I'm leaving for Juilliard in three months."

"Hearing aid technology has improved significantly over the last decade." She said, a somewhat hopeful upturn in her voice.

That was when your mother decided to join in on the conversation. "Oh, we can't afford that."

You thought you were going to crush your teeth into bits from how tightly your jaw was clenched in fury. "Take it out of Jason's college fund, then."

"Oh, [F/N]." She said as if you had just told the funniest joke imaginable. "Please. That wouldn't be fair to Jason."

"You can afford to send that blithering idiot to the Citadel." You hissed. "You can afford to buy me a hearing aid so I can play piano."

"Beethoven was entirely deaf." Your mom pointed out. "And he became the greatest composer of all time. It's really just mind over matter, sweetie-"

"Sure, that makes perfect sense!" You plastered on a deranged smile, feeling driven to the brink of madness. "I can repair my destroyed eardrum with the power of positive thinking! Jason gets thirty-five thousand dollars a year to play soldier, but I have to just use my imagination."

She covered her face with her hands as if she was being attacked and went into kicked-puppy mode. "Don't be mad at Jason, [F/N]. He didn't mean to hurt you-"

"Fuck this." You said, releasing all your tension in those two words. "Fuck all of this. I'm tired of you defending that chauvinist asshole. The next time you see me will be when one of us is dead."

"Where are you going?!" She wailed.

You snatched your purse from the table and threw it over your shoulder. "I'm moving out."

“Disgraced at age nineteen?" Master Strange said, leaning back on the piano. "Let me guess, you turned to alcohol to cope?"

"You'd think, but actually no." You shook your head. The tone of the conversation had taken a sharp left turn from sadness to dry, apathetic amusement. "I probably would have if I could have afforded it."

"You missed out." He said. "Drinking a whole bottle of eighty year old scotch was definitely the highlight of my grieving period."

You'd never joined the clauses 'Master Strange' and 'drunk off his ass' in the same sentence before then. It was an odd mental picture for sure. One you needed to see to believe.

"I got desperate." You admitted. "Luckily, New Orleans had a lot to offer someone like me, so I didn't have to go far to find people claiming to have answers. But it was all essential oils, incense, binaural beats-"

"I'm sorry," he cut in. "What kind of dickhead suggests binaural beats to someone with only one functioning ear?"

You threw up your hands. "Right? Doesn't make sense. Anyway, I came across a woman named Mistress Fantina and she pointed me in the right direction. How to heal my body through control of my spirit."

He looked at you with that fascination of the human body characteristic of those in the medical field. "It worked, I assume?"

"I figured it out." You shrugged. "But I got so invested in the Mystic Arts that I forgot all about Juilliard. Became a full-time student. Ever since, I never once thought about returning to my old life."

"I suppose if I'd discovered this world because I had lost, say, my ability to perform surgery, it would be hard to leave it behind and return to the operating room." He thought out loud. Sighing, he closed his hand over his watch. "But no matter how medical science evolves, you can't reverse death."

You let the quiet linger for a moment.

#doctor strange #doctor strange x you #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange x reader #doctor stephen strange #stephen strange #dr stephen strange #stephen strange x you #what if #what if marvel #doctor strange supreme #tw guns #tw abusive parent

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lovingremus · 3 years

Text

Youtuber Sirius part 2

Because a few asked for it :)

Read part 1 here!

This is set in the future (roughly August 2021) so who knows how things are then really, BUT in this blissful fantasy world, people have been super dedicated to getting the virus under control the whole year and the travel bans etc. are lifted so this can happen!!

CW the pandemic (& long-distance relationship if you don’t like to read about that <3)

It’s been over a year of twelve-hour daily phone calls and video chats. Birthdays and holidays celebrated over Zoom or FaceTime. Hundreds of “I love you” and “wish you were here” changed over the phone.

It’s been over a year of getting to know every detail of the other, a year of sharing secrets and dreams. It’s been over a year of laughter and ever-growing love, but also yearning and tears and words of comfort whispered into the speaker in the middle of the night, when the heartache of not being able to be together got too much for either of them.

But they have found ways to feel closer to each other. Sirius orders Remus a rose delivery on the door every Friday, sends him almost weekly packages filled with lovely gifts (usually a bunch of his own clothes—Remus rarely wears anything else these days, because oh god they smell like Sirius and it’s SO good). Remus still writes music for Sirius’s videos, and a half of his other songs are about him.

It’s been a while since Sirius hit forty million subscribers on his channel and a couple of months since Remus published his first full album on Spotify. They have both been guests at late-night shows via video calls. Several articles have been written about them, both as individuals as well as a couple.

So, Sirius and Remus are doing alright, but missing each other more than anything. Still, they both understand it’s more important to be patient and wait until the situation calms down rather than carelessly run to each other. Travelling abroad is out of the question right now. So they wait, and wait, and wait. It will all be worth it, they keep saying, you’re worth the wait.

Remus has watched all of Sirius’s videos. It wasn’t even hard, after all, almost like getting absorbed into a good series. He couldn’t stop watching as soon as he’d started, skipping sleep to the point Sirius threatened to make all his videos private until Remus took a nap (this happened quite a few times). Remus could definitely understand people’s obsession, even more so as he was wildly in love, and watching Sirius’s videos brought him so much comfort, a way to spend time with him during the long hours Sirius was asleep or otherwise not available.

He watches Sirius’s London vlog every day. Seeing him walk along those familiar streets is comforting and heartbreaking at the same time. And he had been so close, about twenty feet from him that night, based on the restaurant clip on the video.

Remus doesn’t remember seeing him and feels horribly guilty for it. He can’t believe they have ever been so close, in the same room, breathing the same air. He might have even brushed past his shoulder as he had exited—he had touched someone. Had it been him? Remus couldn’t tell, and neither could Sirius, who had been engaged in a conversation with someone by the time Remus was leaving the stage.

It’s been over a year, and at the end of the summer, their time finally comes. The cases are way down almost all around the world, many restrictions have been lifted. And while it’s still very important to stay safe and careful, they can start planning. They decide to meet in London, where it all started, they both get tested, and as soon as the results come back as negative, the plan is a go. Soon, they’ll be together for a whole month.

They’ll have to quarantine for two weeks as soon as Sirius arrives, which at this point is the opposite of a problem to them. Remus doesn’t go to the airport—he could be circled by fans, which is a horrifying thought, to be honest. Not only does Remus fear a bunch of strangers breathing all over him, no matter how kind their intentions would be, he still isn’t used to being recognised like that. And to avoid that happening to Sirius either, they decide not to publicly tell about the trip until they’re safe and secure at Remus’s house.

Sirius is a mess for the whole ten-hour long flight, not even dreaming of getting any sleep. He’s excited to the point he feels nauseous, he’s fidgeting with the bracelets that Remus made and sent him for his birthday.

Remus has moved houses, leaving behind his small flat and upgrading to a nice three-bedroom apartment. His dream is to have Sirius moving in with him one beautiful day. He’s waiting outside of his home now, switching between pacing back and forth, and sitting on the ground, leaning against a tree, because his legs are like jelly and just won’t carry. He almost faints when Sirius texts he’s only a few blocks away, and soon enough he sees a taxi at the end of the street. It pulls over. The backdoor opens. And there he is.

They don’t waste a second. Sirius runs toward Remus, pulling his mask down as Remus does the same to his own. They crash against each other, hugging so tight they can barely breathe. After a minute, Sirius pulls back just enough to grab Remus’s head between his hands and pull him into a hard kiss. Remus lets him, answering eagerly. They stay like this for a long time.

Later, Sirius posts an Instagram story of the two of them; Remus relaxed against his shoulder on a sofa, both smiling so happily. And the internet goes wild.

Sirius quickly puts up a few question boxes on his story, asking for video ideas and questions. They answer a bunch of them right away, and Sirius posts many cute videos of Remus grinning and blushing and hiding behind decorative pillows, and then they decide to continue later. Sirius has a massive jet lag, and Remus is just as exhausted from just feeling so much, so they go to bed early. Though not much sleeping happens until much later.

The following days are the happiest of their lives. There’s so much to talk about, whenever their lips aren’t occupied by other activities. There are so many things they want to do, even very ordinary things. Actually have a dinner date. Actually watch a movie together.

Nothing is more wonderful than hearing Remus play his guitar and sing right in front of him again, and this time, it’s only for Sirius. He plays all of the sweetest love songs, and Sirius cries and laughs and sings along.

Nothing is more wonderful than to hear Sirius talk to his camera in a low voice when he thinks Remus is asleep, telling the viewers about their day, saying such lovely things about him, and then turning back to stroking Remus’s hair as he quickly closes his eyes and pretends to be completely unaware.

Nothing is more wonderful than being able to kiss, to touch, to hear the other’s voice without the line rattling, see the other’s face from angles that don’t really show on their videos.

They film several videos over the days—a few Q&As, quarantine vlogs and a video where they switch occupations for a day, Remus learning how to handle the camera while Sirius picks up the guitar and attempts to write a song. All of them become very popular, and everybody seems to be very happy for them.

When the quarantine is over and they are allowed to go outside, they take long walks and attend low-risk outdoor events and have picnics at a park. They spend nights cooking and playing games, just doing domestic couple stuff, hoping it never ends.

It’s all so much better than either of them ever dared to wish for. They are impatient for the next time they’ll be able to meet even long before Sirius has to leave in the first place. But that dreadful day draws mercilessly closer, and they take the last week off social media, just focusing on each other.

Work becomes secondary, but the majority of their fans seem to understand. They both are more than deserving of a break, and are just too busy being in love anyway.

#wolfstar #wolfstar headcanon #remus lupin #sirius black #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #wolfstar fanfiction #my post

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bubblyani · 3 years

Text

Back for Good

(Jim Davis x Reader)

A Jim Davis One Shot

Movie: Harsh Times (2005) by David Ayer

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Alcohol use, Swearing, Violence and Sexual Content

Word Count: 9k+

Summary: Your spirits are lifted when your older boyfriend Jim Davis returns from the Army for good. As the lovers passionately reunite, you begin to reminisce the first encounter, and the unforgettable event that sealed your fate with Jim, possibly forever.

Author’s Note: One of the fantastic Balehead Accounts on Instagram once posted a photo of Jim Davis with a caption more so along the lines of “…Older boyfriend Jim visiting you at College…”. It was too irresistible to ignore. So this story was born. @tammykelly You are an angel to even show some enthusiasm towards this, even before I started, Thank you for the encouragement ! Hope y’all enjoy!

P.S: If anyone want to be tagged in specific Bale! Character fics please do let me know. And if you wanna be removed from anything NOT BATMAN, please feel free to let me know. I understand completely.

Three.

It costed three people. Merely three for this nightmare scenario to enter reality.

A tall young man panted fast, his right hand assuming full responsibility for the broken bottle, not to mention the intense bleeding that resulted from it. All the while he stared down at his finished product: a much younger man. He watched the figure groan for his dear life, laying defeated and thoroughly bruised; as a weak stream of blood appeared prominent from his head as well, adding a splash of bright color to the dark and dusty pavement. Only in that moment, realization and bitter reality coupled up to surprise the standing man, with a sucker punch.

Which was transparent enough for the young woman beside them, the witness. Violence, Danger, her trembling heart sensed it all. For that was what his strong aura emitted. However, never did she flinch. Never did her heart consider retracting from him. On the contrary, she was compelled to trust him even further.

Especially when she sensed complete safety in him, above all others.

“Let’s go”

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

(Present)

The dusky skies appeared just as serene over South Central Los Angeles as anywhere else in the country, filtering over the streets and the neighborhoods. Cruising through in favorable speed, Mike Alonzo finally took his eyes off the road, permitting them to land on the tall, young man sitting beside him on the passenger seat: his best friend, Jim Davis.

His downcast expression was evident, with his tall frame sunken into the seat. He stared right ahead, while he sipped his bottle of beer in his suit. This posture was nothing short of a surprise for Mike to glance upon. If he had squinted his eyes, he swore he could imagine Jim as the rebellious teenager he once was. Only with a new buzz cut. Otherwise, it seemed that nothing had really changed.

Except it had. Older and forced to be responsible, they were facing times considered very harsh. And Jim just had a taste of it.

“Sorry, dude”

Mike began, looking back at the road. Shaking his head with disbelief, Jim sat up in slow motion as his teeth began to grind.

“Man! Fuck…this...shit!!”

Jim drawled with disappointment, enunciating every word whilst holding up a piece of paper, “I’m so done with this cop hate bullshit!” He added, taking another sip of alcohol. Mike nodded:

“Yeah, dawg. Forget about that! ” He smiled, smacking his friend on his shoulder in a playful demeanor, “Hey, Syl is cooking tonight…You wanna join us, bro?”

The possibility of his girlfriend Sylvia agreeing to this, was at an all time low. Mike was well aware. Yet, he was certain it was a question worth posing to his friend in need.

“Nah, man! I got plans”

Hitting the brakes in front of the stop lights, Mike looked at his friend again with surprise, “Yeah?” He inquired, looking quite pleased. Finally flashing a proud smile, Jim nodded:

“Yep! Gonna go see my woman soon…” he answered. Eyes widening seemed appropriate for Mike at that very moment.

“Yo, No shit!” Mike cried out with excitement, finally stepping on the gas, “The chick from UCLA*? You…you still with her?” He inquired.

“Yeah, Homie! ”

“Dawg!…” laughing with sheer amazement, Mike looked at Jim, “I’m impressed…really” he added, proceeding to chuckle, “Look ‘atchu…my boi Jim....going steady with the fine ass college chick…”

“Whoo!” With his soul finally returning to his body, Jim howled, “Finer than fine, dawg!”

“Hell yeah!”

Given the state of hyped energy that erupted in the car between the two young men, it would be nearly impossible to guess how sombre it was just before. “So…so…” Mike continued, holding on to the wheel as they kept driving, “… where you gon’meet?”

“Well…actually…” Jim looked at him, licking his lips, “….it’s a surprise” he added with a playful smirk. To which Mike could not help but laugh, “What?” Mike paused, “You didn’t tell her you’re back for good?”

Seeing his friend shake his head like a naughty schoolboy forced him to laugh harder, “Ohohoho!! this is gon be one hell of a reunion, dawg” He added with sheer enthusiasm, “But seriously though, she’s a real good one too, bro…” Mike opinionated, as soon as his laughter died down, “ I mean, even Syl liked her”

“Shit! For real?”

“Yeah yeah yeah…” Mike answered immediately, “And you know Syl, she ain’t easy to please”

Gulping down the remnants of the bottle, Jim exhaled and stared out through the window, “Shit man!” He exclaimed, “I’m really gonna see her again, huh?”

With his tone growing deeper, his eyes began to burn with a flame that could only be categorized as lustful. Sensing the vibe that did not seem so new, Mike chuckled:

“Oh yeah! My homie’s gonna get it tonight! Salud*”

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

The buzz, the chatter of young adults was consistent in the hallway outside. It served as background noise when the door of the toilet cubicle burst wide open, spitting a rather young woman out of it with haste. Only then did the mirror managed to identify her: You.

With your hand clutching on to a bra, you let out a relieved sigh. For within a few seconds, your body experienced a new form of liberation. And you managed to savor it on your own in a public ladies washroom. Wearing a soft smile that was easily reflected in the mirror, you stuffed the piece of lingerie into your shoulder handbag.

“Seriously?”

You jumped with a yelp. Being so wrapped around in your own thoughts, you did not even notice Yara, your friend standing there. With her arms folded and eyebrows raised, it was clear that her face was rife with judgement.

“What?” You inquired breathlessly, “Auntie Flo* is about to visit…and the twins were just swelling to …get some parole time” you added with a playful smirk, pointing at your chest with no shame. The curves of your now-freed bosom seemed more visible through your cardigan top, “And fuck! it feels so good” you exclaimed, as you washed your hands. Yara however, scoffed with amusement:

“So you’re saying you were squirming in your seat the whole time to let the puppies out?”

“What? I had to pee too!”

“Well, You could have just left right then!” She insisted with a seeming annoyance, as you grabbed a tissue.

“…and miss Mr. Linney’s Final Notes? Uh uh! No way, bitch!” You waved your index finger with disapproval as you both exited. Students had flooded the hallway by then. Evening lectures at UCLA finally had drawn to a close, and Friday night was about to make its entrance. Youth in all shapes and colors, gathered in bunches all over the campus area, even beside the beautifully lit Royce Hall. Suffice to say, all were relieved to have some time off in the weekend.

“So…you coming, right?”

You looked at Yara upon her casual inquiry with confusion, “For what?”. Scoffing again, this time in disbelief, Yara's eyes widened looking at you: “Dinner?…tonight?”

She stressed, taking a step out of the campus building, “Last week you promised you’ll join me and Chase” with her arms folded and foot tapping on the ground in pure restlessness, she was a clear visual of a loanshark. However, that impatience left her system the moment her eyes fell behind you,“…and speaking of Chase…Baby!”

With her face lit up, her tone grew affectionate as Chase, her boyfriend rushed over to her.

“ ‘sup babe!” The tall, young blonde greeted, pulling his ebony goddess of a girlfriend for a passionate kiss.

Folding your arms, you could not help but avert your eyes. All the while you drew circles with your foot on the ground. Chase and Yara’s relationship certainly was a refreshing one to glimpse upon in the campus premises. You approved of it with sincerity, even when you looked away in awkwardness. It was not on spite. Truthfully, PDA was nothing you disapproved of. You were certainly not envious of the joy they possessed as their lips played with one another, quite similarly to a steamy MTV music video. You merely looked away, for any display of affection was a sheer reminder of him.

It had been months since you last saw him, possibly 6. And constant communication was not exactly convenient for him. Not in his situation. Was he alive and happy? The sheer reminder of gunshots and helicopter whirring forced your heart to race, which was nothing short of new. Granted, you had learnt to ‘compartmentalize’, a term you recently came to knowledge in your psych minor class. Yet, you were young and only human to have those concerns return to haunt you even for a few seconds. The sound of Yara and Chase’s lips smacking urged you to look up. Finally, you thought.

“So?” Yara inquired, casually wiping the smudged lipstick off her face, “You coming?”

Carefree, yet extremely inconsiderate, that was what she exuded. A knot of anxiety formed in your stomach. For oddly enough, the sight of the happy couple managed to drain your energy out tonight. You longed to run away.

“Honestly…” you began with a sigh, “I don’t really feel so good tonigh-”

“¿Qué pasa, guapa?”

What’s up, gorgeous?

That voice. That deep, spine tingling tone was a reminder of your mere existence. The tone that tempted every hair in your body to stand at attention. Turning around in a flash, you covered your mouth, shocked to find the person you prayed to see all this time.

“JIM??” You cried out in a muffled tone, “Oh my GOD!!-”

Squealing in pure joy, you sprinted towards Jim Davis before jumping into his arms. Seemingly extremely pleased, Jim let out a hearty laughter. Suddenly the energy you were drained had returned in the form of a shot of adrenaline when he picked you up and spun you around, kissing you without hesitation. And you swore the feel of his lips on yours added a couple of years into your life.

“Wait, you didn’t tell me you were coming back so soon” Breathless, you pointed out when he finally put you down.

“Well, I’m back for good, baby” Jim replied, extending his arms outward with pride. Your eyes widened: “What? You serious?”

“Yep…” he grinned nodding, “Honorably discharged…and all yours”

You sensed his tone morph into a low purr the moment he pulled you close to him. And you would be lying if that did not fill your stomach with butterflies. After ages.

“Umm….”

Yara’s voice emerged. You and Jim turned back, to find her and Chase appearing the most confused, “…you mind telling us who this is…?” She inquired with raised eyebrows.

Finally in realization, you chuckled. For introductions were in order.

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

The aromatic scent crept into your nostrils, only to soon disappear out of the lack of attention provided. All the while an uptempo Latin Pop track playing in the background mingled with Yara and Chase’ voices, but unfortunately faded away into mere mumbles. For none of that seemed to be the key focus for you tonight. Not when Jim Davis was around.

Even seated at a crowded Mexican Restaurant, he mattered the most to you. Even when platefuls of delectable Taquitos* were served to the table, your eyes did not leave his irresistible side profile. And when his sense of expertise noticed and his eyes caught your gaze, you were breathless. You wondered if it was the romantic in you surfacing, for all seemed to appear in slow motion. His eyes remained seductive, washing all over you that it was certain your panties might melt and diminish into thin air. Those eyes were truly sorcerous, that your eyes suddenly had lives of their own to the point you could sense their figurative cheeks heat up with heavy blushes. For his eyes, they were proficient in the dirty talk as much as his mouth was. Breathing in his cheap cologne with depth, you suddenly grew aware of his touch, and the fact he had his arm wrapped around your shoulder all this time. Being lost in his eyes was definitely an out-of-body experience.

“Hey!”

Your soul reunited with your frame upon Yara’s call.

“Mmm?” Looking over at the couple sitting across the table, you and Jim were unfazed.

“Aren’t you two gonna eat?” Yara inquired with raised eyebrows while Chase had began to gobble. Her gaze questioned both your sanity. To which you and Jim could not help but chuckle in response. Shaking her head, Yara scoffed:

“It’s so weird…” she began, “…seeing you like this”. Wiping the crumbs off his mouth, Chase joined in with confidence, “Yeah! How did you guys even meet anyways? I mean, no offense but…we never thought she’d be the one…” he stressed, pointing at you, “… to have an older boyfriend who’s a Marine-”

“-Army Ranger” Jim corrected. His gaze and tone was dominant, enough for Chase to wither with intimidation.

“Yeah…” Chase nodded with a gulp, “…what you said…”. You would be lying if you admit you did not enjoy that sight.

“Actually…” you finally began, “We met a year ago” turning to face your boyfriend, “ He was back in LA during his break. We met at a bar”

“Hold up! ” Raising her hand, Yara was wide eyed, “How come I didn’t know about this?”

“Cause this happened a year ago, hun. Calm down” you chuckled, “Actually, this was even before Cin transferred. Hah! you didn’t miss much…Don’t worry” you assured upon seeing Yara’s pout, “It was a small bar, but I loved the Pistos*-I mean…” you paused with a smile, “….the beer there…” Your pause caused Jim to chuckle alongside once again. Safe to say it was a chuckle that encompassed a shared memory. A sweet reminder of your first ever meeting.

“And?…that’s it?” Chase inquired with amusement, with both hands resting on the wooden table, “You both meet at a bar one night and…” he whistled, “…then sparks flew?”

Looking at them both, you could sense the suspicion in their eyes. You longed to answer, however it was not so easy to do so. Pausing, you struggled with a response.

“Absolutely!”

Jim answered for you with nonchalance, while his grip on you tightened. For a split second you both exchanged a gaze of reassurance. And you had never been more relieved. The secret was safe.

“So…”, Turning towards the couple, Jim began, “How did you lovebirds meet then?”

Hesitation was certainly not in Yara’s vocabulary when she offered to speak. Leaving her sight, your eyes darted towards the the chilled beer that Jim placed on the table. You smiled to yourself. They were certainly filled with memories.

Reminiscing your first meeting with Jim Davis, never failed to be exciting every single time. Before Yara ended up in your life, there was Cindy. Noticing your evident sadness due to her surprise transfer to USC*, Cindy was hell bent in comforting you, thus suggesting you join her and her boyfriend Ray for a night out in South Central. You agreed, being desperate enough to spend the final few days with your roommate. Situated at the suburbs, this bar was small, intimate and seemingly inhabited by those who knew Ray, which resulted in a welcoming atmosphere upon arrival. Though the place was mostly filled with gangsters, you did not care for the slightest, when especially you found yourself falling for the unexpected; The beer.

Chilled to perfection, the beer there was unlike any that you had tasted before. And it was certainly a surprise, given they were the usual brands. You could not fathom the refreshing sensation that trickled down your throat with the first sip. That sensation tempted your hips to sway, urged your feet to move in rhythm. All in syncopation with the music that played in the jukebox under the dim lights. Until finally bumping into a man woke you from your intoxication. A man you were fascinated with in an instant:

Jim Luther Davis.

Such a pity that Yara’s gusto-filled story barely reached your ears. For reliving a memory simply seemed sweeter for you. Thus, you continued to do so.

Fortunately, Jim Davis did not end up being a handsome stranger that you simply bumped into, for coincidence had other plans. Especially, when he and Mike Alonzo turned out to be Ray’s mutual older drinking buddies. You were ecstatic. Internally, of course.

With the entire group packed together in the booth table, it was one loud but engaging hangout. Except for you. Somehow you preferred to sit right next to Cindy in silence, being distracted by two things: Beer, and Jim.

Blame the chemicals embedded in your system, for you simply found yourself drawn to him. Truthfully, it did not seem so difficult to begin with. Not when he turned out to be your type in appearance. You found yourself watching him. The manner in which he listened to others with swagger and confidence, the manner in which he held himself ; They all brought a certain air to him. Your attention had pierced through all manner of secrecy that he would occasionally end up catching your gaze. And then you would look away, quick and embarrassed. Though you must admit, it was a game you thoroughly enjoyed playing. But at the same time, you felt idiotic and childish.

“Cat got yo tongue, baby?”

You blinked, looking up. Fabio, one of Ray’s friends threw the query over to your direction, all of the sudden. And with that, the table grew quiet. All the eyes landed on you, except for Jim’s. A surge of embarrassment rushed towards you when awkward silence filled the booth. For you were definitely distracted to the point you did not follow the conversation. With you struggling to form an answer, Fabio snickered:

“Yo Cindy, What’s up with yo friend? She deaf or somethin’?”

“Easy, homie”

Before Cindy could respond, Jim’s quick reply arose. And you swore your eyes caught the sight of his hand ball into a fist as his eyes had grown dark. Oddly enough, that was the comfort you needed right then.

“Don’t mind me, Fabio…” you shrugged with confidence, “I’m just a girl hooked on her Pistos” you said, enunciating the Spanish word before taking another sip. You may have smiled at him, but you knew how much you feigned it. Awkward silence remained intact. But Ray managed to save the night, by changing the topic of conversation. Slightly embarrassed, Fabio shot you a look. All before he leaned towards his friends, muttering some words in Spanish.

“You speak Spanish?”

Jim’s low query made you turn to him.

“N-No…” you answered with nervousness.

“Well…” he began, “…you should” Though his tone was of seriousness, he did not fail to flash you a soft smile that comforted you even further.

Thus, the evening progressed. And you began to notice Jim in much detail. The more you did, you discovered a warmth that seemed to trickle down your heart. For you realized, you would not be able to stop yourself from falling for him. Hard.

You smiled to yourself, relieved Yara still did not know you were drifting away in your head, stuck in a memory.

Unable to stop obsessing over him since that first night, you remembered how you found yourself returning to the same bar the following night, alone.

Stepping into the venue, you suddenly were aware how unprepared you were. Even while placing an order at the bar counter, you remembered covering your mouth with embarrassment. Was this a mistake?

“Hey Baby! ”

Jumping in your barstool, you sighed with annoyance when you realized it was Fabio sneaking up on you.

“Just…” you feigned a chuckle, “Don’t call me baby, okay?”. Evidently ignorant, Fabio seemed to have chosen to stay. To your dismay. Sporting gold chains on his neck and wrists, Fabio was on a dire attempt to emulate a thriving gangster, when he actually was just another college kid like Ray.

“So, whatcha doing all by yourself, baby? Don’t tell me…you’re here to see yo boi Fabio?”

Keep telling yourself that, you thought. Exhaling in frustration, you maintained a tight smile, “I uh…just waiting for someone” you struggled. Flashing a mischievous smile, Fabio leaned in closer. You prayed he would not notice how your nose scrunched up by his heavy cologne with disgust. And how your body tightened when his eyes scanned you from top to bottom, licking his lips by the sight of your choker and your red, floral short dress.

“Who are we kidding?” He sniggered, “You wanna piece of this, huh? Come o-” “No!” You cut him off, “I’m really…” feigning a chuckle once again, “…waiting for someone…Thanks” you said, extending your hands in defense. Given the reaction of those around you, it may have been a louder response than expected. For Fabio turned red, making it his queue to slither away. You sighed deep. Luck did not seem to get on with you from the moment you stepped in here. Was this a mistake? When you felt a finger tap you on your shoulder, you rolled your eyes and turned around. For you were ready to give Fabio a piece of your mind.

Except, it was not Fabio.

“Hey…”

Jim greeted you, his deep tone announcing his arrival. Standing at an appropriate distance, he stood tall with a hint of swagger. Your body began to finally relax by the sight, especially when your eyes were refreshed by the open plaid shirt worn along with his white vest and baggy pants.

“Hey…” breathless, you began, “Hey!” Confidence finally became you as you repeated with a smile. The bartender caught your attention the moment he placed a chilled bottle of beer on the counter before you.

“Make it two, Hermano* ” Jim said, handing the man some cash. All the sudden, guilt washed over you as you gasped: “Oh I-”

“I got this…” Jim assured, seeing you reach into your bag. Grateful, you nodded, “So…” he began, “Can seem to get enough of them Pistos, hmm?” An inquiry left his lips the moment he received his own bottle. Smiling shyly, you bit the side of your lower lip. The manner in which that word rolled out his tongue caused excitement. Besides, his mouth suddenly seemed more delectable. Oh, his mouth.

“Yeah…” you admitted, “Can’t get enough…and I hope I never will”

You added, gazing directly into his hazel orbs. It simply was a mistake to do so, given how those eyes burnt with curiousity, urging you to blush in return, “And er…” pausing, you looked down, “ I was kinda hoping I’d catch you around” you said, looking up again.

“Yeah?” Jim inquired, genuinely surprised, “Why?”

That was when you froze. He was right, what exactly was your intention of seeing him tonight? Unfathomable on how you gathered courage to blurt that silly line in the first place. What if you dragged yourself all the way here to be rejected? What if there never was a form of enthusiasm from his corner as you hoped? What if this ends up being the story of a silly sophomore college girl, having delusions over an older man?

You chuckled with a nervous tone, “Well I-…” you paused, as your pulse began to grow loud within you, “Sorry…” you muttered, sliding off the stool, “This was just a stupid idea. I should go-”

“Wait!”

You turned upon Jim’s call. Showing his bottle, he shrugged:

“These Pistos aren’t gonna get finished themselves, hmm?” He dared to pose that inquiry with a playful grin. Smiling back involuntarily, you knew you had no comeback for that.

You remembered the chill outside the bar that night. The breeze that caressed your exposed skin of your legs were still fresh in your memory. Gazing at whatever stars your eyes could make out amidst the city lights, you and Jim sipped on the chilled alcohol from the porch. Given the fact there were little to none outside, the evening was unexpectedly intimate.

“Your uh…” clearing your throat, you finally broke the surprisingly comfortable silence, “Your friend not with you tonight?”

“Mike?” Jim inquired, to which you nodded, “Nah! he’s got his hands full” he answered with a smile.

“You guys close?”

“Hell yeah…He’s my homeboy, ya know? Since we were kids”

“Sweet. Must be nice.” You smiled in return, looking back at the sky, “I uh…remember that you serve. Iraq, huh?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Fallujah* ” Jim answered with a nod, looking at you.

“Whoa…” you breathed in wonder. Silence took over once again while your tongue savored the beverage.

“And you?…UCLA?” Jim spoke before wiping his mouth, “Man! That’s some fancy ass shit right there”

“Yeah well… it ain’t a walk in the park…” you contradicted in a shy tone, forcing him to shoot you a look of concern. To which you chuckled, “I’m on scholarship, I mean…” you added, helping him come to realization, “Hehe yeah…I had to nerd my way into that gig” moving side to side, you could not help but take another sip,“But, I know…what a good thing I got going on. And I know… if I screw it up, then I’m FUCKED” you enunciated the end, which drove him to laughter. You adored how it soothed you somehow.

“Well…” he began, “…whatever fucking takes, right?”

You nodded, “Hell yeah…Here’s to…uh…positive shit! Hah!” You laughed as you both clinked the bottles together. The more alcohol that chose to settle in your system, the bolder you became:

“What’s it like?”

“What?”

You fully turned to him, “Being out there…in Iraq…” you continued, “I mean…I’m guessing you’ve seen some shit…” you inhaled, “you know…shit you can’t forget, right? I mean, shit like that…” you scoffed, “….that shit can fuck…you…up…” at that moment you could not help but find yourself lost in thought.

But Jim’s surprised expression made you pause. You chuckled in embarrassment.

“I’m just…guessing…” you muttered, sipping once again. Perhaps you went a tad bit too far with the blabbering. For your cheeks began to heat up with worry. Until Jim spoke:

“Well…Shit or no shit…Follow orders, that’s what we do” Instead of a frown, Jim replied, taking a huge gulp from his bottle.

“Yeah…I get it” you nodded in a fast pace. Robust, and straightforward, his attitude was to be admired. Funny you found yourself staring at his side profile long enough, his face could easily be compared to that of a statue. Perfect in proportion, your mouth began to dry out. You were attracted to him, shamelessly so.

“I-”, You paused, suppressing a grin, “…never mind”

“What? What is it?” He asked, looking at you. To which you shook your head frantically.

“Nah, it’s really silly…”

“Come on!…tell me” Fully turning, Jim insisted with a smile. His voice had its way of being persuasive. And his voice had its way of tearing your defenses down, or so it seemed. Taking a deep breath, you began:

“I kept thinking about this but…” you paused, “Last night, you said I should learn some Spanish… Why?”

Desperate for more interaction, that was your excuse. Jim responded with a shy chuckle. Certainly was worth it.

“I mean, we just met and you barely knew me…” you continued with a smile, “So…why?” As your question grew more confident, your inner desperation grew strong. Taking his last sip from the bottle, Jim surprised you by taking a step towards you:

“You really wanna know the truth?”

“Try me” , You replied, quickly finishing your own bottle, all without breaking away from his gaze.

And thank goodness you finished it. For you would have surely dropped it. Especially when Jim stood dangerously close to you, causing you to be immediately aware of the muscles between your thighs contracting. Even more so, when his irresistible eyes traveled from your very own all the way to your alcohol stained lips.

“Cause…” he purred, “…you have no fucking clue how sexy you sound”

You both may have chuckled to his line, but that did not mean your pulse did not quicken. Which increased in speed the moment his eyes took hold on yours once again. Seduction, he certainly was proficient in it. And you, were a witness. A witness who suffered from internal combustion of frustration.

You inhaled deep, “Really?” “Yeah…” he breathed in a sultry manner.

Just when you thought no force on earth could break this eye contact, the door burst open. Some men exited. Breaking away, you looked at your watch watch in an instant. You sighed. Real Life was calling you.

“I…I gotta go…” downcast, you muttered with guilt, “Class tomorrow…” adding extra guilt, you knew that excuse certainly did not put you in a good light.

“Lemme drop you then…”

Jim’s nonchalant and nonjudgmental reply urged you to look up with relief. Smiling in agreement, you watched him enter the bar with the empty bottles. And in that very moment, a tingling sensation filled with thrill washed over you, leaving no inch unattended. Butterflies returned to your stomach, fluttering harder than ever before in your life. Were you being hopeful? Could Jim Davis be desiring the same? Goosebumps traveled through you when that tingling sensation returned with much detail. Too much detail to be specific.

Until you realized it was real. And Jim’s hand was directly at fault here.

Blinking back to the present reality, your eyes caught the sight of Jim’s chilled fingers on your leg. They ran over over your inner exposed thigh in circular motion, thus, inciting the tingling sensation. Of course, no wonder the detail was accurate.

Yara and Chase were oblivious to all this, for they were caught up in their own love story as she kept yapping. But that was only the fact Jim kept on such a convincing focused face. He may be ‘listening’ to your friend, but his hand was evidently not. The longer his fingers lingered on your skin, the more you were reminded of him. And the more you began to tingle and sweat in the most unexpected places.

You were young, and unapologetically shameless. 6 months. It was exactly 6 whole months since you were last physically intimate with your boyfriend. And with studies piling up along with the expectation of a scholarship holding sophomore, ‘getting yourself off’ was never an option. Not with a roommate around.

The tingling sensation grew even stronger. And you began to hear your own quickening breath. Jim Davis’ elongated fingers, they spoke of pride. You longed for them to travel to locations far more adventurous and private than your thighs. Especially when they were rife with experience. Truthfully, it was a fact that his hands and his delicious lips and tongue were fluent in your body than your own self. Being pleasure deprived for too long, the mere thought of him ravishing you, aroused you even more. Aroused, and certainly very starved. The kind that food simply could not satisfy.

“...and under the stars…” Yara continued, holding on to Chase with lovestruck eyes, “…he told me he loved m-”

“Excuse me!”

Cutting her off, you cried out as you stood up in an instant.

“What’s up with you?” Chase inquired, whilst Yara looked offended.

“Just I gotta…pee…” you lied, eyes landing on Jim, “…now”

“Okay…” you heard Chase mutter in kind as you left the table, “…TMI, but whatever”

In all fairness, being judged was the least of your concerns. With every speedy step you took, the faster your heart began to beat. Storming into the empty ladies room, you found yourself staring at a mirror once again, with a heaving chest and noticeably flushed cheeks. It was plain to see, you were engulfed in the flames of pure arousal, and the fire needed to be put out.

And when the bathroom door opened up once again, you turned to find the fireman enter. Wearing a serious expression, it was slightly difficult to decipher his thoughts.

“I…” you struggled as Jim strode towards you, “I didn’t know what else to do-” Except he knew. When he attacked you with a passionate kiss.

Jumping into him was reflexive. Wrapping your legs around his waist seemed almost choreographed. Finally resting on the washroom sink, it was quite safe to admit how both of you were very much relieved to be the only occupants in the room. For there was no intention of holding back. Your denim skirt hiked high up, revealing your thighs in completion under the white fluorescent lights as Jim stood between your legs. And they were much cared for, as his hands gingerly rubbed them back and forth while his lips indulged yours with hunger.

“You think they know I lied?”

Breathless, you inquired with innocence. Except you did not receive an instant reply. Not when you found yourself gasping when he pulled your head back by your hair with a growl. With liberated access to your bare neck, Jim celebrated by placing equally starving kisses all over, resulting in your surprising moans.

“You think I fuckin’ care?” He chuckled into your skin, to which you could not help but chuckle back:

“Oh no, you bad boy” you purred in tease.

“Oh yeah, baby girl …” purring back, his reply incited a giggle out of you before he kissed you once again.

“Ay Papi*!” You breathed into his lips before he snatched up yours for good. Surroundings were simply irrelevant the moment the kiss turned intense, as his tongue crashed in like the rude boy he was, and grabbed onto your own tongue in a passionate embrace. They clashed against one another in frenzy, him claiming you as his. As the kiss grew deeper, your moans grew louder. When he pulled away all the sudden, whimpers left your lips with desperation. Teasing you so, Jim took a good look at you:

“¿Como esta tu Español?” He breathed low. And you were pleased that you actually understood.

How’s your Spanish?

Pressing himself against you, he began to slowly grind. You grew excited. Listening to Jim Davis speak Spanish was simply erotic in the first place. And since you have been studying it on your own for past few months, you were certainly impatient to show him.

“Yo…” you began, finding the words “…estudio pala-sorry…” with a nervous chuckle, you looked down, “..I know I suck-”

“No no…keep going” Jim insisted with a smile, bringing your chin up for a reassuring kiss, “Now say it again…” he added, maintaining eye contact with ferocity. Taking a deep breath, all the words clearly appeared in your head. Thus, you flashed a mischievous grin:

“…estudiando palabras…muy importantes”

I am studying…very important words.

Gasping was all you could do when Jim picked you up, carrying you into the nearest toilet booth. Thankfully with this restaurant being surprisingly hygienic, you did not mind. Life barely was embedded in your legs the moment he put you down, locking the door behind you to push you against it.

“Oh yeah?” He inquired, panting, “¿Cómo cuál?”

Like what?

Panting alongside him, you stood up straight, “Por ejemplo…”

For example…

Amidst his pants and his impressed expression, you grabbed his hands, placing them over your buttocks. All the while you looked at him with eyes, heavy with lust:

“¡Haz lo que quieras!”

You could not believe how confident you sounded. Smiling with equal lust in his eyes, Jim kissed you in approval, definitely pleased with what he just heard:

(Do) whatever you want!

Growling with effect, his animalistic nature was exuded as his hands gripped onto your buttocks with passion. His big, generous hands felt through every cheek with familiarity, as if they just reunited with a long lost friend. But that did not mean he forgot about all the other friends, the rest of your frame that had missed him as well. Moaning with pleasure, you began to unbutton his white shirt during in haste.

You simply adored his hands, for they were as passionate as his Spanish was. As he proceeded to hold on to your hips, your own hands roamed over his torso over his white vest. Except you froze the second his hands landed on your chest. Shaky breaths exited your lips as you shivered by his touch, for your breasts were at its most sensitivity even through your thin cardigan top. Palming them generously, Jim groaned into your lips:

“Fuck! I missed you, Guapa”

“I missed you more, Papi”

Confessing in return, you kissed him once more. Moans of desperation mixed into your kisses the moment his hands dipped inside your cardigan crop top, only to make direct contact with your untethered bosom. You winced involuntarily, even from his touch so gentle. Jim chuckled with seeming victory. And you were not afraid to admit, how you were simply in the palm of his hand.

Usually, during the peak pre-menstruation, you dared not let anyone come close to you, let alone touch you. But when it was Jim Davis, those rules halt by the door. He was a man who could maneuver his touch. However, he certainly was no good boy. Proceeding with his sweet torture during kisses, you were relieved to have a door to keep you balanced. For his long fingers, they flicked, encircled and pulled your now-sensitive nipples, keeping them fully erect and thoroughly visible even through the clothes.

Gripping his vest even tighter, you pressed your thighs together, for intense levels of pleasure and sensitivity crashed within you, akin to an avalanche. In truth, it simply was an overdose, and you could not handle. You were a mere animal trapped in this cage of frustration. But like an animal, you managed to set yourself free. You pushed Jim back with such force, that he ended up sitting on the closed toilet seat behind him. A surprised expression adorned his face when you straddled him in the process. Peeling your cardigan off your torso, you hinted your need for him. Which immediately was motivation for him to unbuckle his pants. However, his eyes did not fail to leave your sight while he did. For his eyes revealed nothing but pure amazement and hunger. He inhaled deep:

“Fuck!” He uttered, while his hand dipped into his hardened manhood.

“Yeah, that’s right Papi…” you breathed, maintaining the ironclad gaze. All the while you permitted his hand to feel the intense dampness of your opening, “Fuck me!”

And thus, public decency went flying out the window the moment the lovers fully united. The manner in which his hands rested on your bare back; whilst you moved upwards and downwards in syncopation to his thrusts, it drove you wild. The manner in which his generous and erect shaft felt so familiar inside of your tight walls, was too intoxicating as always. His mutual desperation and hunger translated well, as his lips savored on your swollen and sensitive bosom as if they were treasured food rations. Tingles were divided into million branches, impacting every form of stimuli in your system. But even in the midst of these endless waves of pleasure, that certain question from Chase yet lingered in your mind:

“And?…that’s it? You both meet at a bar one night and…then sparks flew?” “Absolutely!”

For in truth, it was not just a night of drinking and playful flirting that caused this relationship to blossom. And just like that, You could not help but recall further.

And peek into the moment that remained stored in the deepest corner of your mind. In the form of a secret.

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

With arms folded, you kept on waiting. Long enough for the chill outside to grow stronger. Long enough for you to begin pacing nervously. Even long enough for several men to exit the bar during. Given its cabin exterior, it became more and more evident that this was more of an old fashioned bar. You sighed. Jim was certainly taking a little bit too long inside.

Paranoia knocked on your heart’s door, forcing you to welcome it inside with reluctance. Thus, several questions began to occupy your thinking space. Was there trouble inside? A possible Bar Fight? You shook your head, for you were surely being delusional. Or worse, was this a part of his plan all along? The player type to ditch you for someone else? Perhaps with someone better looking that he just met. Envy formed in your heart towards a woman that possibly may not even exist. Your stomach turned in a merciless fashion. When the door opened again, a surge of hope grew in you. Could it finally be Jim?

Except it was not.

“Baby! You still around huh?”

Fabio said, in a pleased tone, exiting the bar. Clicking your tongue in an involuntary fashion, you turned away with frustration. For he was the last person you hoped to lay eyes upon.

“Hey-Wha-What’s the matter?” Fabio cried, “Can’t look at a friend?” Whilst he tapped you on the shoulder repeatedly. Alcohol was strong in his presence. And the fact he stood uncomfortably close certainly turned your stomach even more.

“Well, technically you’re not my friend” With a forced smile, you turned to him, “You’re Ray’s friend, OKAY? ” a snappy tone exited your lips. And for a split second, there was genuine offense painted in Fabio’s face.

“Just tryna be nice, jeez!” He muttered low, with arms lifted. Coming one’s senses, you finally drew in deep breath while letting your arms loose.

“I…I’m sorry, dude” you said, in a soft tone, staring the droopy eyed young man. Being Cindy’s friend, your last intention was to cause friction Ray and his friends. Your tone seemed to have been convincing enough, for Fabio flashed a soft smile in return:

“It’s okay…” he replied, to which you were relieved.

But that relief was short lived. Especially when Fabio leaned forward with puckered up lips in an instant, forcing you to gasp.

“What the hell, man?” You inquired, pushing him back with aggression.

“Ah come on, baby…” he drawled, chuckling in a playful manner, “Just one kiss…I mean, look at you! You still waiting out here. For who? I know… you really came here for me” with open arms, he went in for an embrace. Scoffing, you pushed him back again. That was when your pulse quickened again. To the point you hoped to flee.

“That’s it! I’m leaving! ”

You snapped, darting away from the entrance. The concern of leaving Jim behind or finding a cab did not seem problematic anymore, for all you needed was to get away. However, a painful cry left your lips when you felt your hair being pulled back. Your eyes widened. It was an angry Fabio.

“Ugh! Why you being such a Puta* right now, huh?” He said through gritted teeth, pulling you closer “Oh wait I forgot…” he snickered, “….you don’t understand Spanish, right bitch?” turning you to him. The alcohol had certainly rendered him more maniacal than ever.

“Don’t’ be a jerk, Fabio…” You cried, as you began to swing desperate punches towards his direction. But your defenses were lowered and moot, the moment he grabbed you tight by the wrists. You gasped, “..let… me… go! HELP! ”.

However, despite your cries, no one came to your aid.

This feeling, certainly was the ‘stuff of nightmares’. This feeling, had haunted you every now and again in imagination. To have it form into reality, was worse. No matter the force you exerted to free yourself, it seemed moot. For Fabio had the upper hand with his strength. And you were overpowered with intimidation. With the heartbeat increased in record speed, your heart was on the verge of exploding with fear. For the first time, you feared for your life. You despised the fact there was no one around, the fact this bar was on the outskirts. Almost close to tears, You heavily despised the fact you may be getting hurt in more ways than one tonight.

Until you heard a bottle shatter. Loud.

Glass fragments dripped from Fabio’s head as he cried out with immense pain. His grip on you loosened before he dropped down to the ground. Only for you to find Jim Davis standing behind him, with with a bottle broken in hand, and sheer rage in his eyes.

Rolling over, Fabio caught the sight of the man, “Jim??” He groaned, “What the hell, man? Why you helping this bitch-ARGH!”

A kick in the stomach was Jim’s choice in response, which incited more cries from the fool.

“THE FUCK YOU TOUCH HER FOR, HUH?” Jim yelled, his loud voice piercing through the tension like high pressured flames. However, the question seemed rhetoric, when he continued to kick Fabio, aggression growing more and more evident, “FUCKING…ASS…HOLE!” With tightened fists, he enunciated with each kick, “MOTHERFUCKE-”

“JIM!!!!”

You cried in an instant. And that very moment was when he finally froze. That fateful moment, you watched his face change, for his expression was clear as day. As if a wave of realization washed over him. As if bitter reality surprised him with a sucker punch.

All the while he stared down at his finished product: Fabio. He watched the the young man groan for his dear life, laying defeated and thoroughly bruised; all the while a weak stream of blood appeared prominent from his head and his mouth, adding a splash of bright color to the dark and dusty pavement.

Which was transparent enough for you, the witness.

You regretted being frozen with shock. If it only was for you to control. Thankfully a shred of it reached when you finally mustered the strength to call for him out from a potential murder. Violence, Danger, your trembling heart sensed it all. All from Jim. For that was what his strong aura emitted. However, despite your shock, never did you flinch. Never did your heart consider retracting from him or running away.

On the contrary, you were compelled to trust him even further. Especially when you sensed complete safety in him, above all others.

“Let’s go…”

You found yourself uttering those words, as you took his hand in urgency. Pulling him with haste, you both fled from the scene. Adrenaline coursing through the veins whilst running away, leaving a wounded man laying in his own mess before anyone could find out.

You remembered how Jim drove. Quiet, but focused. He drove and drove, until the bar disappeared from your sight. He drove to the point you both found yourselves ending up at a remote beach. And finally, time had returned to its normal pace once again.

Calming sounds of the ocean waves filled your ears, while the sight of the foamy waters barely were visible in the darkness. You watched Jim slowly take his hands from the wheel, rubbing his face. Your eyes widened, when you noticed his hand bleeding slightly. Perhaps from the broken bottle. You longed to speak, however no voice was present. Pushing the seat back, Jim slowly crawled over to the back of the car. Silence overpowered for too long, which urged you to clear your throat and speak:

“A…Are you ok-”

“You’re right, you know…”

You paused, upon hearing Jim’s interruption. Looking back from the front passenger seat, you found light finally shining on his face. Much to your sadness, cracks formed in your heart by the sight of his expression. Especially when silent tears streamed down his chiseled face. As if his mask of bravery was stripped away. Or even melted.

“You’re right…shit’s been crazy over there…” he chuckled with sadness, “…worse, shit’s crazy over here too…” he said, pointing at his own head.

Joining him in the backseat, you took the bandana off your head without hesitation.

“The thing’s I’ve seen…” he continued in mid-whisper, “The shit I had to do. The shit I wanted to do. It’s fucked up…so fucked up”.

It was unfathomable. Witnessing emotions of Jim Davis on variant scale in one single night, including him unveiling his vulnerability, you did not know where to begin processing. Simultaneously, those cracks in your heart, they could not help but form deeper to the point you ached inside. For a second, you were filled with an overwhelming desire for this misery in his heart to disappear. You longed for him to smile again. You froze. Were you tasting a slice of pure affection? Perhaps even, love? For him?

“It’s too fucked up…I’M fucked up-”

“Hey…hey…”

Your voice cracked when you finally began, leaning towards him, “Shhhh…It’s okay…” you said in comfort, while rubbing his forearm, “…its okay…I’m here” you said, as you occupied yourself with tending to his bleeding hand as a coping mechanism. The bleeding that he did not even notice.

With his hand on yours, the heart did feel heavier in comparison. As if his hand was magnetically powerful enough to keep you nearby. Thus, forming an attraction. Not the type that stirred the loins, but merely the kind that longed for you to wail on behalf of him. The kind to carry the pain for him. As if you did not wish to carry on another minute of your life, without knowing he would be well. And you would be lying if you did not want to show him that.

Your trembling hand reached out for his surprised face, turning it towards you with patience. The deep breath you took, it occupied your lungs in completion. Butterflies exploded in your stomach , causing a riot before you moved close. Close enough to feel his breath on your face. And close enough to press your lips on both his cheeks.

You tasted his salty tears, that stained his face. Pressing your own lips together, you hoped you could share his pain this way. Your eyes were smart, urging your voice to take a breather, whilst they gazed at his lips. Those lips that turned you greedy the moment you saw first laid eyes on them. And his trembling breaths of despair were enough for you to finally dispose of any form of hesitation.

For you finally moved to kiss him ever so gently on the lips.

With your kiss, you were there for him, in spite of it all. In spite of the violence and the tears. And the moment you instantly felt Jim kiss you back, you knew you were hopelessly his.

All the sudden, a dose of sweetness was infused with the salty kisses, weakening the flavor of the beer that lingered in his mouth. Selfishly, the need for comfort vanished. For all you needed was him. In every possible manner. Safe to say, Jim wholeheartedly agreed.

A sudden injection of passion entered your systems, setting your bodies in its entirety, in flames. Which also included the loins. Powerful enough for you to straddle him, powerful enough for Jim to flip you down to hover over you. And certainly powerful enough for the both of you to make love.

You treasured it all. The manner in which his fingers were precise, hooking on to your panties to gingerly peel them out of your frame. The manner in which his eyes gazed upon your own, then traveling all the way south to take in the sight of your now exposed opening, that dripped with wetness, blushing in its own means and begging him to explore it. Thus, it was to be expected, when you welcomed him inside you effortlessly. As if it had waited for him all your life.

Even for the first time, Jim was fast, and was rough. Yet surprisingly, you did not care. You knew where it originated. And it seemed most apt.

While he moved in body, he fled in heart. Away from the horrors, away from the pain. This resulted from his need for a distraction. Amidst the syncopated moans that filled the car, you cupped his face. Looking right into his hazel orbs, you witnessed his need. His need for a distraction. And at the peak of climax, you witnessed his desperation. His desperation, that urged you to never him go.

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(Present)

“I failed the test…”

Jim uttered low, capturing your attention. With your face buried in his neck, you heard it louder than ever. Tilting your head, you sat up straight to face him, confusion taking over. After reaching climax following a session of passionate and exciting love-making in a restaurant toilet booth, there you both were in recovery. Never did you expect him to break the silence with a statement such as this.

“What do you mean?” You inquired in a half whisper.

“The Psych test…” Jim elaborated, while you proceeded to put your cardigan top back on, “…for the LAPD gig” sighing, he was downcast “I failed that shit…”

“No….” You breathed. The disappoint that was rife in his tone, somehow pierced through your heart. Thus, ushering in a wave of sadness that came crashing in, “Baby, I’m so sorry…” you said as you embraced him tight. To your surprise, Jim held you tightly in his arms in return. For when he buried his face on the crook of your neck and remained in silence for a mere few seconds, it was evident that was what he was required of. A rush of butteries attacked as you gently cupped his face. You loved this man, and your heart was the witness.

“Fuck the cops if the they can’t relate” you said through gritted teeth, before kissing both his cheeks, “Fuck ‘em! Cause something better is comin’ ” you added with a soft smile, while your thumb ran over his upper lip, “We just gotta ...keep our heads straight”

To your relief, Jim seemed amused, “Speaking from experience?”

You smiled with pride, “You could say that…”

Both of you chuckled. “The point is…” you continued with a deep sigh, and huge smile, “I’m glad you’re back for good, baby”

Except for his own smile, it vanished right then. And in turn, his eyes watered and they shone, reflecting nothing but desperation and vulnerability. You took pride in being the one to witness it, just as you did that fateful night a few months back. Stroking your head with both hands, his forehead gently touched yours:

“¡Eres mia!” He breathed deep.

You’re mine!

How dare he? Expanding with immense warmth and impatience, it did not take long for your heart to gain rapid pace, as it was your very first time.

“¡Si, para siempre!” You answered with confidence. For it was simply the truth.

Yes, Forever!

——————————————————

Index

UCLA : The University of California, Los Angeles Salud: Spanish term for “Cheers!” Guapa: Spanish term for Beautiful, Gorgeous Taquitos: A Mexican Food Dish Pisto: Mexican slang. A general term for an alcoholic beverage (usually beer) USC: University of Southern California Fallujah: A city in Iraq Papi: Spanish Term for Daddy Puta: Derogatory Spanish term for bitch, whore

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patchessolostan · 3 years

Text

vertigo

a snippet of a dnf fic i’m kinda working on. 1.8k, canon-ish

Isn’t it strange, how sometimes, certain smells can inspire old feelings, can awaken memories that seemed to be forgotten? The delicate pathways in our brains weaved together in unintended ways, so tight and durable, and yet completely slipping past our radar.

For example, love, to George, smells like oranges.

It’s one of his first ever memories: a Christmas morning two decades ago, the faint tickle of his wool sweater, the subtle warmth of the sun spilling down his back. And his mother’s hands, skin soft and unmarred, neat, rounded nails digging into the orange, carefully peeling it and then splitting its tender flesh. It’s hazy at best, but the smile on her face, his father’s laughter, the sweet juice spilling past his lips—they’re as clear as day still.

He thinks there’s no amount of time that could fade the memory of that warmth from his chest.

So, perhaps George should’ve known his fate since the day Dream told him his shampoo is orange scented.

But then again, who's to say he would've wanted to change a single thing?

“I’ll wear the brightest blue clothes I have,” Dream promises, and George can hear the grin in his voice. He always can, whenever the topic of George’s approaching visit comes up. “So much blue, you’ll want to vomit when you see me.”

“That seems counter-productive,” George answers, giggling when Dream sighs dramatically.

“Fine,” he relents when George quiets down. “It’ll be a mild headache. I’m sure you can deal with that.”

I think I could deal with anything, as long as I get to meet you, George thinks, and despite his fluttering heart and shaking hands, he doesn’t say it.

“I hate you both. This is unfair,” Sapnap speaks up after staying silent for five solid minutes while they talked about the upcoming trip. George practically jumps and starts giggling again. “It is so unfair, you both suck, and I’ll fucking block you. Try me.”

“Oh no,” Dream wheezes out, and the sound of both his and George’s laughter easily conceals Sapnap’s muttered insults and protests.

“C’mon,” George says eventually. “At least you know how he looks like. I’m crossing the ocean to meet a fucking stranger.”

“...fair enough,” Sapnap agrees, and Dream just wheezes harder.

George bites his lip before letting his grin fully unfurl as he stares down at his fidgeting fingers.

I’m meeting him.

He wants to scream. Instead George just gently smacks his forehead on his desk.

Ever since the plans get made, the ticket bought (Dream insists on paying, despite George’s half-assed protests), time seems to move both incredibly fast and insanely slow.

Still, soon enough there’s only a week left to his flight. And yet... George feels like every waking hour takes three more to pass. And it’s not like he can waste the hours away by sleeping, like before.

Now every time he lays down and closes his eyes, all George can think of are warm arms around him. All he can see in his mind is that still blurry face and a mess of dark blonde hair. That wheezy laugh in his ear, the Hello, George that Dream will inevitably whisper, so close that his breath will brush past his skin and set George alight from inside out.

It's already driving George crazy, and he's still almost 7 thousand kilometres away.

He packs his bag, and then pulls it apart while looking for a charger, and packs again, and again, and again, in a seemingly never-ending cycle of anxious fidgeting.

He starts planning three different videos at once and scrapes two of them once he's almost done.

He turns Twitter notifications off, and tries to keep his phone face down on the desk, but as the date creeps closer, it's getting harder and harder. Somehow, he seems to spend even more time talking to Dream, even if before it seemed almost impossible.

Despite his big words, Sapnap isn't actually upset. In fact, he's possibly just as excited as George, which he finds hilarious and annoying at once. And though Dream seems to agree with George, he doesn't try to calm neither of them down, instead just feeding the flames.

Surprisingly, the trio manage to keep the meetup plans from fans; that’s not to say that they don’t sense a new kind of tension between them. Every worried, questioning donation and tweet is hard to ignore, with the way George’s tongue itches with impatience.

For now, it feels too fragile, too private to share, at least until he plants his feet on the Florida soil, until he hears Dream laugh in real life and watches the way his face lights up in real time.

And then, as if no time at all has passed, it's here.

Tomorrow, Dream texts in lieu of goodnight. George flops over in his bed a few times, legs uncomfortably tangled in the sheets, bottom lip between his teeth.

Tomorrow, he answers, and it feels like a promise.

George curls his fingers around his phone, pushing it under the pillow, and then buries his face under it too, cheeks hot from the force of his smile.

That night is full of fitful, anxious sleep, and when George wakes, it’s with a start. He jumps up and stumbles out of bed in panic.

It's so quiet in the apartment—too quiet, too still, like the world itself has paused. His heart is racing as he scrambles through the sheets for his phone.

Did he oversleep? Did he miss the alarm? Did he even set an alarm? The memories of last night are hazy, and George thinks his heart will push out into his throat when his fingers finally brush against glass.

All breath rushes out of him when the screen turns on, a clear 6:41 AM on his lockscreen.

He's fine. The anxiety pulls back, leaving George's muscles weak and sleep-tired, so he slumps on the ruffled sheets.

Thought I overslept, almost had a heart attack, he sends to Dream, fully expecting him to laugh at his expense when he finally wakes up.

To George's surprise, the message gets read immediately.

I would’ve called you :), comes through, and before George can answer, Dream writes again.

I’ll have to call a cab for us. Haven’t slept since yesterday.

George huffs out an amused breath.

Would be a shame to kick the bucket right after meeting you, he replies and closes his eyes, placing the phone on his chest.

Now that the panic from before has subsided, another takes its place, slowly rising up and overtaking his pliant body like a tide.

There it is, the final dance, the last conversation where George can’t imagine the face behind the words; it’s just as frightening as it is thrilling. It’s bittersweet on his tongue, a piece of rotten fruit in his mouth.

He can’t help but wonder—what if it changes everything? What if it’s nothing like he expects? What if Dream realizes he can’t stand George when he can’t just leave the call?

George’s not a kid, he’s not all that naïve, and he’s well aware that people who work perfectly when there’s an ocean between them, can clash horribly once they share personal space. Life isn’t a fairy tale where everything works out perfectly, with a happy ending for everyone tied up in a neat bow.

His phone vibrates, scattering the restless thoughts, and George opens his eyes, pausing for a moment before finally lifting it.

At least I’d die a happy man.

He stares at his phone for a while, heart fluttering so hard, George barely manages to breathe in.

Perhaps he’s stupid enough to believe in good endings anyway.

Anxiety, however, smells like sweat and gasoline.

It didn’t always, but now George doesn’t think he could ever be in an airplane and not remember this day. Sitting in a packed airplane, left leg jumping up and down, fingers tightly gripping his elbows, as George stares through the window and waits for the plane to take off. Begging, pleading his mind to change gears, think of anything else but the upcoming moment.

A child whines behind him, some lady argues with the flight attendant, the doors close, the engine starts, and then UK is just a smear of colours underneath him.

He leans back and lets time and space run its course.

The Orlando airport is a mess of sounds and lights that grate on George’s groggy mind as he slowly makes his way to the baggage claim. His phone is quiet, and he can’t help but keep glancing at it, knowing full well there’s no answer to his short I’m here.

Fear firmly grips his throat in a fist, a cruel voice whispering dreadful forecast, no matter how hard George tries to not listen.

He’ll take one look at you, and he’ll see, it promises as George waits for his suitcase to show up. He’ll figure it out, now that there’s no screen to hide behind. And he’ll be disgusted. He’ll ask you to leave.

Dream wouldn’t, George wants to argue; but then again. Just how well does he know Dream?

This is the first time he’ll see him, and they’ve known each other for years now. There could be a stranger behind the screen, one not as kind and wonderful as the Dream he’s used to. One that would—

“George?”

The all-too-familiar voice stops George in his tracks, and his muscles lock up, brain painfully blank as he worries his bottom lip.

Eventually, perhaps after way too long, George turns around.

And there he is.

He’s wearing a navy t-shirt and blue jeans, just as promised, and his smile is so wide it takes up half of his face, and George can’t tear his gaze away from it. He knows he should be exploring the face that’s brand new to him, committing all the features to memory so even weeks later, they’d be perfect and fresh.

And yet, it’s those peach-pink lips he can’t stop staring at, like some stereotypical fool.

“Dream?” he whispers, though his feet don’t dare to move.

“I knew I should’ve worn something brighter,” Dream says. His voice is light, and happy, and he’s coming closer, and George can’t quite breathe in, his chest seized in an iron grip.

He wants to answer with a quip, a joke, the way he could when it was just the two of them in a Discord call, but he realizes any words would be followed by tears; and that’s just not the way to make a first impression.

So, George stays quiet and lets his suitcase drop when Dream wraps his arms around him.

Dream is so warm. The cotton of his shirt is soft underneath George’s palms. He smells like summer, like citrus fruit and the ocean, and George almost instinctively buries his nose in his shoulder.

Dream’s breath stutters near George’s ear.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispers, lips brushing over George’s skin and sending waves of heat and cold down to his toes.

“Me too,” he answers, and pulls his best friend even closer, feeling complete and safe for the first time in a long, long while. “Me too.”

#dreamnotfound #dnf #dnf fic #boy idk i kinda have ideas for more but im just #v bad at actually sitting down and writing lately #anyway posting this after some wine so whoops hope yall like it #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #dtblrt #mcytblr #prsnl.txt #my fic #also idk if ill keep this title or nah kinda into one word titles but kinda wanna go back to my dumb poetry quotes so we'll see how itll #turn out #my writing

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jettingtothemoon · 4 years

Text

Gentle

➳ pairing: dabi x shigaraki tomura ➳ genre: smut and a very tiny pinch of fluff ➳ warnings: biting, hand job, masturbation, orgasm denial, oral, rough sex, anal, fingering, unprotected sex, slight pain kink ➳ word count: 1058 ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ summary: In which neither of them really understand what they’re feeling. ➳ a/n: requested on ao3

No one said being a villain was a lonely business. Although, for most, it was. One particular soul, lost to loneliness his whole life, was Shigaraki Tomura. A boy with no family, no friends, and no home. The successor to the most dangerous villain in the world, All For One.

Shigaraki had grown into a young adult who did not know how to deal with his own emotions. The only ones he understood were anger, hate and frustration. There was no happiness, there was no joy, there was no love. He didn't know how to feel those emotions.

Even now he does not know. Although, he is trying to understand. Even if only a little bit more. He's trying to understand because of him, because of Dabi.

Their relationship was unlike most. If you could even call it a relationship. They both felt something, although Dabi simply denied it and Shigaraki just didn't understand it. Although, that certainly didn't stop them from acting on it.

As of right now, they sit in Shigaraki's room. Shigaraki playing video games whilst sitting in Dabi's lap. It was not a common scene, the two rarely sat holding each other, but for today, they decided that sitting like this for a while wouldn't hurt.

Dabi had his head on Shigaraki's shoulder, face turned to watch the other as he played. Shigaraki knew of the eyes looking at him, occasionally flickering to different features of his face. His dried skin, chapped lips, the small mole on the underside of his mouth. Then, they'd look at his ruby eyes, watching them shoot about as they looked at the screen.

Their peaceful sitting had unexpectedly lasted much longer than either of them had thought it would. It had been at least a couple of hours since they returned to the confinement of his room, shutting out the rest of the league to sit quietly. Of course, after such a long time watching Shigaraki playing games, Dabi was growing somewhat impatient. Or, perhaps, he simply wanted to tease and mess with the other to distract him from his game.

Shigaraki didn't move when he felt a hand over his crotch. He simply continued playing his game, eyes briefly flicking towards Dabi to try and decipher what he was up to. Although he already knew the answer to that question.

He continued playing, deciding to ignore the man as he began to palm him softly through his jeans. Dabi could feel him reacting under his touch, dick getting harder by the second, at yet he still offered no reaction. So, to gain that reaction he wanted, Dabi softly rubbed his lips along the sensitive skin on Shigaraki's neck. Skin that had been scratched red and raw.

Shigaraki groaned, tilting his head to the side slightly to allow those lips better access to his skin. Only, instead of lips, he was soon met with teeth. Not that he was at all surprised, Dabi had a thing for biting him it seemed, maybe he just liked to mark what he claimed as his.

Despite the little moans and groans, Shigaraki was feeling more stubborn than usual and still continued to play his game, trying to spare the other man no thought as he slowly began to defile him. Only when his cock was freed from his jeans did he pause for a brief second, looking down at the hand that was wrapping around him. Of course, the moment he heard the sound of his character taking damage, his attention went back to the game.

"Come on boss, pay me some attention." Dabi groaned into his ear, pulling at his lobe almost painfully with his teeth.

Shigaraki did not give in, although he knew the desire for attention all too well. Despite the lack of reaction, Dabi began to work his hand up and down, lips once again on Shigaraki's neck. With his other hand, he pulled at the loose t-shirt that hung over Shigaraki's body, allowing it to drape over his shoulder slightly so that his lips could wet the skin there too.

His skin was so interesting, so full of texture. Dry and flaky in places, sore and red in others. The most unusual, however, were the soft parts, so soft and baby-like. They were the places his nails had not once scratched, the places that were almost normal. Of course, Dabi had his own interesting skin littered with purple burns and scars. They were quite the pair, similar in many ways but alike in none.

The soft skin of Shigaraki's shoulder was quite the change from the skin of his neck and, in being so, it was much easier to mark. He sucked and nipped until small bruises began to form, not caring that his boss would later scold him for it. All the while, his hand worked its magic.

When Shigaraki began to buck his hips slightly, chasing the high he was on the verge of reaching, Dabi tightened his grip around the throbbing cock in his hand. Shigaraki involuntarily whined at the pain of being denied the orgasm he was so close to, eyes angrily snapping to Dabi with a scowl.

"Naughty boys don't get to come."

Shigaraki groaned again when a hand snaked up under his t-shirt, fingers almost delicately gliding over his skin as they searched for his nipple. He began scratching his neck, holding his controller in one hand as he tore at the already sore skin. Dabi, however, stopped him by releasing his hold on his cock to grab his hand, pulling it away from his neck before he could do any further damage.

He kissed each of his fingers before pulling his hand to his mouth, kissing it as he began to flick and tug at Shigaraki's nipple.

"Careful, you might turn to dust." Shigaraki sneered, his words almost sounding like a threat.

Dabi simply chuckled, "You think I'm stupid enough to let you kill me? You think you're stupid enough to try?"

His hand returned to his cock, beginning to slowly pump it again followed by a particularly harsh squeeze on his nipple. Shigaraki groaned, head rolling back against Dabi's shoulder at the sensation tingling through his body.

Before he knew it, the video game Shigaraki was playing became nothing but a distraction, a distraction they soon turned off.

Although tight in Dabi's hold, Shigaraki attempted to move around to face the other, which Dabi allowed, harsh hands pulling him back into his lap the moment he had turned around. In a second, their lips were connected, tongues intruding mouths as those rough hands tugged at his shaggy hair.

They broke apart for a moment, allowing Dabi to tug his own shirt off before stripping Tomura of his. Then, he pushed him away to stand up, pulling him along by the wrist before throwing him onto the bed.

He rid Shigaraki of his remaining clothes as he climbed onto the bed, crawling up until he was facing the leaking cock he had been teasing moments before. Without warning, he took him in his mouth, sucking patiently. Although that patience could also be seen as torture to Shigaraki, who so desperately needed nothing more than to release his load as soon as possible after already being denied that luxury earlier.

So, as Dabi slowly ran his tongue up the underside of his cock, although it felt so good, with how sensitive he already was from being denied once, it made his whole body shiver.

"F- Fuck, suck it like you mean it." Shigaraki commanded, hands already pushing Dabi down onto him.

Usually, Dabi would snuff this dominant side right out of Tomura and show him that he is the one in charge but, today, he was less bothered than usual. He allowed Shigaraki to control his pace, pulling his head about as he bucked into him, face fucking him as he once again tried to reach that high.

He offered no warning when he came, allowing himself to spill into Dabi's mouth, a decision he would likely regret by the time they were through. Although, rather than spitting it out, Dabi, almost too obediently, swallowed it all.

Shigaraki smirked, lifting his head from where it had fallen back into the pillow to look at the other man, "I thought naughty boys didn't get to come?"

Dabi simply shrugged and began to crawl back up over Shigaraki, trapping him beneath him as he began to remove the last of his clothes.

"Maybe I was feeling generous."

With his words, he flipped the two of them over so that Shigaraki was straggling his lap, hands already pressing to his chest to stabilise him. Of course, with his pinkies raised.

If he had really wanted to kill Dabi, he would have. Before, when they first met, his threats were true but now they were empty. He didn't know why he wanted to keep Dabi around but that didn't change the fact that he did. He wanted to keep him close, to keep him near. Maybe he just liked the attention, maybe he just liked the sex, but maybe, just maybe, he felt something for him.

"Now, ride me like a good boy and maybe I'll let you come again." Dabi demanded, hands almost soothingly running along the dips in Tomura's waist.

Everything between them was like this. Every touch rough but still holding an underlying gentleness. It was their way of showing that they cared, even if they themselves didn't realise it. They would hurt each other but they would never leave their comfort zones, never push it too far. Even if they didn't know it, they wanted each other to be comfortable. They didn't want to push each other away. They were both afraid of losing this, whatever this was. They were both afraid of being alone again.

Shigaraki leaned to the side, reaching for the drawer beside his bed to grab the bottle of lube. As he removed the lid, he looked down at Dabi and poured the contents out over his fingers, not caring that some of it dripped down onto Dabi's chest.

He raised his hips, hand reaching around himself for his ass, and began to massage the muscle around his hole before slipping a finger in. He was used to this and so, before long, he inserted another. Dabi looked up, hooded turquoise eyes watching as Shigaraki prepared himself.

The latter closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of his fingers as his cock began to grow once again. Of course, Dabi wasn't going to wait very long, even if the sight before him was a beautiful one.

He sat up, lips to Tomura's ear as he hummed, "My turn."

Shigaraki pulled his fingers out, rubbing what was left of the lube over Dabi's waiting cock before lining it up with himself. He sank down with a moan, enjoying the feeling of being stretched on the familiar length.

"Feel good?" Dabi asked, pulling Shigaraki's earlobe between his teeth.

Tomura hummed, nails already digging into Dabi's back as he adjusted to the feeling for a moment before the hands on his hips began to lift him only to suddenly drop him back down.

"F-fuck. Some warning next time?"

With a low chuckle, Dabi's lips were back on Tomura's shoulder, teeth gently sinking into the skin as he began to thrust up into him. The pace was a little too sudden for Tomura but he soon found himself adjusting to the familiar feeling. The more he grew used to it, the more he bounced his own hips, making sure that he would feel Dabi within the deepest part of him.

Not a word was said between them. They just held each other close, bodies pressed together as they chased their high. This was as passionate as it got between them, as gentle as their heated encounters would probably ever be. They both liked it rough, being any more gentle than this would probably take the enjoyment out of it. This was just right, perfect even.

Being careful not to touch Dabi with all five of his fingers, Shigaraki held tightly onto his shoulders for support. Before long, one of his hands was snaking between them, aiming to provide his cock with the friction it was throbbing for.

Shigaraki sucked in a breath when Dabi harshly bit into his shoulder, hand wrapping around Tomura's wrist, preventing him from touching himself. His tongue came out, lapping over the sore and broken skin as if trying to soothe it, and then he looked up into those crimson eyes with a tut.

"Show me how good I make you feel. Be a good boy and come only from the back." His sultry words had Shigaraki's back arching which allowed him to hit a particular sweet spot with his next thrust.

"F-fuck," Tomura groaned, biting down a brutally on his bottom lip, the metallic taste of blood spilling into his mouth, "There, right there!"

Dabi knew exactly what he was doing, exactly what Tomura needed, and continued to thrust upwards. He hit his prostate without fail every time. It wasn't surprising that Shigaraki came not long after, back arching as his head hung suspended in the air.

As he came, muscles clamping down around Dabi's length, the latter pushed his fingers into his hair, tugging at the silvery strands as he too finally reached his orgasm.

Heavy breathing followed as the two came down from their high. Shigaraki buried his head into Dabi's neck, body going limp in his arms.

Once he regained his strength, Shigaraki leaned back and climbed off of Dabi, whining ever so slightly as his, now limp, dick slid out of him. His legs gave way again and Dabi had to catch him as he fell back down onto his knees.

"You good?"

There was genuine concern lacing his voice and, although he didn't understand why, Tomura felt his heart flutter.

He nodded, "Y- Yeah. I'm okay. Just... tired."

Without a word, Dabi pulled him down so that he was lying on his chest, not caring for the cum that stained them both. He leaned down, pressing a kiss so gentle that it almost seemed as though it were from a lover, to Shigaraki's head.

#bnha #shigadabi #shigaraki x dabi #dabi x shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #dabi #bnha fanfiction #smut #shigadabi smut #fluff #shigadabi fluff

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 4 years

Note

YO SEBAS’ ROUTE HAS BEEN ANNOUNCED FOR JP I CANT WAIT!!! Do you have any theories of what could happen in his route?!?

Haha, yes, I saw this morning! For those who haven’t yet seen the announcement, it has been said that Sebastian’s route will be coming to the JPN version of Ikevamp on August 25th! It’s very exciting news, and I can’t wait to get started translating after I finish Dazai’s.

Honestly I’m finding this so many degrees of hilarious because I was like “oh ya I’m curious” at first, but after seeing that character introduction video with the lil forehead kiss and the horny as all HELL biting, I’m SLAMMING the horny button holy shit??? (I have that card CG in the JPN ver of the game on my phone and. lord jesus. That scowl. WILL HE STEP ON ME ONEGAI AKIHIKO)

Putting the rest under a cut bc is long and has some JPN ver spoilers:

That being said, let’s address the second part of the ask, shall we? Theories! If I’m honest I’m not surprised Sebastian was next on the docket, but I do admit I’m thoroughly surprised by the CG of him biting MC in earnest--he visibly draws blood on her neck and shoulder. This raises so many questions that are likely to be reiterated endlessly until his rt comes out in full, the most pressing of which is: does Sebastian turn into a vampire? Or is he just really into sadistic foreplay?

If I’m honest I sincerely don’t know if he’s fully turned, only because I’m trying to sort out the information we do have. Why turn into a vampire if the goal is to be with MC, who is also human? If we follow this course of thought, it doesn’t seem to make much sense, does it?

But then our boi Sebas is different in terms of his internalized conflict when compared to the vampires. Granted I may turn out to be wrong about this, but I think the two focal points of his route will be as follows: insecurity and the pursuit of knowledge. Remember that the reason Sebastian (our dearest Akihiko Sato) agrees to Comte’s proposal at all is his insatiable curiosity. I mean just think about it. If Comte told all that stuff about the mansion to someone in modern times, they would probably just figure he was a crazy person and go on with their day. But Sebas, the absolute madlad, agreed; he wanted to see if it was true, and to learn everything he could about people who exhibit extraordinary talent.

I foresee that this, however, may become a double-edged sword. Curiosity killed the cat, as they say. What I mean to say is that it could be very possible he might turn or undergo something similar to the changing process in order to experience what it’s like firsthand (whether to prove he can handle it or because he wants to understand the residents better/gather info). Furthermore, while Sebastian is curious--with no malicious intent at all--this doesn’t mean that envy is impossible in this kind of scenario, either. Admiration and envy are like two sides of a coin; depending on how one interprets information, they can skew to self-consciousness or inspiration. Given the content I’ve seen for Sebastian so far (and man has it been limited as all heck) I often get the implication that he truly does feel inadequate in some ways compared to the other men. As soon as MC chooses him a kind of overwhelming awareness of his normalcy begins; the implication that he is the wrong or lesser choice. Knowing this, I truly wouldn’t be surprised if problems arise as a result of this self-effacing.

(Note: I don’t think that about Sebastian at all, personally! I think he’s very mindful of others and really astute--to say nothing of his skill when it comes to the domestic sphere. I don’t think just anybody could do what he does, and he sells himself far too short. I always think of how the men call him the Ninja Butler and praise how capable he is, how they freely admit the place wouldn’t be the same without him. Sometimes I wish Sebas could see that, though I understand his concerns as well ;-; I’m always torn bc I’ll be like “I understand but alSO N O”)

Besides those latent insecurities, time to expand more on the pursuit of knowledge. In one way this drive might feed his self-derision; he might believe that the more he is able to do and understand and study, the more he can be of use/help other people. (Put simply his value as a person = the increasing extent of his knowledge in an almost linear relationship; without it he is nothing). On the other hand, I think he just genuinely enjoys collecting information the way he does! He likes assessing all the different ways people behave and why, and how this contributes to how they think and who they are. More insight offers him more ways to preoccupy his endlessly moving mind, but it also offers proximity with the subject in question. This to me is absolutely key--I think so much of his studying the great men is linked to his admiration, his wish to be like them and/or his wish to be close to them.

I’d like to address a quick reference to the drinking event that recently released in the ENG version of the app, if only to expand on/clarify where this is coming from. It essentially featured Sebastian and Napoleon sharing a drink together at a bar and in it, Sebastian speaks to the way that he encountered Napoleon in his life, and the reason why he grew so fond of him. He speaks to a childhood entirely detached from the people of his own time, roving through the shelves of libraries, reading endlessly to fill that void. It was a quote by Napoleon that caught his eye and inspired him, and ostensibly the words of people long past that gave him the strength to keep moving forward. This information, coupled with his strange excitement in Isaac’s rt introduction about how Isaac used to throw hands with people who mocked him seems to bring to the forefront a few things for me.

Sebastian is highly, highly individualistic: he doesn’t seem to care much about what is conventional or normal, only in what brings him joy and makes others comfortable/happy. His life is highly internal, but I sense no anti-sociality in this removal from societal expectations. He just lives his own way and tries not to trouble anyone. (This is also highly notable in his acute impatience with Dazai’s shenanigans/ineptitudes now and again; while he doesn’t always scold or explode, he shows a sharp and surprising impatience with willful/harmful/irresponsible behavior.) He’s tactful and measured, but highly excitable under the right circumstances. He also doesn’t seem to think much of his own life re: self-derision. Think Leonardo’s rt ending: he insists that the serial killer focus on him and not on MC, he tells her he has no qualms with dying if it means she’ll make it out alive. MC has to be the one to tell him to think more of his own life. As such I wouldn’t put it past him to have enough nerdy reckless energy to test the waters of being a vampire (all the better if it helps him understand the great men).

Comte once said it in an event story a few months ago, but I think he really hit the nail on the head in some respects. He says something to the effect of “His curiosity is admirable, but please Sebastian--some things are to remain private.” Sebastian doesn’t intend to be intrusive or malicious, he just likes knowing things for the sake of knowing. It’s about the cones answering his nerdy desire to piece things together, not stepping on people’s toes. (It’s nice too because Comte seems to understand this and doesn’t see it as a shortcoming/nuisance, he just tries to nudge Sebas in a different direction if he starts prying too close to people’s personal business ;-; pls pardon the Comte love I just can’t help myself)

Enter Johann Georg Faust.

Now then we know very little about the reserved priest doctor, but there are tidbits of information that we can work with (or at the very least, stand out to me a lot). The one I would like to focus on for this explanation is the little blurb that appears when you open the Ikevamp app and it’s loading, providing something like trivia facts for each character. In the ENG app we got those early, but we don’t have the ones for our antagonists. Iirc, Faust’s reads something to the effect of “will often sneak substances into their (as in the castle residents Vlad and Charles’) food to test the effect of his concoctions on vampires.” There have been hints that Faust is to be our mad scientist of sorts; that he is experimenting under Vlad’s orders to find a reliable way to transform a human being into an immortal equivalent to that of a pureblood. But I have mentioned on more than one occasion that I really don’t think Faust is only doing all of this for Vlad. He has his own curiosity that is seeking to be alleviated, perhaps he is satisfied with having another puzzle dumped in his lap--a means to distract himself and exhaust his faculties.

(One has to wonder if Vlad turned them under the same principle of desperation, and if that were the case, what Faust and Charles might desire more than anything else...Is Faust operating on a kind of necessity to atone? Has he simply given up hope that scientific advancement can happen without someone getting hurt, and so he does his best to balance the good and bad wrought by his explorations? Is he trying to bring someone back himself, is he trying to stall Vlad’s efforts in his own way? I really can’t be sure; there are just too many unanswered questions when it comes to Faust...)

This is where Sebastian and Faust begin to overlap. The pursuit of knowledge, an insatiable curiosity, a capacity to overreach the bounds of appropriate civility/decorum to get the information they want. It could potentially serve as a temptation for Sebas; become a vampire by Vlad’s hand and you can watch history over the span of generations. Assist in the development of an immortal, and you won’t even need someone like Comte to walk you through the different eras of time--you could explore yourself. While Sebas seems to be motivated more by service to other people, there can be no doubt that this could cause a great deal of friction. He will have to work to remind himself why he’s doing what he does and what it means to him, and whether or not becoming a vampire is truly what he wants.

But, there is also the issue of Vlad’s telepathic manipulations. Is it possible that an encounter with Faust (and by extension, proximity to Vlad/meeting Vlad head-on) could result in Sebastian being turned/experimented on without his knowledge? I.e. Vlad using his compulsion and sending him home with a word or memory of what happened. Though that’s certainly not the only possible explanation available. The other thing I was thinking about was a mechanic that was introduced in event stories prior to Sebas’ MS announcement. In the event story, MC and her suitor of choice encounter a street merchant that boasts a serum that can turn people into vampires. They, of course, don’t believe him--but the vial is procured and MC either purposefully or accidentally is exposed to it (i.e she knocks it over and it shatters in Leo’s ES). For a brief time, she exhibits vampiric qualities; she feels the thirst for blood as acutely as any of the other vampires in the mansion. I.e. In Napoleon’s ES, Sebas notices something wrong with MC when they’re just pouring vials of Rouge--the usual prepwork--and she runs out of the room looking dazed. Her odd/new instincts are only alleviated when she bites and drinks Napoleon’s blood, but after that single episode she shows no further signs of vampiric qualities. It’s a temporary but acute transformation. While I have no specifics as to how this is possible, I have to wonder if something similar might be done to Sebastian; whether as a means to test him (does he really want this? find out after the commercial break) or a kind of trick/trap laid by the antagonists. I remain unsure, but these are the two most likely explanations that come to mind if he hasn’t been fully turned.

As to whether or not his vampirism will be permanent, I’ve genuinely been oscillating on that one. I think it’s certainly possible given his intrigue (I never see much fear in him) with vampirism and his probable enjoyment with the prospect of an endless life learning about things (I can literally hear Leonardo screaming internally and I’m ngl it’s sad and funny). But there’s also something about the bite CG that speaks to strain/alarm, to surprise--that he wasn’t at all aware of the changes within himself--and I have to wonder if it might put him off of the prospect (like that he lost control/hurt MC)...Essentially I think it will just really boil down to how the symptoms come about (temporary or permanent), and how much his affections for MC might deter that curiosity/possible wish (if temporary, he might not touch the prospect again--if permanent, THAT WOULD BE SO FUCKING SEXY BECAUSE I’d wager the rest of the route might be MC trying to help him adjust/recover IN A SEXY WAY).

(Note post-translation: I fucking HATE IT HERE. The bite CG text says smth to the effect of “The bloodlust is unbearable--stay away from me; I don’t think I’ll be able to keep from attacking you.”) In light of this information, I am this 👌 close to launching myself straight into the sun. OFC his route is gonna be sweet as all shit and then it’s just gonna go downhill from there with angst. WHYYYYYYYYYY AKIHIKO (at least his voice is mega sexy and heals my wounds OTL) It also says something about “a fate that is greatly moved” so that does suggest a more permanent change than the temporary alternatives I mentioned (though we all know how Cybird loves to jerk us around so I’m leaving that up for debate)...this shit better be hurt/comfort or i s2g im throwing hands

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THE ANTICIPATION IS KILLING ME!!!!!!!

Here’s hoping he’ll make for a delightful surprise! I’m looking forward to it c:

#asks #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp akihiko sato #ikevamp meta #bruh i woke up to so much yelling and im still reeling from the developments #hello????? sebas lookin tender AND sexy and im ngl i am v much here for it my ass pass is SHAKING #i genuinely didn't think i'd be this curious/intrigued but now that i saw the introduction vid im just #👉👈 i am looking RESPECTFULLY #man im quaking i guess its time to translate all the sebas stories i have and think about my hubris #like i thought sebas would be the whole 'you get a human suitor if you dont want the vampire stuff as much'#and so i was like #'i do not see my ass loves vampires too much for this'#but then he went vamp in the preview and im just YEAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!! **RIPS SHIRT OPEN**#bruh this changes literally everything #come here you giant nerd and let me punch a whole straight through that v card #history aint got nothin on this dynamite [REDACTED]#rambles #anywho if you need me ill be replaying the vid over and over again #ty cybird for sparing some serotonin in these trying times LMAO

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wickfursfanfics · 4 years

Text

10.08 - Hungry

My entry for DCMKEmogust2020! It’s a little late, I’m behind this week xD but oh well.

*Attempted humour *KaiShin

Prompt of the day - Hungry

Ever since Kaito had started to live with the detective a year ago. He had noticed a pattern.

When Kaito and Shinichi would go to bed. Both their breaths would even out in sleep, and peace would settle over their room.

But then, sometimes in the middle of the night Kaito would wake up because of him being a light sleeper. Being woken up by his detective leaving the room. He just assumes he was going to the toilet and he would quickly fall asleep again with that knowledge.

But one night he had been awake enough to notice that Shinichi wasn't back until a full 30 minutes later. What had he been doing all that time? The detective just lay down on his bed and falls asleep again like nothing was wrong.

After that night he had started to sense this pattern about the whole thing.

1. Shinichi would always wake up at the unholy hour of 3am.

2. He took around 30 to 40 minutes each time.

3. The kitchen felt strangely disturbed. Like someone had been there after they fell asleep.

4. The fridge felt more empty than usual after one of his night strolls.

Kaito, feeling suspicious about the whole thing. Decides to set up his hidden cameras in the kitchen, the halls and their bedroom.

---

Shinichi isn't very happy with the discovery.

"Kaito what is this?" He asks, glaring. Holding out the offending devices he had found. Woops.

"Hidden cameras" Kaito answers innocently.

Shinichi rolls his eyes. "I know it's hidden cameras, Baro. What I want to know is, why they are set up in our kitchen" he says impatiently.

Kaito gulps unnoticeably and comes up with a suitable lie.

"I thought I heard a racoon the other night and wanted to make sure we weren't being robbed of all our food" he lied smoothly.

There, nailed it. It's a half truth anyway, though Shinichi is easily the cutest racoon he knows.

The detective sighs.

"Just take them down please" he says, putting down the cameras on the kitchen counter. He then makes his way out of the room, presumably towards the library.

"Alright dear!" He yells. He woops in triumph internally, he hadn't noticed all the other cameras.

"And take down the ones in the halls and our bedroom too you pervert!" Shinichi hollered from the library. Damn.

Kaito deflates in disappointment. He would just have to do this in a different way it seems.

---

When he and Shinichi went to sleep that night. Kaito sneaked up and put up some traps to try and deterre the detective. He might avoid them so he had to set up, a few. Maybe 10 just to be sure.

When the night gave way to morning and Kaito woke up. He trudged tiredly out into the hall and promptly laid eyes on his detective. He was sleeping strangely soundly in one of his rope-net traps. No indication of him knowing he was there. How odd.

Feeling a little guilty of letting his detective sleep in such a bad place he took him down and put him in their bed.

When the detective woke up from his slumber, he was grumpy and beyond irritated the whole day. Making Kaito's day a hell. Why would him, deterring his nightly stroll make him so grumpy and wanting so much coffee? He decides it's a bad idea for his health to try the traps a second time.

---

For the next night Kaito decides to just follow his detective the old fashioned way.

When he wakes from Shinichi leaving the room at 3am. He quietly follows him down the hall on light phantom steps. He knew Shinichi would notice him eventually. But strangely enough he never calls him out on it.

Soon enough they reach the kitchen and Kaito watches in intrest from his hiding spot. As the detective takes out pots, pans and other kitchen wares. Ingredients of all kinds get handled with such expertise Kaito has a hard time believing it isn't a dream. His detective is one of those people who could burn cooked eggs if given enough time to do so. He was a mess in the kitchen.

After setting out something that suspiciously looked like something from food wars. The detective started to eat it with gusto so unlike his detective. He was usually never hungry…

After he had devoured the divine looking meal, he quickly set about cleaning up the kitchen so it basically looked untouched since Kaito used it. After that he headed straight to bed, not once questioning Kaito's presence. If that wasn't odd nothing was.

---

For several nights he continued to observe his detective's strange habit of making mouth watering foods in the middle of the night. He was a bit jealous that Shinichi got to eat it all. And he hadn't called Kaito out on being in the room once. Even though he had started to observe from the very open and easy to notice doorway.

---

Then one morning he decided to get to the bottom of this.

He watches as the sleepy detective sluggishly makes his way around the kitchen. His slippered feet dragging as he nurses his mug of coffee like it was the only thing keeping him coherent enough to walk. Which was probably true.

"You know" he drawls as Shinichi gets his customary toast from the toaster. And slowly heads towards his kitchen chair looking like a zombie. "Maybe you wouldn't be this tired every morning if you didn't get up in the middle of the night"

Shinichi turned drowsy and confused eyes his way. An elegant "what??" escaping his mouth. He then continued with "What are you talking about Kaito?" He yawned out.

"Well, you know. You waking up at 3am every night to make gourmet worthy food" he groused.

He was honestly feeling a little betrayed. He was the one making dinner for the two of them everyday. Because Shinichi was frankly, terrible in the kitchen. So he has been lied to, Shinichi is amazing in the kitchen and is a terrible boyfriend for not letting Kaito eat with him.

Shinichi looked even more confused if it was possible.

"Kaito, you know I can't even manage to cook eggs without somehow burning the water… How do you expect me to be able to make gourmet food?" He made a face "What kind of dreams are you having exactly?"

The utter denial from his detective honestly hurt, why would he lie to him like this?

But, he decided. He would just have to catch him in the act. Film it all if he had to. Detective's love their evidence after all.

---

That night Kaito took his phone with him and immediately started to film as his detective made it out of bed. He filmed the red numbers of 3am at his alarm clock and slowly followed the detective down the stairs to the crime scene. Namely the kitchen.

He hanged back in the doorway for a while. Letting Shinichi gather his ingredients and utensils before he approached with purpose.

He, as loudly as he could walked over and clearly filmed as Shinichi expertly handled the ingredients and his knife. Chopping the vegetables like he had done this thousands of times before. But he didn't even flinch at his presence. Not even when he thrusts his phone into his vision.

"There detective! I now even have evidence, you won't believe I know of this otherwise right?" He sneers. He was not pouting, nuh uh.

But the detective just continued to load stuff into the pan like Kaito wasn't even in the room. Kaito watches for a few seconds as Shinichi uses his spatula. Oblivious to his presence in any shape or form. Before he feels enough is enough. He doesn't like to be ignored, especially by his detective.

Kaito waved a hand Infront of his eyes. "Oi Meitantei, quit ignoring me" he says annoyed. The camera on his phone was still recording. But he was getting a little concerned.

"Shinichi, hello~ You okay?" He still didn't respond. He took the spatula out of his hand with minimal effort and zero protests from the detective. Moving the pan from the burner and turning it off. Then he turned Shinichi's face towards his own.

"Shin-chan?" He asked worriedly. The detective didn't give any indication of even seeing him. Kaito tilts his head in confusion, what was going on?

When he let go of his chin he immediately went back to what he was doing and continues to cook. Like he was in a trance. Like he was-

Then it clicked. Is he- is he sleepwalking? Sleep-cooking?? Kaito was utterly stunned as he continued to film the sleepwalking detective do magic on the stove.

When the meal was finished the detective took out a plate and put it by the stove. Plating himself some food.

Kaito poofed forth his own plate to see if he would do anything with it. And would you look at that, he automatically plated some food for him too. Kaito chuckled to himself in Humor at the discovery as Shinichi sat down to eat.

Since he wasn't feeling very hungry at the unholy hours of night he decided to just give it a taste test.

As soon as it touched his tongue he moaned unabashedly at the heavenly taste. It was so good~ (*´▽`*)♡

He took another bite just for the hell of it before he covered the plate with plastic wrap and put it in the fridge. It was evidence after all. That, and he could eat it for breakfast in the morning.

When Shinichi was finished he cleaned up like he always did before he went up to their room to sleep. Kaito followed him up with a spring in his step. He will have a field day showing this to his detective in the morning. He couldn't wait.

---

You could practically see the detective’s sleep-addled mind start to move as Kaito put down the plate of food on the table between them.

"What's this?" He asked sleepily into his coffee.

"This, is the food you made in the whee hours of 3am" he answered nonchalantly. Shinichi just looked down at the food bewildered. Kaito took pity on him and pulled out his phone. He pulled up the video and watched with glee the show of emotions fleeting over the detective’s face.

Shinichi choked on his coffee "What- I never- I didn't-" he spluttered out, as he watched himself do what, to him, was impossible. "I don't remember any of this..." he mutters with a hand to his head.

When the video came to the part where Kaito tried to make contact with him, the detective made a disturbed but fascinated sound. "I'm… sleepwalking in the middle of the night to make food" he said slowly "And I'm somehow capable of not burning anything" he said glancing to the plate on the table like it would eat him.

"Seems so" Kaito said cheerily. He grinned as a thought struck him "At least this explains one mystery" he said mischievously.

Shinichi raises an eyebrow in a silent question.

"This explains how you can seemingly go a whole day surviving on nothing but a toast, coffee and fumes" Kaito snickers.

The detective snorted at that "I guess so" then his humor diminished and he turned thoughtful "But it doesn't explain why I can't use this skill while I'm awake"

Kaito blinked "No idea. Maybe your logical mind gets in the way when you are awake"

"You mean I shouldn't think?" He scoffs at that "That is bound to lead to an accidentally cut finger or other injuries"

Kaito just chuckles "But, if we do this right" he began "We could use your sleepwalking to make dinner for the both of us every other day" he reasoned.

Shinichi grumbled an affirmative into his coffee.

Guess his skills could be used after all.

END

#DCMKEmogust2020 #dcmk #Detective Conan #Magic Kaito #KaiShin #attempted humour #Wick writes sometimes #My writing #Emogust2020 #Kudo Shinichi #Kuroba Kaito #I have no idea what this is supposed to be xD #But here you go

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thebluenoteblog · 4 years

Text

Oh, Baby

Summary: Your lie leads to a fight which leads to a silent treatment and a very interesting hockey game.

Player: Colton Parayko

Word Count: 3.5k

Requested: Can i request a fic with colton where he and y/n fighting or having an argument but he has to leave for the road trip the next day so you don't have time to apologize then when you want to call him to apologize turns out he calls you first? I really like all your fics! Bur really love the colton ones! Good job!

You sat on the bathroom floor staring blankly at the wall with the test grasped loosely in your fingers. What a colossal fuck up. What a massive, grade A, absolute fuck up. You tossed the test up angerly into the sink then sunk back against the wall with your head in your hands. You’d done it now. You’d really gone and ruined everything.

You were pregnant.

You had only been dating Colton for six months and the idea of sitting him down right now and telling him that you were having his baby was the most terrifying nightmare that you could imagine. You had faith in him. You knew he wouldn’t walk out on the baby. But… what if he walked away from you? What if he did something even crazier like… propose?

You allowed your head to fall back, smacking against the wall as your eyes fell closed. Literal nightmare. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and looked up the number for your doctor’s office. There was no sense in telling him anything until after everything was confirmed by a blood test and an ultrasound.

You scheduled an appointment for the next week and climbed back to your feet, buried the test in the bottom of the trash can then opened the door. There wasn’t any time to sit on the bathroom floor and be pathetic. The game came was coming on in a few minutes.

****

Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump.

You stared at the monitor in awe as tears filled your eyes. That little blob was your little blob and you loved it. It had a heartbeat and as you were answering the doctor’s questions about yours and Colton’s genetic histories you had come to realize something else. This baby was half Colt.

You could picture a baby boy with the palest skin, lightest blonde hair and the brightest blue eyes, always filled with curiosity. You could see a toddler on his first pair of skates wobbling around the ice. A little boy running around the playground always faster than everyone else, so much taller than all of the other kids in his class. More determined to succeed than the other kids and doing it effortlessly but doing it so quietly and humbly that no one noticed.

For the first time since the positive had shown up on that pregnancy test you were happy. The problem was you still didn’t have any idea what to expect from Colton when you told him. Because now not only were you pregnant but you’d known for a week and neglected to tell him. For three days you’d had an excuse while he finished up his road stint, but he had been home for six and was leaving the next day. Still you’d neglected to spill.

You had the excuse of the doctor’s appointment until today.

Which meant you had to tell him tonight.

You prayed for a win.

“You look to be measuring at around five weeks,” the doctor said casting a smile in your direction before she returned her gaze to the screen to snap a few pictures. “The baby’s heartbeat is strong. Everything looks great.”

You walked out of the appointment with three pictures of your little baby, a video of his heartbeat and the feeling of a piano having been lifted off of your chest but chained to your ankle.

****

They lost. Badly.

You left Enterprise right after the game and headed home without waiting for Colton. You sent him a quick text message simply: come over to my place. I’ll cook for you.

He didn’t respond right away but you didn’t expect him to. Half an hour later he responded with: I’ll be on my way soon.

You were moving around your kitchen throwing the ingredients of a dish that you knew he loved together in a way that you had memorized by this point when he walked into the house. “Kitchen!” You called anxiously.

You had yet to decide whether or not you were going to tell him about the baby after their horrendous loss to the Canes. So, when he walked into the kitchen all smiles you were relieved. You were expecting a grumpy Colton, not a happy one.

“Do you just call out what room you’re in every time someone walks into the house?” He asked, “What if I was someone breaking in?”

“I live in the suburbs.” You said while stirring the pot on the stove, “The worst crime I’ve seen since I moved into this neighborhood was some kid setting up confetti cannons to go off when people opened their front doors.” You looked up, “That’s why I’m thankful I don’t have a storm door.”

“There’s a first for everything,” He said moving closer to look over your shoulder at what you were cooking. He studied it for a moment then asked, “Is this pity food?”

You laughed, “No.”

“Is it…” He paused, “Guilt food?” He studied you and you avoided his eyes, focusing your attention on the pot and stirring with more focus than was probably needed. “It is guilt food!” He exclaimed, stepping around you to lean against the counter so he could see your face. “What did you do?” He asked.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Who says I did anything?”

“You’re making me guilt food, you basically admitted it.” He said, “That means you did something. So, spill. It obviously isn’t that big of a deal or you’d be more concerned. What, did your ex leave you more flowers?” You shook your head, “Did you wear one of the other guys jerseys to the game?” You just laughed in response, “Come on your killing me here, (Y/N).”

“You have to eat the guilt food first,” you said with a laugh. “I wouldn’t even say it’s guilt food… just… put you in a good mood food.”

He groaned and stepped behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist, pressing himself against your back and using his free hand to brush the hair off of your neck. He pressed a kiss to the bare skin of your shoulder just above the line of your shirt. “Come on, tell me. You know I don’t like to wait.”

You sighed as he continued the trail up the side of your neck then whispered in your ear, “Please, (Y/N/N)?”

Well, he’d done it. He found your weakness. Your brain was only halfway functioning as you whispered, “I’m pregnant.”

You didn’t realize the words had come out of your mouth until you felt him freeze behind you. After his long pause you were halfway expecting him to drop his arms, back away, and retreat from the room, maybe even your house. But he didn’t. He pulled the wooden spoon out of your hand and placed it on the counter then took half a step backwards, so he had room to turn you around. Now that you were facing him he looked into your eyes and in the most dazed, confused voice you’d ever heard leave his mouth, asked, “What did you just say?”

You hesitated for a moment, biting your lip as he stared down at you. You could tell he was beginning to get impatient when finally, you managed to tell him for the second time, “I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby.”

His eyes widened but he didn’t say anything, clearly shocked into silence. You would give him his moment though. He was still taking it better than you had. He hadn’t thrown anything. You lowered your eyes to the floor, took a deep breath and then twisted to turn off the burner.

When you turned back to face him Colton was staring at your stomach. “There’s a baby in there?” He asked quietly. He still sounded confused. Not angry. Not indignant. Just confused like he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the idea of there being a tiny human running around the world with his looks and your stubbornness.

“Yeah,” You said, “I went to my first ultrasound today. I have the pictures if you want to see them.”

He slowly looked up from your stomach to meet your eyes. “You went to the ultrasound without me?”

You licked your lips nervously while shifting your weight from foot to foot. It hadn’t really occurred to you that he might want to go to this appointment. He was so busy with playoffs coming up and you had been so upset about being pregnant at the time that you had just assumed he would be as well. Though somehow judging by the hurt look in his eyes it seemed like a bad idea to tell him that you thought that he wouldn’t be interested in going. “I wanted to be sure before I said anything. I didn’t want to worry you unless I had to.”

“How long have you known?” He asked now taking a step back.

You responded slowly after an awkward pause, “A week.”

“How could you keep something like this from me for a week, (Y/N)?” He asked. He wasn’t yelling, his voice was a controlled calm. “We’re supposed to be a team. You can’t lie to me about stuff this big.”

“What if it had been nothing?” You asked.

“Did you think it was nothing?” He responded, his tone rising for a second before he calmed it again. This was a man who laughed when people tried to punch him yet he was struggling to control his anger over something you had done.

Your lack of an answer was more than enough of an answer.

He crossed his arms and stared at the floor. You pulled your lip between your teeth and stared at him. There was a tense silence for some amount of time that seemed ungodly but probably wasn’t actually that long.

You shuffled your feet along the hardwood floors, “Are… are you mad at me?”

“Yes… yes (Y/N), I’m mad at you.” He said, and you winced because you didn’t even need a full hand to count the number of times that Colton had openly admitted to being mad at you in the six months you’d been together. “I’m already going to miss so much. I could have actually been there today. You didn’t even think to give me the choice.”

“Colt, I was scared!” You defended, arms crossed over your chest and chin stuck out stubbornly. You briefly felt a flash of pity for your boyfriend if the baby did, in fact, inherit your stubbornness.

“Of what, (Y/N)?” He asked, rather loudly for a man who prided himself on so rarely getting angry.

You snapped back, “Of what you would say! Of what you would do! I didn’t know if you would want to have a baby with me! What if you thought I was trying to baby trap you or something?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He asked, shaking his head. He took a step away from you. “Wow. I thought our relationship was a hell of a lot more than that. I thought you knew me better than that.”

“People do crazy shit when they’re stressed,” you told him, again finding yourself defending your position.

He just continued to stand and shake his head at you. After a tense silence he turned and walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. You followed, closely on his heal. “Where are you going?” you asked him.

“Home,” He said. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Colton do not walk out that door,” You stated with wide eyes as he pulled on his coat. He eyed you with a look that very clearly said I’d like to see your microscopic ass stop me.

He made it all the way there, had his hand on the door knob, then sighed. For a moment your heart lifted as you thought he had decided to stay. He turned to you, pressed his lips to your forehead and said, “I love you.”

Then he was gone.

****

You realized that you were wrong about five minutes after he walked out the door. Your pride however, would not allow you to call him and apologize. To be completely honest, you didn’t think he would answer if you did. You’d never seen him this angry with you. He had never walked away from you in the middle of a fight.

This time he’d completely left the house.

You’d expected him to stop by the next morning before he left and fix things. Nothing. Radio silence. Not even a text message.

Then he left town.

Without another word.

That was when you got an idea of how angry he really was. You could never imagine him doing this, let alone five minutes after finding out you were pregnant. It was so uncharacteristic for him. You’d really fucked up and you knew it.

But even the day he arrived in Boston you were too afraid to call him and apologize. Too afraid that he would ignore your call, send you to voice mail, or tell you that he was done with you. A thousand worse case scenarios ran through your head every waking moment of the day and hormone and fear induced nightmares destroyed any chance you had of regaining your sanity while you slept.

You almost didn’t watch them play the Bruins. You almost decided to sit in the bathtub with some music playing, tune out life and pretend that your world wasn’t falling apart. Though as you sat down on the side of the tub, before you even turned on the water, you sighed and shook your head.

You couldn’t miss the game.

You hadn’t missed a Blues game by choice since years before you’d started dating Colton. You weren’t going to be so petty that you chose this one to miss. For all you knew he would play amazing and you would miss it, then you would feel horrible and it would make the situation even worse.

So, you stood your miserable ass up, made your way into the living room and turned on the pregame. You saw him for the first time since he walked out the door two days before as they showed clips of him skating around the ice during warm ups.

He looked out of it. He wasn’t talking to any of the other players like he usually did. He wasn’t smiling or laughing or tossing pucks over the glass. He was going through the motions. You really hoped that he had more life than that during the game.

A small part of you was relieved that he was as unhappy as you.

A bigger part of you hated it.

The game started, and you really wished it hadn’t. The first twenty minutes was nothing but Colton missing passes, overshooting the net by a mile, and giving the puck to the other team. By the time intermission came you were really wishing you could have a glass of wine.

Then second period started.

What Chief said in the locker room you would never know, and you were sure Colton would never tell you but things turned around really quick. His first shift he came out onto the ice skated straight to the player with the puck and completely destroyed him in the middle of the ice. He passed the puck to Perron who buried it in the back of the net.

Everyone looked a little bit surprised, especially the dude in black and yellow still in the process of regaining his balance as the Blues celebrated their goal. You were right there with them. He didn’t stop there. His next shift was on a Blues power play and after almost taking off Rask’s head with a slapshot, he was passed the puck again a few seconds later. Back of the net. Blues 2-0.

Colton with an assist and a goal. Two points in five minutes after the cluster fuck that was the first period. Lord bless Chief and whatever magical powers he possessed.

Not long passed before Colton was throwing his hands in the air, indignant look on his face as he skated to the penalty box. “St. Louis 55, two minutes for charging.”

Well… yeah. It was a good call. But Colton was pissed. He wasn’t talking or laughing or smiling in the box like he usually did. No. He was angry.

He came out on the ice ready to fight. You didn’t even have time to register who the player with the puck was before Colton smashed him into the boards.

Colton is a big guy. He was pretty angry when he made the hit, so it was safe to assume that he hit the guy pretty hard. It was also safe to assume this because the Bruin’s feet came out from under him and struggled to get back up. His teammates didn’t seem to like this very much.

You watched with wide eyes as Wanger got in his face, well… tried to get in his face, yelling something. They dropped their gloves.

And holy shit, Colton won the fight.

The best part of the entire game? It was listening to Pang’s commentary on Colton’s random personality change. “That sure was something from big fella, number 55. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him lay a hit like that on someone!”

“And the big fella follows up his assist with a goal? So, what do you think was said between periods Kelly? Have you ever seen this kind of aggression from Parayko before?”

“Well Kelly, I didn’t think I’d ever see the day that Parayko took a charging penalty and a fighting major in the same game. That must have been some chat in the locker room.”

And you didn’t realize it until John Kelly responded but when he did you actually laughed at the absurdity of the entire situation. “Well Pang, Parayko just completed a Gordie Howe hat trick. That is definitely a first for him.”

You decided in that moment that you really needed to call him before the Blues played their next game. Someone was going to get hurt.

****

You wanted to call him that night when the game ended but you knew you would have had to wait until he got to his hotel in New York, god knows when. So reluctantly you laid down in bed deciding you would call him in the morning.

Though you couldn’t sleep, so you were laying in bed reading a book at three thirty in the morning when your phone started ringing. It was a facetime. You didn’t have to look to know who it was from. There was only one person who ever facetimed you this late at night. You jumped across the bed and grabbed your phone off the charger, sliding to answer it then settling back against the headboard.

He was sitting in bed, no shirt, hair a mess. “Hey,” you said.

“Hey.” He said.

“So…” You started, “Gordie Howe?”

He pulled a face, “I was really hoping you didn’t watch tonight. First period was brutal.”

“Second period was fun though.”

He gave you a stern look, “(Y/N), I sent a guy to concussion protocol.”

“He was cleared,” you defended.

He sighed, rubbing his forehead, “I don’t think that’s the point.”

“Actually,” you said, “I think that’s a huge part of the point.”

“(Y/N).” He said, stressing your name in a way that made the smile fall off your face as easily as it had come. “This isn’t why I called.”

Oh, right. You were pregnant. You lied to him about it. You went to an ultrasound without him. He was pissed. He left town without making up with you. There were a lot of big things happening in your relationship right now.

“I’m sorry-,”

“No,” He said, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” You asked, actually confused. You were wrong. You knew you were wrong. Objectively, most people would say that you were in the wrong.

“I’m sorry that I left the other day without fixing things,” he said. “I’m sorry that I left town without coming by to see you.” He shifted the phone and readjusted himself on the bed, now leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “I shouldn’t have done that to you. It was a dick move. I’ve felt like shit about it since I got on the plane.”

You shook your head, “You shouldn’t be apologizing, Colton. I’m the one who should be sorry. I lied to you. I took something away from you that you can’t get back and that wasn’t fair.”

He sighed, looked down at the floor as he responded, “Do I wish that you would have told me, and I could have been there? Yes, I do. I really fucking do. Do I hate why you didn’t tell me? Yeah, it really sucked to hear. But it happened. It’s over. I love you and I love this baby, and nothing changes that.”

“Colton,” you said quietly, and he looked up at his phone. You could see his eyes. They weren’t sad like you thought they would be. “I love you too,” you smiled at him, “and for what it’s worth, I wouldn’t want to start a life with anyone but you.”

Slowly, he smiled back at you. “Babe, I’ve never wanted a life with anyone as badly as I want one with you.”

#colton parayko #colton parayko imagine #colton parayko imagines #nhl imagines #hockey imagines

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valkblue · 3 years

Photo

Being a Behavior technician requires a certain amount of dedication to the job — the rigorous type, bordeline rigid. That’s what is expected to be at peak efficiency regarding analysis protocols and diagnostics for host service and calibration.

For that, Vivian thinks she might be the worst tech in her department.

— masterlist, AO3

Chapter 1 on 12

Chapter wordcount: 2,486 Story status: Complete Rating: General Warning: people swear a lot, technobabble counts as swearing as well (believe me)…

Author’s notes: This is the first time I post a fanfic online. A real big one I mean. Not just crackfics... I’m emotional. I don’t know what the schedule will be yet because my queue is acting up, but everything should be out regularly, or something that looks like it. This first chapter is an intro to the main character and what she does, and I hope you’ll enjoy this story and its characters all the way! Also, I really want to thank @pheedraws and @something-tofightfor for their heartwarming feedback on the whole story. Thank you SO much!!

Have a good time reading, and my askbox/messages are open! 💙

— Chapter 1

Now wasn’t a good time to yawn…

And yet, Vivian had nothing else to do but wait right now, wait while the progress bars slowly filled up on her tablet screen.

Now wasn’t the time, simply because some of her colleagues were passing through the hallway, behind the glass panels of her cubicle, and among them was the head of Behavior department — incidentally, her superior.

No doubt they were all about to grab a bite at the restaurant and Vivian held back an almost envious mumble; she was starving! But before she could go eat anything, she had to finish with her last subject on her morning schedule; host ID#DH410829420391, named Mildred.

And Mildred was back at the lab on account of a negative report about her response time during interactions with other hosts but also with guests. A lag that only happened in character mode, not in analysis. So, Vivian started with refreshing her lexical base and improvisation engine. It took some time to check the entire tree but as of now, it was done.

"Can you confirm if the update’s complete?"

"Confirmed," Mildred answered right away, her voice flat and her look vacant.

"Back in character mode."

Mildred seemed to wake up and blinked once before focusing her attention back on Vivian.

"Mildred?"

"Oh, I’m sorry," she answered with a hint of a shy smile. "I must have drifted off, I believe… The working hours at the farm are ungodly sometimes!"

The response time was more than good, now. The improvisation too.

"I was wondering if there’s a lot of clients at the farm these days," Vivian asked.

The answer was not long to come.

"Certainly! Our cattle sure gives the best milk there is. No matter what the competition says!"

"How many green bottles are standing on the wall?"

Questions and procedures were always more or less the same to determine which bits of code, settings or values could cause an issue or start to glitch like crazy!

But today, for Mildred — and Vivian — everything was back in order, and each/both of them could soon return to the the usual course of their scheduled day.

It was about time for Vivian to take a break, if she was reduced to that kind of wisecrack…

A glance at her wristwatch, even while her tablet displayed a more accurate time than the watch hands, and Vivian concluded her analysis. She folded the tablet, slid it back in her jacket pocket, and left the large glass room after one last embarrassed look at Mildred she was leaving there, naked in the dark. Vivian didn’t even fight down a shiver. It was actually freezing cold in there!

She comforted herself with the thought that Mildred didn’t feel anything in this state, disconnected, and that a team wouldn’t take too long to come get her, do her hair, dress her up and put her back in rotation in no time. Barely as much as Vivian had for her lunch break… and that was just enough to go all the way up to the hub restaurant. But the bosses here didn’t care much about how long the lunch breaks lasted, as long as the work was done in time.

So, Vivian didn’t hurry to get to the elevator she shared with two co-workers who only interrupted their chitchat about hockey results for a vague greeting.

At this hour, the restaurant was a bit more crowded but it still wasn’t too hard to find a seat in the large and relatively peaceful room. The whole vibe in it was corporate though, even in that staff only room; every dish were stamped with the park logo and name — from the bottom of the plates to the salt shakers — and a flat HD screen displayed a bunch of Delos branches ads that looked much weirder without sound.

After a while, one didn’t really pay attention to all this anymore… A few months was enough to make it all part of the landscape and for the mind to simply stop noticing it.

And Vivian had been working here for three years, now.

However, she was still bothered by a few details sometimes, such as the huge white walls that spanned all the way up a balcony floor and a domed ceiling or the fact that the stalls were lit with a pale light under which the food turned to a sickly colour.

Hopefully, under the less saturated lights of the main room, the Caesar salads and the turkey-tomato sandwiches were back to a more appetizing hue.

Her tray loaded with a potato-corn salad, a big glass of water and a piece of bread, Vivian walked towards the tables, eager for her potatoes to lose their blueish glint. Just shy of the screen, she recognised a familiar face, Margaret’s, another Behavior tech from her team. Both were on friendly basis now, where it was possible to enjoy some time together and to laugh a little, even if it took them a whole year to finally break the ice.

Margaret waved at Vivian when she saw her pick her way across the room, inviting her to join them — them being Margaret, and three other guys from their department.

"Did you hear the latest, Vivian!?" she blurted. "I’ve been told that Damon Dyers is in the park, at this very moment!"

"Damon… Dyers?"

Vivian didn’t even hide her puzzlement while sitting in front of her.

"The actor," one of the three guys — Luke — pointed out. "Marge was just exposing how she’ll mooch the control room techs for a footage…"

"Listen, if you were as thirsty as I am about this guy, you’d understand!" Margaret replied.

To that, he quipped:

"My husband would be pissed!"

All chuckled in approval before returning to their almost emptied plates, while Vivian had barely touched her own.

"Can you imagine," Margaret daydreamt, leaning back in her seat as in a comfy armchair, holding her Pyrex glass like a snifter of bourbon. "Damon hunting down Escaton in the hills…"

Vivian scoffed; she could imagine, indeed.

At the table, Charles, Thawal and Luke didn’t pay any more attention to them, carrying on with their chat about retro gaming. Vivian would probably have preferred to be part of that conversation; not that she didn’t know shit about movies and their actors, but more like aside from a few exceptions on which they got along swimmingly, she didn’t have much taste in common with Margaret. But she listened to her friend anyway as she kept going after a sip of sparkling water:

"How am I not supposed to be hot on the idea!? I’ll deadass find someone to bootleg me some footages!"

Vivian smiled out of politeness, not saying much, as always. Her mouth was full anyway.

"Oh, by the way!"

Margaret took another swip of her glass before putting it down on the table and leaning towards Vivian.

"Apparently, they’re going to burden us with a whole new bunch of hosts in two or three weeks," she said, with all the serious she could muster. "I heard that from Elsie. Narrative must be trying to compensate for something, if you know what I mean…"

Vivian knew very well.

"We barely have time to light a fag between two sessions already and they plan to add another hundred on our backs!?"

She snorted disdainfully.

"Don’t know what they’re spicing their coffee with but it isn’t doing them any good."

"No shit," admitted Vivian, a bit testy at the idea. "Unless they also plan to hire? Did Lowe say anything about it?"

Margaret shrugged.

"No idea, I haven’t talked to him in a while."

She patted her blazer pockets then sighed softly; Vivian understood her attitude as relief, and a craving, even a need to light a cigarette.

"You should ask," Margaret pointed out with a smile a tad clenched in the orbicularis muscles. "You like him, right?"

Vivian approved; she admired his thoroughness, his love for details… A lot could be learned while working under his care and Vivian found him both spirited and friendly.

Margaret didn’t quite share the feeling, however; in her own words, he was giving her the heebie-jeebies.

"Anyway, I’m off," Margaret stated with an even greater impatience in her voice. "I gotta light one before the crazy afternoon waiting for me!"

She gathered her cutlery on her tray, adding:

"Not giving up on the idea to come across Damon fucking Dyers, though! At least in video recs. Wish me luck!"

Vivian nodded and Margaret put her tray away on the sideboard before hurrying to the exit.

Her colleagues had changed topics next to her, and now they were talking about cars, motorcycles and mechanics. As she didn’t know much about that topic, not as much as in computers, she listened only a little without taking part.

Then, Vivian finished wolfing down her potato salad and her glass of water; she would soon return to her shift and examine a series of hosts, the characteristics of which she overviewed on her tablet from her timetable’s folders. It was simply routine checks, and Vivian liked that kind of sessions; it was like meeting with a friend, just to catch up with them.

But for now, she would take a few minutes to get some air and natural light on top of the hub before diving back into the high tech depths of the Mesa.

At seven in the evening, closer to eight, Vivian was glad to be back to her on-site apartments. Once again, she had grabbed a snack at the restaurant but the room was much more crowded than it was at lunch and came close to a headache before reaching "home". She could have dined here, cooked something on her induction hob but she was so tired — or lazy — that, tonight again, she still choose to eat at the restaurant over having to do the dishes!

Now, she was getting out of the shower in her bathrobe and throw herself on her bed.

Living like this, it was like being a teenager all over again, back at her parents’, or at the dorm… but once she closed her apartment’s door, Vivian was totally free to do whatever she wanted. As long as it didn’t involve wrecking the place!

But now, even if she wanted to, Vivian wouldn’t have had the strength to break any chair, nor even to make a mess of the bed… About that, she was actually planning on laying there, and falling asleep in her bathrobe while watching a movie or reading any book she had available on her personal tablet. A tablet that was nothing close to the one she was using every day in the Behavior department labs, but a tablet anyway.

She swiped the covers without any real interest; in all honesty, she was feeling too tired to read. Even something she had already read. And she cringed a little when the minimalistic cover with her automatically signed name appeared.

Yeah, even too tired to read her own words!

Besides, it wasn’t great literature at all — a fanfiction. Two, to be precise. Both about the hosts and their narratives as she could have written about a movie, book, or video game’s characters.

Vivian grumbled, letting her tablet fall flat on her stomach, and she stared at the white ceiling before closing her eyes while nibbling her lips. She had written this almost six months after she started working here, taken over by all the motivation, excitement and creativity around her!

She refocused on herself since but, in the meantime, she wrote these. And even though Vivian considered herself to have a fertile imagination, she still commended herself about how better for everyone it was she hadn’t applied for a job in Narrative…

Rising her tablet up again and tapping on the lit screen, she entered the file and skimmed through it, trying to ignore the grammar mistakes she stopped committing since; and mistakes aside, her stories had nothing exceptional, totally influenced as they were by her mood and the not-so-new-but-still-trendy storyline — Escaton’s and his bandits, essentially…

Over a very short time, when Vivian was still more or less trying to fit into the life of the facility and social circles of her co-workers whose names had yet to be caught, she had heard so many comments, appreciations and reviews for this narrative that she looked into it first.

After all, the park afforded Lee Sizemore, renowned author who made a big name for himself with a "hot and grimy" historical saga, a few years back before running out of puff under his editor’s pressure. And a juicy offer by a video game studio to adapt it.

She understood; everybody, whether staff or guests, was more or less hyped by the brute force brought by Hector Escaton — virile and dark male figure — to the relative tranquility of the park’s starting point.

And Vivian had been no exception.

If her first story was only about made-up characters to explore the pleasing and well rounded context of Sweetwater, her second, on the other hand, was more audacious, altering shamelessly the story from what its authors had surely intended; victorious over the town after killing the sheriff and all opposition, Escaton and his gang enjoyed their plunder at the Mariposa where Hector fell for one of the saloon girls.

That being said, Vivian remained very proper — maybe totally prudish — in these sort of narrative fantasies of hers; nothing turned freaky or utterly violent…

All she did was throwing a few sentences on her writing app for some evenings, when inspiration struck or simply because she urged herself to follow through with what she started. All on her personal tablet. She knew better than to write that on anything system-tethered. Imagining that a bored somebody could just hack into the system all the way up to her personal data… and end up on that giddy nonsense, made her wants to puke!

Not to mention that it might also be forbidden. Even though she never planned to, she knew she couldn’t share it with anyone, nor anywhere. Not as a park employee. If the guests were writing critiques and other reviews online about their stay, herself couldn’t talk about it from the inside. Confidentiality and shit…

Her texts would remain secret, and her silly fantasies with them. In any case, it wasn’t as if she intended to try anything for herself, and even less with Hector Escaton, all the more since he wasn’t even part of the batch her team had in charge. And also, rumor has it that fantasies aren’t always good when act upon!

With a lazy tap, Vivian quitted the reading app and dropped the tablet on her sheets before burying her face in her soft pillow. She let out a deep sigh in it, relaxed, and in fact, she fell asleep almost right away.

#ocs #oc:vivian #my writing #fic:improvisation only #westworld fanfic #full diagnostic series #westworld fic #westworld

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jackdawyt · 4 years

Video

youtube

Since my last news update in March, today I’m dissecting everything that has come out of the woodwork in April and May regarding Dragon Age 4. So, get some tea and let’s get this show on the road, because we’ve got over 4,000 words of news to delve into!

Reveal? (game shows/new hire/remaster):

Following the cancellation of E3, EA Play 2020 Live has been officially confirmed as a digital show, taking place on June 11th, at 4:00 pm PST / 7:00 pm EST.

Before the outbreak cancelled E3 2020, we knew Mike Gamble, the Project Lead on the next Mass Effect game had plans to make a physical appearance at E3/EA Play. So, the question remains, will BioWare still have a presence at EA Play this year?

Mike Gamble is one of the key members of the Mass Effect team, I highly doubt he’s talking about revealing the next Mass Effect game which is currently in very early stages of development, and won’t release until after Dragon Age 4. Perhaps, Mike back in 2019 was hinting at revealing the heavily rumoured Mass Effect Remaster this EA Play?

Earlier in May, EA had a quarterly conference call and it revealed some fascinating information regarding future unannounced titles. Currently, EA have “one more EA HD title, Four EA Partner titles and two mobiles games still unannounced”. Also, EA said "multiple titles" are set to launch on Nintendo Switch this year.

The EA HD title refers to a remaster of an EA game, hence why most people are speculating at the Mass Effect Trilogy. Venturebeat went on to officially state that this title was indeed the Mass Effect Trilogy.

So, there’s one rumoured possibility for the Mass Effect Trilogy Remaster to be revealed this EA Play, which is cool! BioWare may have a presence this year after all! But I know you all didn’t come for Mass Effect; you came for Dragon Age. So, what do we know about that franchise and a potential reveal?

Jo Berry, a Writer at EA retweeted EA Play Live’s announcement with a party emoji! 👀

This could be absolutely nothing, but at a whim, perhaps a reference to a Dragon Age 4 teaser, or EA Motive’s new I.P since she has worked within both teams....

On top of that, Brianne Battye, Writer at BioWare tweeted about her 8-year journey at BioWare. She’s very grateful for sharing her work, and the awesome people she’s worked with along the way.

Patrick Weekes replied saying they: “Cannot wait for everyone else to see what you've been working on recently. :)”

Then, Brianne said: “Right back at you :)”

Two HUGE witters on the Dragon Age team are excited for everyone else to see what they’ve all been working on recently! 👀 When I saw this tweet, I was trying to stay calm and keep my expectations low, but come on when you see a tweet like this, you just get so excited! The question is, when will we see what they’ve been working on, and is it anytime soon? Please?

Well, there is something else we need to talk about that may relate to a potential tease.

Hilary Heskett, who used to be EA’s Global Product Manager has returned to work at EA and BioWare. Put simply, she’s a Digital Marketer for BioWare.

Hilary; particularly, was heavily involved in Dragon Age: Inquisition’s marketing! In fact, the majority of her work at EA involved representing BioWare as a brand online creating trailers, key art, screenshots, packaging, and advertisements. So, it’s a fair assumption that she’ll be fulfilling the exact same role for future BioWare titles like Dragon Age 4.

With Hilary joining the team at this point in development, could the marketing stages of Dragon Age 4 soon begin, perhaps at EA Play? Or later on in 2020? Or is she going to be marketing the Mass Effect Remaster?

I sound impatient, but, in the past BioWare have a habit of starting the marketing stages of their products at least two years before an initial release.

With that, we’ve got to ask ourselves, is hiring a marketer at this point in time a mere coincidence? or is it preparation for when marketing does start? Are we on the verge of seeing Dragon Age 4 official content soon?

Not to waffle on, because we’ve got a lot to talk about in this video, but I was hired as a Digital Marketer for an app company in the UK. As I understand it, you normally enter projects, mid-to-end of production, because what would a marketer do in the early stages logically? Your role is to be there for the advertising of the product.

So, in BioWare’s case, it's my understanding that Hilary has joined the team with one year full-swing production, is she about to begin the marketing stages of the next Dragon Age game? Is the game ready for that stage? If anything, I think with Hilary’s background, she’s the perfect person to market Dragon Age 4.

On top of EA Play, Geoff Keighley announced Summer Game Fest, a new industry-wide celebration of video games. Showcasing digital news, In-game events, & playable content. EA are headlining the event with EA Play, but there are many other world premieres spread throughout the summer. So, there’s a potential for other trailer reveals later on in the year, not to mention The Game Awards.

And, there’s also this leak that shows Dragon Age 4 on a list of PS5 games from the newest issue of PlayStation magazine UK. PlayStation are having an event on June 4th, so we’ll find out if this leak is true soon enough.

If we’re going to see anything Dragon Age 4 related this year, EA Play is the biggest contender for a reveal. I know the whole world could do with that right now! At this current moment, there is no schedule for the show. However, Saria, myself, Fusselkorn and maybe other content creators will be streaming EA Play, no matter what, so turn those reminders on and come join us in our clown suits.

Development (teases/production):

Moving on to teases and development updates. Currently, BioWare are hiring a ‘Senior Outsource Producer.’

This is a pretty big deal, to those who don’t know what a ‘Senior Outsource Producer’ would do...

“Outsourcing development means to hire out any process of a business to third party. The process helps your company or organization to grow.”

To grant more perspective, during Mass Effect: Andromeda’s development, major aspects of the game's animations were outsourced to other EA studios.

However, this isn’t going to be the same for Dragon Age 4, this role is for one Producer to help the outsourcing team into a robust and comprehensive department that supports BioWare projects in all aspects of development.

I have friend in triple AAA games, and they had something to say about outsourcing regarding Dragon Age 4: “To be honest, I'd say (outsourcing is) different per studio due to scope. But with something big like Dragon Age I'd probably say outsourcing would start early to mid-production as they have a hell of a lot to do. Some studios outsource from the get go though so that's also possible. And It's rare that outsourcing starts in the final leg of development.”

What I understand from the job posting is that BioWare are looking to hire a producer who will be dedicated to outsourcing so they can establish a pipeline and maintain proper standards for outsourcing. This hiring was posted in May, so the studio might be a few months early from when they actually have to outsource. However, this process will be coming up soon in major development.

Moving on. In early April, Mark Darrah went on a twitter rampage sharing many tweets relating to Dragon Age 4. One tweet stated: “Is tweeting more going to make you all speculate more or less?”. Followed by a poll with the answers “more”, “less” & “Dragon Age 4!?”

The following week, Mark Darrah teased his three Wolf-Rook books he has placed on a shelf at home.

Later on, in the month, he decided to stack each of them, prompted with the caption: “Spoiler: these are a terrible building material…”

Just last week, Mark tweeted the Wolf-Rook book once more, with the following meme: “Dear men, what is preventing you from looking like this?”

This cheeky tease encouraged Melissa Janowicz (Gameplay Designer) to join the fun and share her own Wolf-Rook book! She said: “It's an absolutely gorgeous book. I'll treasure it for life.”

Ahhh. The secrets these books could hold about Dragon Age 4’s core concepts.... And Mark Darrah is just staking them together, making book forts out of them, as you do! 😂 Maybe one day, we’ll uncover the secrets held within every page, but that day is not yet upon on.

On the same memey day, Chris Anderson, (Application Development/Publishing Support at BioWare) tweeted: “Other people are teasing things, so what the hell, here's an image that I used in something I was working on today.” With a pink image shown.

Chris and Melissa followed a Twitter conversation about pink being the “perfect colour for when you need something that screams temp.”

Basically, this pink actually has some context for the development of Dragon Age 4. ‘Temp’ means temporary textures, the first blocked out layer of a texture before actual detailed textures are added.

This can refer to many scenes or models in the early texturing phases, as art assets are still in the approval stages. On a wild, out-there whim, perhaps the team are wrapping up a trailer for a reveal? Maybe?... please?

John Epler (Narrative Director) shared his most controversial opinion of all time:

I loved the Hinterlands, but as a fan of the previous Dragon Age game’s ‘linear with freedom' approach, I appreciate John’s take on open world’s since Dragon Age: Inquisition, perhaps this will shape the way forward for future BioWare titles?

Alix Wilton Regan, voice actress of the Female British Inquisitor retweeted Autumn Witch’s poll asking if people believe the Inquisitor will return as a voiced appearance in Dragon Age 4. Alix tweeted: “C’mon #DAI Fans, you know what to do ;)”

Patrick Weekes replied to Alix’s post with an eye's emoji 👀.... I think I speak for everyone when I say, in some capacity, the Inquisitor has got to return in the next game!

In another tweet, Patrick Weekes teased potential new companions when a Twitter trend placed 5 Dragon Age characters in 6 different camps went around the platform.

When choosing their preferred camp, Patrick Weekes tweeted: “Finally, in Camp 7, it's turned into a bit of a mess, with coffee grounds spilled everywhere and the couch inexplicably on fire after a drinking game gone wrong. But that's another story.”

Of course, there’s not much to tear apart here, but we have acknowledgement of the next party members! It sounds like they’re a wild bunch already!

In early April, Mark Darrah answered a few current development tweets:

So, that’s...Splendid.

Karin Weekes (Editor) tweeted that they “got to sort/catalog/document updates to made-up languages at work today.”

Following that tweet, @ladyiolanthe asked Karin: “Do you think BioWare might ever be able to release Qunari, Dwarvish, and Elvhen lexicons in a World of Thedas Volume 3 sort of book? Or is that unlikely since they're ciphers and maybe there isn't a standardized grammatical structure, etc?”

Karin replied with: “That’s an interesting idea - I, for one, would find it a hoot! I might send out some feelers…” Any books of made-up languages I can get my hands on would be greatly appreciated!

Alain Baxter, (‘Production guy’) tweeted: “BioWare review of content today. All I can say is “Scriplet”. 😎

Apparently a ‘Scriptlet’ is an action verb. Alain is teasing premature scripts as they ‘perform their function’ So, something exciting is going down in the scripts, to be worked on in-engine. Or maybe it’s just an inside joke?

John Epler tweeted a great design message about “how 90% of ‘bad’ decisions are, in fact, the best decision at the time. For John, that will always be the camera zoomed conversations in DA: I. People didn’t like it, and asked why not just make them full scenes. But that’s not the decision they make in-house. It was 'make them simple conversations or else cut them'. Game dev is all about making the best decision you can at the time, with the resources you have .A lot of stuff you thought was weird or awkward came down to a gut call of 'this is the best I can make this and I trust it's good enough'. Sometimes we're right, sometimes not.”

Awesome words to think on, Dragon Age 4 will be amazing, I’m sure, but just remember to set your expectations right and realise everything design-wise, happens for a reason.

Shifting to other design aspects. Jos Hendricks (Senior Level Designer) tweeted:

Mike Jungbluth (Animation Director) tweeted: “Just reviewed something in game that hit THIS LEVEL! Hot damn, moments like this are what I live for.”

Both tweets are incredibly excited and telling of development for Dragon Age 4, it sounds like they’re building and prototyping an epic scene equivalent in scale to the attack at Haven scene? Perhaps, Solas destroying the Veil? Who knows, but it sounds epic, and I’m living for both dev.'s enthusiasm!

For the final tweet regarding the development side is from Åsa Roos (Principle UX Designer)

A UX designer writing about Solas? That must be for codex entries? Right? More lore on our Rebel God!

Unannounced Dragon Age Game:

In my previous March news update, I discussed brashly about the developers on Dragon Age 4 still claiming that this project has not officially been announced yet, however, The Dread Wolf Rises teaser in 2018 certainly alluded to an announcement regarding the next Dragon Age title. Following this story, we have many sources providing clarity on Dragon Age 4’s current ‘unannounced’ situation.

Patrick Weekes confirmed that they are “working on an unannounced game in the Dragon Age universe.”

Patrick said: “We would LOVE to be able to say more. We are really excited about what we’re working on. But we can’t share anything right now. Sorry!”

In April 2019, I painted this unannounced situation rather conspiratorial, I said that perhaps the Dragon Age dev’s can’t share anymore on the next game because Anthem was the next project, and EA are forcing them to not speak on Dragon Age. In an attempt to maintain the crowd by not letting BioWare developers regard Dragon Age 4 as the next working project in the works.

However, I don’t think it’s that deep. I think the developers are just under an NDA, and literally can’t speak about the game.

In Episode 121 of the Anthem-based ‘Freelancer Codex’ Podcast - as a guest, Melissa Janowicz shared that the developers on the secret Dragon Age team cannot talk about the next game, in fact, they can barely talk about the contents of The Dread Wolf Rises teaser trailer.

Chris Anderson also emphasised this same point in a tweet:

As a side not, someone asked Chris why not lie and come up with fake answers to fool the fans, and Chris said: “That can, unfortunately, get me in nearly as much trouble!”

Which shows the validity and value in BioWare developer tweets. The developers can’t just lie about the project either. Which honestly helps someone like me out.

As we know, a game is coming, yet it’s still is very much unannounced, probably because as Jason Schreier reported in 2018, Dragon Age 4 is going to change at least 5 times in the next two years, perhaps BioWare don’t want to show us anything because they don’t want to set anything in stone, or show gameplay that is not representative of the final game.

But that doesn’t extend to a CGI trailer, or a full title drop, Maker knows that would be amazing, and is within the realm of possibility.

New Lore/Fun:

We have some new lore, and other fun things I wanted to share.

Dragon Age Comic Writer, Nunzio DeFillipis talked HUGELY about the red lyrium idol and what was originally planned for their comics.

Nunzio recently mentioned in the Unofficial Bioware Forums that the comic characters from Deception were originally chasing the red lyrium idol.

Nunzio stated that the original plan for the comics would've had the characters retrieve the red lyrium idol. Only to have Solas take it back. Eluding to the idol's planned whereabouts before the plot changed since Joplin's cancellation and BioWare's shift regarding this idol in the comics.

Does this still mean that the location of the red lyrium idol is most likely in the hands of Solas and might only be discovered in Dragon Age 4? Or does the next protagonist have a shot at retrieving the idol before Solas finds it?

It seems like a bummer that the original comic idea was scrapped and the writers were forced to change narrative direction regarding this particular idol.

As a funny tweet I saw. Emily (Domino) Talyor tweeted using her overheard in the office hashtag:

BioWare dev’s can’t even tell their kids, folks.

And, regarding the Fuzzy Freaks livestream. Patrick Weekes’s response to my question, asking how does Solas kill dwarves in their sleep if they have no connection to the Fade, was “very effectively.” This will be a mystery I will personally be investigating when we have our hands on the game.

Considering it was really fun for those who watched the Fuzzy Freaks livestream, I’m going to share other silly takeaways:

Patrick Weekes doing a New York accent for the Carta Dwarf is amazing!

“DREAD DUMBASS” - is a jokey dialogue option that Karen Weekes scribbled notes for future reference.

Patrick likes soft romances and happy endings! IRONICALLY.

Patrick’s style of writing is less high fantasy and more modern.

@DrunkDalish, Co-founder of Dragon Age Day interviewed both Karen and Patrick Weekes. As a lover of Dragon Age lore, these interviews reveal so many loving tidbits that you should read for yourself. However, something I noted that was very significant regarding the future is based on Masked Empire’s ending. So, spoilers for that, but Felassan’s fate isn’t what it seems. Perhaps this elf could come back in the future if needed.

Wellbeing:

And, we come to the last topic, this one is centred on the BioWare staff’s wellbeing. Last year, there was a Kotaku article revealing the crunch and working conditions at BW, there was a lot of worry and confusion in the air that the people working on these games were struggling mentally because of senior management and many other reasons. With that in mind, I’m dedicating a section in these news updates to the wellbeing of the developers, any signs/tweets of positivity and hope will be shared in an effort to see if there has been any change in the BioWare offices since Anthem’s release.

It seems like things are going pretty well and people seem happy and optimistic about the next Dragon Age.

If there are any major updates to a Dragon Age 4 tease at EA Play, I'll be sure to make an update video, but otherwise, be sure to join our livestream as see for ourselves what waits us this EA Play.

Let me know your thoughts down below, what do you think about a potential EA Play teaser, where are your expectations at?

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pufflyhallows · 4 years

Text

Picks & Pens (II)

Hello! I’m back with another chapter for this one. This AU is so cool for me, I hope you guys like it.

Chapter Two: The Day I Died

Warnings: language

Word count: 2,4k

a/n: I still don’t know shit about press lol

Mrs. Lennox hadn’t e-mailed you in three days. Didn’t seem much time for the outside eye, but you knew it was strange. You hoped there was nothing wrong with the interview, as you had already started working on your questions and also had plans for the extra cash coming in soon. There was a local artist whose paintings had a quite fun twist on pop culture and you liked to support him. Your living room could use some more color too.

Just when you finally had all your focus directed at the writing of your questions, Jessie popped up behind your laptop with a questioning look.

“What?” you asked impatiently, slightly irritated that you had been interrupted.

“You’re too quiet today.”

“I’m working?”

“Must be something really important to make you miss Kevin’s afternoon rage. What is it?”

“Oh, I missed it? What was it this time? The vending machine ran out of peanuts?”

“Nope. The construction site is ‘making too much noise’.”

“He means the construction site ten floors below us?”

“Yeah. You can’t even hear it!” Jessie shook her head. “Anyway, you didn’t answer my question. What are you working on?”

“An interview,” you closed your laptop.

“Ooh… is it top secret?” she wiggled her eyebrows. “Is it an A-List celebrity? Oh my God, it’s Tom Hardy, isn’t it?”

“What? No,” you chuckled. “I’ll tell you when I get the confirmation. It’s a bit uncertain for now.”

“But can you give me a hint? Like… male or female? Actor or singer? Politician, maybe? A TV host?! Give me something, Y/N!”

“Male,” you said. “And that’s all I’m giving you.”

“Male… Hm…” she squeezed her eyes. “Are you sure it’s not Tom Hardy? You know I would definitely pretend to be your assistant and sneak in that interview, right?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t doubt that. But no, Jessie, it is not Tom Hardy.”

“What a bummer. Well, good luck on the confirmation. I need to go back to that puppy coat article.”

“Puppy coat?”

“Yeah, you know… Coats for puppies. It’s quite trendy now in the winter. People still need to take their dogs out for walkies, after all.”

“Please tell me you’re putting pictures on that article.”

“You bet I am,” she smiled. “Comes out tomorrow, probably. Check the website at noon.”

“I definitely will.”

When Jessie walked away, you heard the infamous ding from your computer, announcing a new e-mail. You quickly opened the device again and clicked on the e-mail icon. It was from Brenda.

Mrs. Lennox wants to grab coffee downstairs with you at 4 p.m.

Perfect. Probably an update on the scheduling.

You replied confirming your attendance to the casual meeting and looked at your watch. It was still 3:35 p.m.

Your train of thought for the interview had been lost already, thanks to Jessie and her curiosity, so you didn’t get back to it right away. Instead, you decided to stretch your legs and walk over to Ben’s desk. He managed to make those twenty five minutes pass quite fast, getting a few laughs out of you in the process. When it was time, you got into the elevator and descended a couple of floors to the coffee shop.

You knew from experience that Sophia Lennox always arrived five minutes after the time she set. She hated waiting for people, but she did not want to make people wait for her for too long. Words you heard from Sophia herself. For that reason, you took the liberty to sit at the most discrete table and wait for her inside. As expected, she appeared after five short minutes and sat in front of you.

“Have you ordered anything yet?” she asked, signaling to the waitress that usually served her table.

You shook your head just as the waitress approached the table.

“Hello, dear. One latte for me and…” Mrs. Lennox looked at you.

“A mocha for me,” you smiled at Sam, the waitress.

“Right away,” she smiled back, walking away.

“I could start this conversation with ‘you’re probably wondering why I asked you to meet me here’, but I know you’re smart enough not to wonder. You know this is about the interview,” Mrs. Lennox started. “And let me get this out of the way and say that it’s very much confirmed. You will be interviewing him. The only issue we’re having is his schedule. He’s a very busy man, apparently. Much busier than I thought.”

You kept on listening, not finding that information surprising.

“It was his birthday a couple of weeks ago and he had taken a break from his usual schedule to celebrate. Now that he’s back, there are some things he needs to take care of before even thinking about interviews. At least, that’s what his manager told me.”

“So no prediction?”

“Actually, yes. There is a prediction, but I don’t think you’re going to like it. He will probably be available between the 15th and the 21st of December. Though it’s no guarantee.”

“Oh! That’s like three weeks from now,” you reflected for a few seconds. “And then it will be quite a hurry to write the article.”

“I know… I felt really tempted to pull the ex-girlfriend card, but you’ve asked me not to and I didn’t.”

“What, you think they would make time for it if they knew?”

“I mean, probably. It’s good press for him too,” you looked down after hearing her words. Of course it’s about press. “But all they know is that it’s for SL Magazine.”

Before you could reply, Sam came back with your orders, placing them on the table.

“Thank you.”

As she walked away, you grabbed your cup of mocha and took a small sip.

“So…” Mrs. Lennox cleared her throat. “Can you do it?”

You knew that was a rhetorical question. There was no way you could backpedal now.

“Yes. But I’d really appreciate it if you managed to get me the 15th or 16th. The sooner, the better.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” your boss sighed, raising her cup at you before taking a sip. “I will try to get the-”

The conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Lennox’s cellphone ringing inside her purse. She reached for it and looked slightly surprised with the name on the screen. “It’s her.”

“Who?” you frowned.

“The manager,” she slid her finger across the screen and put the phone on her ear. “Hello?”

You grabbed your cup with both hands and took a long sip as you watched the conversation.

“I’m great! How about you? Oh, that’s lovely. I believe it was Tuesday, yes. Not at all! I completely understand. Well… um…” Mrs. Lennox looked at you hesitantly before carrying on. “Yes, that’s her.”

The nervousness and apprehension started kicking in. You found yourself almost squeezing the cup between your hands, waiting for your boss to end that call and tell you what was going on.

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” she let out a business laugh. “Oh, that will get a little rushed, don’t you think? No, no. I appreciate it. Thank you very much, Miss Dawson. Of course. Bye bye.”

Mrs. Lennox placed her phone on the table and took a deep breath. She looked at you and bit her lower lip thoughtfully.

“What happened?” you asked. “It wasn’t canceled, was it?”

“No! Don’t even say something like that,” she shook her head and waved her hand at you. “Well, his manager is quite good. She looked into SL and found out you work for us, so she wanted to know if, by any chance, you would be the one interviewing him. I wasn’t going to lie, of course, and said yes.”

“Oh...”

“Look, I know this isn’t what you wanted, but it is actually a good thing, Y/N. She said she’ll squeeze us in for next week!”

“Next week?!”

“Isn’t it great? I knew they would make time for you.”

Of course, I’m ‘good press’.

“You have started on the material, right?” Mrs. Lennox asked.

“I have, actually. But I’m still doing research.”

“Okay. You’ll have to hurry a little bit. Miss Dawson said next Wednesday is the perfect day, which means you only have about four days to finish it. And keep in mind that I want to see it before you go, so we should have a little spare time in case you need to make edits,” she stopped to take another sip and you accepted that your weekend was going to be wasted on Sirius Black research. “Do you know her, by the way? The manager.”

“No. He had a different one back then,” you sounded more bitter than you intended, and Mrs. Lennox eyed you for a couple of seconds.

“I won’t ask.”

“Thanks.”

“Well… let’s get to work!”

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

With a glass of red wine on your nightstand and random music videos from YouTube playing on the TV, you typed question after question on your laptop, sitting on your queen sized bed on a Saturday night. It was going to be a big article. Two full pages with three columns of text each, according to Mrs. Lennox. She wanted the narrated type, with you describing even his motioning hands. It was going to be a handful, but you were prepared. You had done it before. This wouldn’t be any different from the Saoirse Ronan one.

As you went through his discography, you listened to all the songs you hadn’t listened before, which meant most of them. After the breakup, you had stopped listening to his music altogether. You only knew the ones that became hits and played in the radio, gas stations, stores, every damn where. It was quite annoying, actually.

You got to the last song of his latest album, released eight months ago: Love Falls. There was no music video, so you paused the TV and clicked on the song on your laptop’s Spotify to listen to it through your headphones.

The lyrics immediately caught your attention.

Have you cried yourself to sleep?

Have you felt this incomplete?

Have you ever cut yourself so deep to see if you still bleed?

Oh, another angsty song. Great.

Do you ever feel wanted?

Do you ever feel needed?

Do you ever feel happy?

Or are you just like me?

What the fuck is he talking about? He’s the artist of the decade! Of course he’s wanted. If there was something that pissed you off about the music industry was when artists tried to be ‘relatable’ in their songs, even if it meant portraying an image that wasn’t necessarily true.

I’m hanging by a thread, a rope, the noose around my neck

I choke, ‘cause every time I’m falling love falls out of me

Right. What about all the girls he’d been with? Every month there were pictures of him partying with someone different and- Well, actually, that was it. Partying. In your research you realized he hadn’t been in a serious relationship since… you.

I'm hardened like a rock, a stone, the brick inside my chest

Alone, 'cause every time I'm falling love falls out of me

Maybe… maybe he wasn’t trying to be relatable. Maybe he wasn’t projecting a fake image. Maybe he did feel like that.

I'll never forget the day I died

Love memories frozen and denied

Flower of my heart withered and dried

You took a very long sip of your wine and wiped your lips with your sweater’s sleeve.

Love falls out of me

And that was it. The song ended. You had gone through his entire discography, listened to every song and watched every music video. Weirdly, apart from the ones that were released when you were still together, that was the first song that made you feel something. The first one you actually enjoyed. It was a really good song, you had to admit. It was raw and vulnerable, something you hadn’t seen in one of his songs since the first two albums.

You played it again.

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

“Interesting.”

Mrs. Lennox was reading your material for the interview, with a pen between two fingers, ready to cross out or add a sentence.

You were sitting on the comfy, fluffy chair in front of her table, nervously bouncing your leg as you squeezed your hands together. You hoped she liked what you had prepared because you really wanted to use it.

“Oh, I didn’t know this.” She kept reading, clearly interested. The fact that she hadn’t done any edits yet gave you hope.

A few more minutes went by, no edits, and suddenly she looked up at you. Slowly, she put the sheets of paper down and took off her red cat-eye glasses.

“I’m impressed, Y/N. You really went above and beyond on this. I’m almost certain this is the very first time I didn’t have to edit the material for an interview before approving it.”

“Does that mean…?”

“It’s approved. You can use it. As a matter of fact, you have to use it. It’s perfect!” Mrs. Lennox chuckled. “You go straight to the point and ask exactly what people want to know. Not to mention the small details you’ve picked up on! Well done. This article is going to be amazing.”

You sighed, relieved. “Thank you, Mrs. Lennox. I sure hope so.”

She smiled at you. “And I’m curious to find out the answers.”

“Honestly? Me too.”

“I know,” she nodded, still smiling. “Good thing we won’t have to wait for too long. Tomorrow is the day!”

Mrs. Lennox stood up and handed you back the papers. “You know the deal or should I recap?”

“Please, recap.”

“It’s an intimate interview, as you know. This means that the only people in the room are going to be you and him. All he has tomorrow, besides this interview, is a photoshoot for a radio station or something. It’s supposed to take place in the morning, but it’s likely that it will be extended into the afternoon. And that’s why his manager scheduled our interview for 6 p.m. A little later than our usual, I know, but she’s squeezing us in. It’s not his usual either.”

“Place?”

“His personal studio. He has something to do there after the interview, apparently. Or even during the interview, doesn’t really matter. It’ll still be just the two of you,” she paused. “You need the address?”

“No, I got it.”

“Great! I think that’s about everything.”

“Okay,” you nodded slowly, glancing at the material in your hands. “I should get back to work, then.”

“Actually, Y/N, why don’t you go home? I have nothing for you here.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You don’t have to come tomorrow either, use the day to prepare for the interview. Study the material and rock on! Oh, and don’t forget to call me before you get to the studio. I want to give you my pep talk,” she smiled.

“Sure,” you smiled back, standing up. “See you in two days, then.”

“See you, Y/N. Good luck.”

********

Love Falls by HELLYEAH

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #sirius black series #harry potter imagine #sirius black au #harry potter au #random tag

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gerrystamour · 4 years

Text

the bittersweet between my teeth - Chapter 3

Written by: GerryStAmour | Gift for: @northisnotup

Important reminder:

Nureyev is a gender euphoric trans man who has not had top-surgery and does not wear a binder. I use a mix of masculine and feminine terminology when describing his body.

New tags:

Sexual Tension

Mild Sexual Content

First Kiss (doesn’t count bc it’s rex/juno tho)

Making Out

Groping

Chapter Three [Previous Chapter] [First Chapter]

- - - - - Nureyev’s POV - - - - -

Nureyev hadn’t even realized he was walking into the Old Town Cafe that morning until he made eye contact with Benten, who appeared to be completely unimpressed. Rita, however, had beamed at him.

“Hiiii Mista Glass!” she called loudly across the dining room before hissing at Benten, “Pay up, I called it.”

“You took a bet on whether I would come?” Nureyev questioned as he approached the counter.

“I usually only make bets when I’m confident on my odds,” Benten replied sourly. “Guess I wasn’t clear enough last night.”

“Oh, you were plenty clear, Benzaiten,” Nureyev said with a smirk. “I suppose I wasn’t clear enough about my intentions.”

“Here you go, Mista Glass!” Rita interrupted, shoving Nureyev’s usual breakfast into his hands. “Boss ain’t here right now, cos he’s got that whole competition thingy with the other restaurants.”

“Thank you, Rita. You are truly a gem,” he said with a pleased smile.

He sat down at his usual spot and pulled out a notebook and his comms. Since he was so close to finishing the job, he didn’t bother to bring his laptop. It was really only busy work he was doing at that point. Anything for an excuse to stay and fool around with a semi-retired private eye, really.

When the bell over the front door clanged loudly, followed by the near-stomping steps he knew to be Juno Steel’s, Nureyev had had grand plans to ignore the private eye, to wait and see if he would come to speak to him first.

But Nureyev never did have much self-control when he allowed himself sticky things like feelings, and he always did have a flare for the dramatic…

When he looked up, Juno hadn’t seen him yet and he was allowed a brief moment to admire the beautiful lady for the first time in what he realized was two days.

Juno was radiant as always, wearing his heavy boots and a cotton skirt, showing off his muscled legs. The detective’s simple, nearly threadbare wardrobe that he wore to work was something that Nureyev had always found endearing. The idea of being able to keep something long enough for it to show it’s well-loved age was completely foreign to Nureyev.

Then Juno inhaled sharply through his nose and turned to look in his direction, his visible eye wide but his expression completely unreadable. When Juno didn’t do or say anything after a few moments, Nureyev decided to say something to rile the lady up a bit and give Nureyev one of his beautiful overreactions to break the awful silence that was growing between them.

“Good morning, Juno,” he said, and he knew it came out dripping with every besotted thought he had ever entertained about Juno. Nureyev could see it in the way Juno’s expression twisted just a bit as he released the breath he was holding in a gusty sigh through his nose and stomped over.

“Didn’t think you’d come back,” Juno said as he sat down heavily across from him, his tone hard and not even bothering to return his ‘good morning’. Nureyev met his gaze over the rims of his glasses and something ached in his chest at the hurt he saw on Juno’s face.

“I considered staying away,” Nureyev confessed.

“But you didn’t, huh?” Juno supplied with a snort, crossing his arms. “Ben told me you’re a terrible date.”

“Yes, well,” Nureyev hummed, smirking as he returned to writing in his notebook. “That is bound to happen when the wrong date shows up.”

There was a long beat of silence.

“What.” Juno said it so flatly, it hadn’t even sounded like a question. It was a statement of confusion, and one that didn’t even necessarily demand an answer. For a detective, Nureyev figured, asking questions was more of a courtesy to others.

So when he looked back up at Juno, he was nearly winded by how his beautiful face softened with confusion. Nureyev wasn’t sure he had ever wanted to kiss another person in his life more than he did in that moment.

“Yes, I remember handing my second invitation to a clever private eye and paid him a great many compliments that hardly cover my true feelings for him,” Nureyev elaborated with a dreamy sigh. “Yet, when I arrived, it was his twin brother who met me. To say I was confused would be an understatement, Juno, and given that his brother and I barely tolerate each other—”

“Wait, what?” Juno sputtered, shaking his head. “Start over, and without the dramatics.”

“Well, that’s no fun at all—”

“Glass,” Juno warned.

Nureyev shifted so that he was leaning on the table with his elbows. “Juno, I had asked for you to go with me,” he said, straightforward and earnest. “My work is coming to an end soon, and I wanted to have a nice evening with you before I left.”

Juno shook his head in disbelief. “But, Ben—”

“Has nothing to do with this,” Nureyev pushed, reaching across the table between them to rest his hand on Juno’s forearm. “I would like an opportunity to correct my blunder—”

Juno wrenched away from Nureyev’s touch as if it had burned him, and chewed the inside of his cheek. When he stood up, Nureyev reached to stop him but Juno just shook his head and retreated as quickly as he could to the kitchen. Rita made a sad sound and followed him.

Nureyev sat there for several moments, shocked at the turn in the conversation before schooling his expression into something cool and unfazed. He turned back to his notes and stayed at his table for hours, looking back up occasionally to see if Juno was going to return. Nureyev hoped his face didn’t show just how much it hurt when Juno didn’t.

The next two days went about the same way, with Nureyev only seeing Juno for brief intervals. Nureyev began to wonder if Benten would let him off the hook by virtue of Juno completely refusing to see him again.

By the third day, Nureyev was discouraged, though hoped he was fairly successful in not showing it.

He was sitting at his spot in the cafe watching some surveillance footage he had recorded, trying to find the cleanest take for each camera. The idea was that he would hijack the video feeds and loop some pre-recorded footage of empty halls, effectively hiding in plain sight as he snuck in.

As the lunch hour approached, he heard the kitchen door swing open. Nureyev paused the video to look up, and he truly disliked how much it upset him that it wasn’t Juno coming out, but Benten instead. Schooling his expression into a cool mask of disinterest, Nureyev looked back at the footage and hit play.

His work had been put off as long as possible, and it was only a matter of time before O’Flaherty contacted him again. Or worse, called in another thief. But that meant cutting his losses with Juno, which was for the best in more ways than one. It simply made no proper sense being so singularly focused on the private eye at all; they had rarely spoken, and when they did Juno was cagey and suspicious, his moments of openness fleeting and rare.

But those moments were captivating, pulling Nureyev in against the current, and all he could think about was the way Juno’s brow would soften and his jaw would clench just before he chewed the inside of his cheek. He thought of Juno’s smirk and the way it would settle into a soft smile and, even rarer, a genuine huff of laughter at a particularly well-timed joke.

Nureyev wanted to bottle each and every one of those moments and take them with him, but he supposed the memories would have to do.

“Ugh, this is getting depressing,” Benten burst out, loudly and without warning, and stormed around the counter to sit at Nureyev’s table. “What are you doing?”

Nureyev looked at his coffee, and then to his work before asking in a stage whisper, “Is this a trick question, Benzaiten?”

“I mean about our deal, Rex,” Benten said with a roll of his eyes.

“My job here on Mars is ending,” Nureyev replied, closing his laptop and leaning across the table to give Benten his full attention. “I will be leaving shortly after regardless of outstanding affairs.”

“Bullshit,” Benten snapped. “You claim to really care about—”

“I have already delayed as much as I can, Benzaiten. My… client is growing impatient with the lack of results, especially seeing as I billed the work as child’s play at our consultation,” Nureyev hissed. “I would rather not leave without talking to Juno, and I was truly intending to keep to our deal, but I do not have the luxury of time to wait for him to work through whatever he’s feeling.”

Benten rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Rex,” he muttered as he moved to get up.

Something about the tone was the final straw, the constant needling from Benten and Juno’s avoidance and Ramses’ micromanagement becoming too much.

His hand flashed across the table, grabbing Benten’s wrist to pull him back down into his seat. Leaning across the table, Nureyev schooled his expression into something pleasant. “You are a spoiled brat, do you know that?” Nureyev said through gritted teeth. “You’ve pranced through life with this cocky little attitude, all the while Juno probably took every slap, punch, and insult that you earned.”

“Hey—”

“I can see it in the way you hold yourself next to him, the way Juno steps in front of you if it seems you’ve put your foot in it,” Nureyev continued, looking him up and down. “Do you even realize you’ve made him your shield?”

Benten did not answer, only stared at Nureyev with a raised eyebrow, though he did actually appear cowed. Nureyev would take it, and allowed himself one of his work smiles that showed off too many teeth, and not an ounce of kindness to soften the blow.

“You go on and on as if you understand exactly what I am, but I know it was Juno that figured it all out because he’s the clever one,” he continued unkindly and leaned back, watching Benten’s face. “I will say this again, but only because I hope it is repeated to Juno; I have delayed as long as possible, and will have to act soon. Once I have, I’m leaving and never returning.”

Nureyev moved to stand, but Benten held his hand up to stop him.

“Maybe you should stay for lunch today,” he said.

“What part of—”

“Yeah, yeah, I got all that and I’ll pass it on,” Benten replied and rolled his eyes. “He’ll probably come right out, yeah?”

“Possibly,” Nureyev said as he leaned back in his chair. “He’ll at least confirm what I am saying makes sense. I’m not making excuses to weasel out of something I wanted to do.”

Benten nodded, looking hurt and angry, and stood. For a moment, Nureyev felt a twinge of guilt watching him walk away, but it passed quickly when he remembered the constant antagonism. When Benten was gone, Rita scurried over to sit with him and gave him one of her brightest smiles.

“Wow, Mista Glass, I’ve never seen someone talk like that to Mista Benzaiten,” she said excitedly. “He’s a sweetheart, honestly, but I know he’s also really mean when he wants to be, y’know?”

“I didn’t mean to snap at him like that,” Nureyev said, because he thought he should say something like that.

“Yeah you did,” Rita laughed. “And he deserved it for what he’s been doin’.”

“What does that mean?” Nureyev asked, and he jumped a bit at Rita’s explosive sigh.

“What I’m sayn’ is Mista Benzaiten has a lot of good reasons to be suspicious of you, and I kinda agree. We’re both real tired of people hurtn’ Mista Steel, y’know?” She did not wait for Nureyev to respond to her question. “But I dunno, you look at him different and I think Mista Benzaiten sees that, too, but he’s scared. He thought someone looked at Juno different before, and that went real bad for both of them but that’s besides the point—” she took a deep breath and when Nureyev opened his mouth to ask for more information, she continued, “He gave you one of those ulti-whatever’s and you held up your end of it and he’s just sittn’ there lettn’ you fail! Which I said wasn’t fair, and let me tell ya Mista Glass, I was not happy that Mista Benzaiten actually went on that date with you. I told him to come clean, to tell you Mista Steel didn’t understand you asked him out and that going along with his conclusion-jumpn’ was more hurtful than helpful, but Mista Benzaiten was insist’ on talkn’ to you all private-like.”

Nureyev blinked at her, overwhelmed and still working his way through everything that was just said to him. “Thank you, Rita,” he said eventually, and she heaved a huge sigh.

“No, thank you Mista Glass! It's been a long week and these boys are gonna be the death of me if they keep it up,” she vented, leaning back in her chair.

“We can’t be having that,” Nureyev said sympathetically, returning the bright smile she gave him. “It’s safe to assume that you did most of Juno’s digging into me, yes?”

“Yeah,” Rita replied with a frown. It looked strange on her face, like hers wasn’t built for scowling. “I know a thing or two.”

Nureyev chuckled, shaking his head as he said, “Rita, I’ve done my own research into this merry bunch, professionally speaking I mean. I know the extent of your skills. How much have you found?”

Rita’s frown became a pout at the question. “Nothn’. Mista Steel figures ‘Rex Glass’ is a brand spankn’ new alias, so there’s nothn’ tied to it. Even facial recognition comes up with nothn’. It’s very annoyn’.”

“And when did you figure this all out?” he pushed, and Rita laughed.

“Oh, like the day afta’ you started showin’ up here or somethin’ like that,” she replied and Nureyev felt a shock rocket through him. “Mista Steel’s had your numba’ figured out since he saw you at Hyperion Brewn’ or whateva’ they’re called.”

Nureyev opened his mouth to say something but shut it, stunned as he was that Juno would entertain him at all.

The door to the kitchen opened, and habit had Nureyev looking up. Ready as he was to be disappointed, he was actually startled to see Juno leaving the kitchen carrying a plate with a sandwich. He strode up to Nureyev’s table and put the plate down, his expression very serious.

But Nureyev could see uncertainty in the lines around Juno’s visible eye, and it was obvious he was chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Juno—” Nureyev began, but Juno shook his head sharply.

“On the house. Make sure to use your napkin,” Juno bit out before turning on his heel and heading back to the kitchen.

Curiously, Nureyev picked up the sandwich—the same sandwich he had ordered the first time he ate there— and looked at the napkin that sat beneath it. Through the layers, he could see there was something written and couldn’t help the little chuckle.

“Oh, how mysterious, Mista Glass!” Rita cried excitedly. “Secret codes and hidden notes and all that stuff!”

Nureyev smiled indulgently at her and picked the napkin up to flip it open. Written inside were comms details, which he could only assume were Juno’s. A brief note, as curt and surly as the lady who wrote it, told Nureyev to call whenever he was able to talk freely.

“Not very mysterious, nor secret, if the whole cafe can hear you, dear Rita,” Nureyev said teasingly, tucking the napkin away to pick up the sandwich and start eating it.

“Oh! Right!” Rita said with a determined look. “Then I guess I better whispa’ then.”

“It’s best that we stop speaking of it entirely, actually,” Nureyev said with a laugh, making quick work of the sandwich before packing up his things to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, hopefully.”

“Of course, Mista Glass!” Rita replied with a smile so bright it was likely visible from orbit.

As Nureyev left the cafe, he entered Juno’s information into his comms and made the call. His stomach did somersaults as it beeped, waiting anxiously for Juno to answer.

“That was fast,” Juno answered, his tone flat but the tension was palpable.

“Would you prefer I call back later, dear detective?” Nureyev asked with a warm chuckle, and this earns him a snort of laughter.

“No, this is fine, just give me a second. I’m dealing with the oven,” he said, and Nureyev listened to Juno fiddle with and press several buttons, muttering calculations under his breath.

“Don’t you have an oven that does all of that for you?” Nureyev eventually asked, which was responded to by adorable stammering.

“I prefer doing it myself,” Juno grumbled defensively. “If it does the thinking for me, I’ll get lazy.”

“I truly doubt you’ve ever been ‘lazy’ a day in your life, Juno,” Nureyev all but purred, and he smiled at the shaky breath that earned him.

“Well that shows how well you know me then,” Juno said firmly.

Nureyev laughed as he hailed a cab. “That’s what I’m trying to change, dear detective,” he said, hoping he was conveying his sincerity well enough over the comms.

“Stop that,” Juno bit out, but the tone was pleading.

“Stop what, darling?” Nureyev asked cheekily as he slid into the backseat of the cab, handing the driver a business card for the hotel.

“Sucking up to me.”

“I can assure you, Juno, that is not at all what I’m doing,” Nureyev reassured with a small chuckle, letting his voice drop an octave. “But I’m not opposed to suck—”

“Nope, no, absolutely not,” Juno choked a bit. “We’re not— you said you’re leaving soon, right?”

Nureyev hummed his acknowledgement, his smile turning a bit sad.

“Will you tell me what all this is about?” Juno asked, his tone sceptical.

“That depends,” Nureyev replied cheekily, and Juno laughed.

“Okay, I’ll bite. It depends on what?” he asked, and Nureyev could hear the eyeroll.

Nureyev suddenly felt… something like worry and stress, knowing what came next. It was time to take the plunge and it was terrifying.

“Will you go to dinner with me, two nights from now?”

Juno scoffed. “Like a date?” he asked, his tone mocking and bitter but there was an edge to it that Nureyev desperately wanted to be hope.

“Only if you want it to be, Juno,” he replied soothingly. “It can just be dinner, where we can get to know each other and I will… tell you everything after if you still want to know.”

Juno hesitated for a moment before he took a shaky breath. “Do you want it to be a date?” Juno asked quietly.

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation, and he smiled softly at the little gasp Juno let out.

“Tomorrow, I’ll go to dinner with you,” Juno said after a few more moments.

“Tomorrow?” Nureyev asked, raising an eyebrow at the change in pace.

“That a problem, Glass?” Juno asked with a laugh. “You said you’re running out of time.”

Nureyev smiled, and said, “It’s not a problem at all. Thank you—”

“It’s not a date, by the way,” Juno suddenly said, defensive all over again.

“Of course not,” Nureyev agreed.

“You’re still a criminal.”

“Of course, so you say,” he laughed.

“It’s my job to turn people like you in.”

“Of course, Juno. I am aware.”

Juno let out a huff, sounding almost annoyed that Nureyev didn’t argue any of those points. “Good,” he bit out, sighing quietly. “Where are we going?”

“Let me worry about that, dear detective,” Nureyev said soothingly. “I’ll pick you up around seven?”

“Yeah, okay,” Juno said.

“Excellent, I’ll pick you up from your apartment—”

“I’m not telling you where I live, Glass,” Juno all but snapped, and Nureyev chuckled.

“The cafe then?”

Juno grunted, and Nureyev took that as an agreement and smiled.

“What should I wear?” Juno asked.

“Something nice, I suppose,” Nureyev said as the cab pulled up to his hotel. “But I’m sure you’ll be radiant no matter—”

“I told you to stop sucking up to me,” Juno all but growled.

“And I told you that wasn’t what I was doing,” Nureyev sighed as he counted out some creds and handed them to the driver.

“Then what are you doing, Glass?” he demanded, and he sounded so angry and doubtful.

The impulse was there to continue to tease and flirt with the testy detective, but Nureyev knew it was time for sincerity. It was the least he could offer, and the least that Juno deserved.

“I’m flirting with you because I find you to be incredibly clever, strong-willed and sharp,” he began, taking a deep breath. “You are also very pleasing to look at, and you make the best pastries and sandwiches I have ever had the pleasure of enjoying in my life. And—”

“Okay, Glass, I get it!” Juno shouted, and Nureyev laughed as he got out of his cab.

“Do you, Juno? Because I could go on,” he teased.

Juno laughed at that, one of his beautiful rare ones that lifted Nureyev’s spirits like nothing else ever had. It was a strained laugh, still, but amused nonetheless.

“I bet you could,” Juno murmured, and the tone of his voice was so sweet Nureyev wished he could kiss him. “I’m hanging up now, Glass.”

“I will see you tomorrow, dear detective,” Nureyev said with a smile.

“I won’t talk to you when you’re at the cafe,” he warned.

“That’s fine. I’ll still be coming for my breakfast,” Nureyev replied.

“Whatever, knock yourself out,” Juno grumbled. “I have actual work to do. Bye.”

The comms beeped as Juno hung up and Nureyev couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he went to his room.

None of the traps in his room had been tripped, and after a cursory look for bugs and finding none, he sat down at the desk to work on removing any video evidence of himself from around the city. He knew the location of just about every camera in the city by then, having perfected this particular chore for over two weeks.

After that, he started compiling his plans, both in preparation for performing the heist, and also for it all to be organized for Juno to easily read. It was at that point that it properly dawned on Nureyev that the next evening, he would be spilling everything to Juno, and his gut squeezed at the thought.

Nureyev wanted to bolt, to go right then and complete the job and leave Mars forever. It would be the smart thing to do, the professional thing.

But he thought about Juno, waiting for Nureyev to pick him up, wearing that same sad expression he had when he was convinced Nureyev wanted Ben. He thought about how he would join the long line of disappointments who preceded him, and it made him sick to his stomach.

Juno deserved the truth, and what was more, Nureyev wanted him to know it.

The next morning, Nureyev sat at the cafe eating his breakfast and reading a book. He had no actual work to do anymore, and no longer had a reason to pretend that he did. The cafe was slower than usual, but Juno still managed to stay in the kitchen the whole time as he promised. If Juno ever peeked out through the kitchen door, Nureyev never caught him looking.

It was just before lunch, while Nureyev and Rita sat together watching one of her streams, when Benten arrived with Mick hot on his heels. Nureyev glanced up just in time to see Mick look right at him and frown. The expression was almost comical because, much like Rita, the man’s face was just simply not designed to hold a scowl.

Mick sat down, and grinned broadly at Rita’s delighted, “Hi, Mista Mercury!”

“Good morning,” he said, turning back to Nureyev seriously. “So what are your intentions with my best bud?”

The question actually took Nureyev by surprise and he asked, “I beg your pardon?”

“He means Mista Steel, Mista Glass,” Rita sighed. “He calls Mista Steel his best friend, but I’m actually Mista Steel’s best friend—”

“You’re both wrong,” Benten called from the counter, where he was reading a magazine, not even looking up at them. “I’m his best friend by default.”

“Well,” Mick prompted, ignoring both of them. “What are your intentions with my best friend?”

Nureyev raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “That is certainly a loaded question, Mr Mercury,” he replied eventually.

Mick made a face, which Nureyev was positive was meant to look a lot like Juno’s deadpan stare, but it just looked silly on his goofy face.

“Are they pure?” Mick asked, the corners of his mouth twitching.

Nureyev let out an actual bark of laughter at that, delighting in the way that Benten’s head shot up to stare at them.

“Absolutely not,” he replied cheekily, his tone almost mockingly flirtatious, though the words did summon some fantasies that had heat pooling between his legs.

Mick’s face broke into a grin while Benten audibly gagged. “Hey! That’s great because my buddy Jay is a catch and deserves to be treated like the queen he—”

“Mick!” Benten hissed. “Focus? Please?”

“Oh, right, yeah,” Mick said, visibly working to school his expression into something more serious and asked solemnly, “Do you like mushrooms?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Benten muttered, dropping his head onto the counter with a heavy thunk.

“I don’t have much of an opinion on them, to be honest,” Nureyev replied, shrugging with one shoulder. “They aren’t something I particularly love, I suppose.”

Mick was grinning again, and Nureyev was baffled by him.

“Perfect! Cos Jay hates them, like even the smell of them,” Mick said quickly. “There was this one time when I ate this whole mushroom and cheese pie thing, and JayJay walked home because he couldn’t stand sitting in the cab with me all the way back—”

“Mick, c’mon!” Benten groaned, and Mick actually rolled his eyes and Nureyev was certain the man was properly annoyed.

“Okay man, Glass, whatever,” Mick said with an exaggerated sigh. “Do you like Juno?”

“Very much,” Nureyev said without a moment’s hesitation, which brought a smile to Mick’s face again.

“And you wouldn’t willingly put him in harm’s way?” he continued.

“Not if I could help it.”

“And you’re not blackmailing or forcing him to go out with you tonight?”

“Not at all.”

Mick narrowed his eyes at Nureyev for a minute, the silence between them dragging by, before he smiled and shrugged. “Good enough for me,” he said pleasantly.

“Seriously, Mick?” Benten asked sceptically and Mick nodded.

“Yup! Listen, JayJay can take care of himself, Ben. I’m not gonna go around deciding for him what he can and cannot do,” Mick said, shrugging a bit at Rita’s annoyed huffing next to him.

“Did you even listen to anything I told you about what this guy does for a living?” Benten asked.

“Yeah, Ben, but I think Juno is the best equipped for that anyway. But, I mean,” Mick trailed off with a shrug, his face turning properly serious. “Whether I like him or not isn’t what matters, same with you and Rita. Jay makes his own choices, so I say we just get comfy with the lady’s decisions and be ready to clean up after things if we have to.”

Rita and Nureyev stared at Mick for a few long moments, before Rita said, “Wow, Mista Mercury! That was real smart! I mean, I’ve been saying the same stuff and tryn’ to get Mista Benzaiten to see it that way, too!”

The compliment caught Mick off-guard, and for a moment or two he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. “Gee, thanks, Rita. Trying to protect Jay just makes him more reckless in my experience.”

“God, Mercury,” Benten said with a roll of his eyes. “You can pull that kind of wisdom out of your ass for Juno, but not yourself?”

“I’m doing fine,” Mick replied with a shrug.

“Mick, I literally just saved you from a mugger,” Benten said flatly, to which Mick just laughed.

Nureyev checked his watch and sighed, his heart suddenly in his throat. “Well, I should head out,” he said with a small smile. “I have some work to do before my dinner with Juno.”

“Wait, you can’t just leave without lunch, Mista Glass! Lemme go grab you somethn’, on the house!” Rita said as she jumped up and hurried back behind the counter. She froze suddenly and pointed back at Nureyev with a fierce expression. “And you’re taking a bag, Mista Glass. Or else I’m never serving you anything ever again.”

Nureyev laughed at the threat, utterly confused by it, but not interested in questioning it or the cringes of Rita and Benten.

- - - - -

Nureyev fiddled with the cuffs of his blazer in the back seat of the cab before tugging at his gloves lightly. He was nervous about the upcoming evening, which meant he was nauseated and ready to stop the cab and flee. Though it felt cowardly, he couldn’t actually look when the cab turned the corner toward the cafe, knowing it would be in view.

The fear and anxiety seized his chest, and the urge to disappear rose up like bile in his throat all over again. But he knew disappearing was not possible, and chose instead to flat out ignore their destination until he absolutely had to face it.

The car stopped and Nureyev only had a few seconds to attempt to collect himself before the door opened and someone slid in next to him. Taking a deep breath, Nureyev turned to face Juno and was immediately winded by the vision that sat across the bench from him. It was a good thing he hadn’t looked ahead, because he was certain that he would have actually bolted if he had.

Juno was dressed very well for a dinner he insisted was not a date, wearing a yellow gown with off-the-shoulder sleeves and a belt cinched tight around his waist. Notably, there was a dramatic slit up the length of the skirt, exposing Juno’s entire left leg to Nureyev’s greedy gaze, showing off the lace boots he wore as well as a tangle of flower embroidery on his hip.

After a few moments of gawking, Nureyev met Juno’s gaze, taking in the dark lipstick, the dramatic smokey eye shadow and the crisp black eyepatch. As he stared, Nureyev realized that the detective’s cheekbones, jawline, and collarbones shimmered with gold highlights, and he was desperate to mess it up with his tongue.

Simply put, Juno was breathtaking. He was also incredibly tense.

Juno was watching Nureyev’s face, and had begun to mess with the hem of his dress. “What?” Juno finally asked defensively, biting the inside of his cheek.

“You’re stunning, Juno,” Nureyev breathed, and he couldn’t even find it in himself to feel embarrassed at how easily he was affected by Juno. When Juno dipped his head and smiled softly at the compliment, Nureyev felt like he was in free-fall for a moment.

“Thanks, you…” Juno trailed off, shaking his head. “You look good. Too, I mean. You look good, too.”

The ride most of the way to the restaurant was quiet, though not uncomfortable. At least, the quiet wasn’t. Nureyev, however, found himself utterly distracted by Juno’s bare leg, wholly visible from his hip to his ankle. Nureyev wanted to reach across the bench and touch, to feel Juno’s warm skin through his leather glove, to take off his glove and feel the softness of that thigh under his fingers and squeeze the meat of it.

Several times over the course of the short cab ride, Nureyev had to look out the window to catch his breath and school his thoughts to something less needy. His body was reacting to his thoughts, and it would be incredibly humiliating to soak through his pants before they even reached the restaurant.

“Hey,” the cab driver suddenly said, his voice stern. “I’m not gonna stop you or watch, but it’s a 300 cred cleaning fee if you mess up the upholstery.”

Juno choked as Nureyev’s eyes snapped up to meet the man’s gaze in the rearview mirror. Juno stammered for a bit, saying, “Wh-what!? N-no it’s not— we’re not— there isn’t— what?”

The cab driver just rolled his eyes. “Whatever, just letting you know,” he muttered.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Juno stared out the window and made a noise in the back of his throat. Nureyev couldn’t tell if it was a sound of amusement or something else and that made him even more nervous.

“I said this wasn’t a date,” Juno said flatly, glaring over his shoulder at Nureyev. The cab driver snorted at that, and Juno turned a glower at full heat on him.

“I am aware, dear detective,” Nureyev replied.

When Juno looked at him again, there was something intense in his expression, his visible eye narrowed at him. “Then why did you bring me to the place in Hyperion City for dumb saps to propose?”

Nureyev was tempted to feign ignorance, but this whole endeavour was about being up front and honest with Juno. Lying, especially over something like choosing a romantic venue for a night he wished to be just so, seemed stupid.

“It’s still not a date, as long as you don’t want it to be, Juno,” he replied finally. “I also wanted to make it clear exactly where my interest in you lies.”

Juno bit the inside of his cheek, mulling over Nureyev’s words before nodding. With another firm look, Juno said, “Still not a date.”

Nureyev smiled broadly. “Of course, dear.”

Juno seemed distracted for a moment, his gaze glancing down and locking onto Nureyev’s mouth. Clearing his throat loudly, the detective shook his head and opened his door, slipping out. Nureyev watched him, particularly interested when the movement shifted the dress to show off even more leg as well as a hint of his ass. At that, Nureyev had to take a deep breath to calm himself and was interrupted by the cab driver demanding to be paid.

Juno was waiting for him when he got out of the car, staring up at the restaurant with some trepidation.

“Everything alright, Juno?” Nureyev asked, standing at full height and straightening his blazer.

“This place is expensive, Glass,” Juno complained, but there was something in his tone that Nureyev couldn’t quite place.

“Have you been?” Nureyev asked cautiously, and immediately felt some regret when Juno’s expression darkened a bit.

“Yeah, a long time ago,” he replied with a sigh.

“Well,” Nureyev hummed and offered his elbow to Juno, grinning toothily when Juno accepted it without question. “All of my expenses are paid.”

Juno snorted, allowing himself to be led up the stairs and through the doors. “You’re going to expense a date?”

“Of course not, detective, that would be incredibly unprofessional!” Nureyev said with a scandalized gasp. “Thankfully, as you keep insisting, this isn’t a date.”

Juno looked away pointedly, chewing the inside of his cheek at realizing his slip-up. The urge to spin Juno where he stood and kiss the breath from his lungs was strong, and Nureyev was almost embarrassed by how badly he wanted it.

When they reached the Maitre d’, Nureyev said, “Reservation for Duke and Dahlia Rose.”

Nureyev smiled pleasantly, even as Juno snorted rudely at hearing the aliases, and tugged him along behind the Maitre d’ as she guided them through the dining room.

“Dahlia Rose? Really?” Juno asked with another laugh. “The hell kind of name is that?”

“I’ve used Duke Rose before, years ago, and I figured you might want an alias, too,” Nureyev teased with a wink down at Juno. “‘Dahlia’ was the best I could do on such short notice. Not all names can be as pretty as ‘Juno’, dear.”

“Isn’t it, I don’t know, a bit obvious that it’s not a real name?” Juno asked, and Nureyev smiled indulgently down at him but did not answer right away.

Nureyev took a moment to look around the dining room, noting the number of occupants, potential exits, and possible threats. Once he was finished casing the room, he paid attention to the actual people and with some amusement, he realized that several patrons had stopped to stare at Juno as he glided past their tables, eyes locked on his bare leg and the flowers at his hip.

Once they arrived at their table and were left alone, Nureyev cleared his throat to say, “Our names would only be ‘obvious’ aliases to incredibly clever private eyes, I would think.”

Juno looked away, seemingly startled by the praise, but he was smiling. The reaction of some nearby patrons at Juno’s demure display was completely understandable to Nureyev.

“You’re sucking up again,” Juno accused.

“I’m complimenting you, Juno,” Nureyev said as a server approached their table and quickly ordered them a bottle of wine.

“It’s the same difference,” Juno said flatly, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Hardly. ‘Sucking up’ as you call it implies some deception, as if part of what I was saying was a lie,” Nureyev began, pausing only long enough to sample the wine their server brought back and approve it to be served. He smiled at Juno’s frown over the rim of his wine glass. “Now, when I say that you are an absolute vision, the most gorgeous and clever lady I have ever had the pleasure of knowing? I am not stretching anything, lying, or teasing. I mean my words completely.”

“Whatever, Glass,” Juno muttered, obviously embarrassed but also somewhat pleased.

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes as they contemplated their menus.

“Ugh, I hate this,” Juno grumbled eventually, dropping his menu back on the table. “Just order me something. My eye’s too tired to read the fancy font. Nothing with mushrooms, though”

“Of course, dear,” Nureyev laughed. When the server returned, he ordered their food and turned his attention back to Juno.

The detective was lounging back in his chair, one arm crossed over his waist while the other held his wine glass just below his nose as he watched Nureyev.

“What’s on your mind?” Nureyev prompted and Juno just shrugged.

“This really seems like your whole… thing,” he replied, though his tone seemed to imply otherwise.

Nureyev couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled up. “Does it?”

Juno’s eye narrowed a bit, though his expression was kept pointedly disinterested. “You seem born to it,” he finally said and Nureyev smirked.

“Do you think so?” he prompted.

Something shifted in Juno’s gaze, where it seemed even sharper than Nureyev had ever seen it, and then he shook his head a bit. “No. Rich people are white-collar through and through, even when they’re being shady,” Juno finally answered, his tone firm and sure, and Nureyev felt a shiver roll through him. “They rarely risk getting their own hands dirty if they can help it.”

“Good work, detective!” Nureyev praised, hunger settling in his gut when Juno looked away with a shy smile again. “I knew you were very clever.”

“It’s not that hard to figure out,” Juno attempted to deflect.

“Ah, but it is,” Nureyev disagreed. “You’re the first person I’ve known who guessed correctly as you have.”

“Okay, so you weren’t born to it,” Juno pressed, and Nureyev could tell he was trying to move the conversation away from praising him.

“It’s all learned, you are correct. Not necessarily an act, per se, but I had to learn it for the job,” he replied with a smile, allowing it to become something a bit sharper as he said, “Much of my work involves schmoozing with the elite.”

Juno’s gaze locked onto his mouth again, his visible eye traveling along his teeth and he chewed the inside of his cheek.

“So, how did… you grow up to become Rex Glass,” Juno eventually asked, looking into his wine glass for a moment.

Nureyev debated responding, instinctively retreating inward as he was wont to do. But that was counterproductive to what he was hoping to achieve that evening with his beautiful dinner partner.

“I lived on the streets for much of my childhood, until I was taken in by a mentor. I don’t remember much of my life before that,” Nureyev replied, savouring his wine while Juno mulled over his words. “What about you?”

Juno snorted and rolled his eye a bit. “Ma used to work for Northstar Entertainment. Lost her job, and then things were hard,” Juno said with a shrug. “I’m sure you’ve already looked all that up.”

“Not at all,” Nureyev replied with a shake of his head. “I looked up the information the HCPD had on you once, but nothing personal.”

Juno looked completely baffled by his confession. “Why not?”

Nureyev had no good answer for Juno, and had to forcibly keep himself from answering with something witty and useless. “I’m not even sure, Juno. Normally, I would have, but I hesitated with you,” Nureyev said slowly, shrugging. “I wanted to hear what stories you have in your own words, I suppose. Perhaps it’s because I saw you before I knew even the first thing about you. I don’t know.”

“What do you know about me then?” Juno asked curiously.

“You’re a sharpshooter, and a damn good one—”

“Haven’t been a sharpshooter in five years, Glass—”

“No, no, do not interrupt,” Nureyev scolded, and Juno’s mouth snapped shut. “You can’t go from your level of talent to nothing, Juno. I know you’ve been going to shooting ranges weekly, according to Rita.”

“Doesn’t make me a sharpshooter,” Juno grumbled and Nureyev decided he didn’t want to argue with him.

“Regardless, I know you left the HCPD, and that there were some disciplinary notes, but I didn’t read them,” he reassured. “They weren’t relevant.”

Juno hummed, studying his face and seemed to decide, ultimately, that Nureyev was being truthful. “Huh, interesting. So this is honestly a chance to get to know each other?”

Nureyev nodded and laughed. “I have been saying that this whole time, but yes.”

Juno smirked, or at least tried for a smirk but it really was just a small, happy smile. “Oh,” was all he managed to say for a while, waiting patiently as the waiter brought a basket of bread to the table.

“I’m curious,” Nureyev began slowly. “What have you figured out about me?”

“Not much,” Juno replied with a petulant pout. “I’m guessing you’re Brahmese, but that’s not too difficult if you know what you’re looking for.”

Nureyev raised an eyebrow. “And did you? Know what to look for, I mean?”

“No,” Juno admitted bitterly. “Thought your teeth could be used as an identifier, but turns out most of the people on Brahma share your general description.”

They were silent for a few moments, Nureyev mulling over Juno’s words, and Juno thinking about something impossible for Nureyev to parse out at all.

“Did you live up on New Kinshasa, or…?” Juno asked, his tone careful as he asked.

“No one is homeless on New Kinshasa,” Nureyev replied simply, aiming to leave it at that when he realized it wasn’t much of an answer. “I lived on the surface. My family… they either left or died, but I have no memory of them.”

Juno nodded and tore at his bread thoughtfully. “I’m… sorry?” he said eventually, and Nureyev smiled at the stilted attempt at sympathy.

“It’s the past, dear detective,” Nureyev waved it off. “My mentor took me in when I was quite young, and taught me everything I know.”

With another nod, and perhaps sensing there was no good way to elaborate on his mentor in public, Juno said, “My mom wasn’t that great. Ben wouldn’t want me saying it, but she was… she was terrible. I don’t know why he still defends her, but whatever.”

“Perhaps he knew a different side of her?” Nureyev supplied and Juno snorted.

“Yeah, he knew a different side of her, for sure,” Juno said sarcastically, rolling his eye. “She lost her job at Northstar when we were, like, four and she blamed me ever since.”

“Where is she now?” Nureyev asked.

“Dead. She went to Hoosegow after she tried to kill Ben—”

Nureyev dropped his bread knife, which startled Juno mid-sentence. “Excuse me?” he asked, sure he had misheard.

“She went to Hoosegow—”

“No, I caught that part, Juno,” Nureyev said with a weak laugh. “She tried to kill Benzaiten?”

Juno paused a moment before he nodded. “She thought he was me.”

Nureyev blinked at him for several moments before he said, “See, you keep saying things as if they’re supposed to make sense, but they don’t, Juno.”

“She hated me and wanted me dead, got Ben confused for me and had really shitty aim,” Juno explained in a frustrated huff. “She went to Hoosegow and then died a couple years later. There’s really not that much to it, Glass.”

Nureyev wanted to ask more questions, but Juno was visibly tense, his expression tight. Asking more would only spoil the rest of the evening and Nureyev couldn’t have that.

“Tell me about Mick,” he said instead, and immediately the dark clouds around Juno parted. “How does he fit in with Juno Steel?”

The rest of their evening went on like that, with them discussing the lighter parts of their lives and telling stories that had each other laughing out loud.

They had finished their dinner and were working on their second bottle of wine as Nureyev began waxing poetic about other planets. He had been spurred on by the mystified way Juno stared at him over the rim of his wine glass, his deep blue eye catching the candlelight in an almost magical way.

“Wow, sounds amazing out there,” Juno murmured as Nureyev finished describing Neptune.

Nureyev hummed. “It is,” he said softly.

“Have you ever thought about… settling down?” Juno asked after a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek. “I mean, stopping for a while?”

Nureyev thought he could see a glimmer of hope in the detective’s eye, one that the lady was obviously trying to hide or stamp out. For a moment, Nureyev wanted to lie, had it prepared on the tip of his tongue even, to keep that hope alive and see him smile. But Juno Steel would always prefer a hard truth over a pretty lie, which was something Nureyev found that he liked quite a lot.

“No, not at all,” Nureyev said gently. “Settling down for people in my line of work… usually doesn’t involve surviving to retire.”

Juno nodded at that, and Nureyev saw something shift in his expression, but it was so slight that he could not even begin to figure it out. Just then, their desserts arrived and Nureyev started in on his experiences on Venus.

Across from him, Juno shifted in his seat to cross his legs as he leaned forward to eat his dessert. Nureyev barely refrained from jumping when Juno’s foot trailed up the inside of his leg, stopping to rest against his chair between his knees. Nureyev looked up at Juno questioningly, but the look Juno offered him was the picture of innocence.

It wasn’t until Juno’s foot nudged his knee deliberately that Nureyev realized he had stopped talking entirely. Clearing his throat, he continued his story with a shaky voice. When Juno took a moment to lick his spoon just a bit too deliberately with entirely too much bedroom eye, Nureyev’s words stuttered to a halt once again.

“What?” Juno asked cheekily, and Nureyev stared at a spot of cream left at the corner of his mouth.

“You— you’ve got a bit of cream,” Nureyev begins, pointing at the corner of his own mouth.

Juno chuckled softly, as if he was truly embarrassed by such a thing, and wiped his fingertips through the mess before slipping them into his mouth. It was a simple enough gesture, and not even particularly suggestive on it’s own, until Juno’s blue eye flickered up to meet his. The heat in that gaze was intense, and Nureyev could feel the space between his thighs grow hot and damp.

Then Juno hollowed his cheeks as he pulled his fingers out of his mouth with a soft, yet perfectly audible pop.

As Nureyev dropped his spoon onto his plate with a disruptive clatter, a patron at a nearby table dropped something small which made a tinkling noise as it hit the floor. Clearing his throat forcefully, Nureyev picked up his spoon and resumed his story without looking at the scheming temptress across from him, instead watching the other patron frantically scoop what looked like an engagement ring up off the floor. With some amusement, if only to make himself feel better about being far too wet for not even being touched yet, he observed that both the patron aiming to propose and their partner were distracted by Juno.

Juno moved his foot again, slipping it further up Nureyev’s inner thigh, rocking up and down until Nureyev met his gaze again. The brat had an eyebrow raised with the spoon held between his lips, and his expression was molten.

With some alarm, Nureyev considered that he was being tested, that it was some sort of trap. A test was much more Benzaiten’s style, however— he couldn’t imagine Juno pulling the same sort of petty nonsense.

Nureyev knocked back the last of his wine and cleared his throat. “Would you like another bottle of wine, Juno?” he asked, his voice thick as he lounged back in his chair, allowing his blazer to fall open. Immediately, Juno’s gaze gravitated to his torso, tracing where Nureyev’s corset cut off just below his chest. Beneath the corset was just a lace shirt, completely see-through except for two notably solid patches of flowers.

Juno eventually hummed, clearing his throat and scooping up the last bit of his dessert with a shake of his head. “I don’t think so. We still have something to discuss,” he said before smirking suggestively. “In private.”

“Ah, of course,” Nureyev said a bit shakily, swallowing thickly. “We could go back to your apartment? If you would like?”

Juno bit his lip and cast his eye downward, a mockery of shy nerves. “I was thinking we should go to your hotel room? It’ll be quiet, empty… private,” Juno said demurely, shrugging a bare shoulder that all but demanded Nureyev’s teeth to mark it up.

Nureyev watched Juno’s face, trying to gauge how much of what he was saying was innuendo, and said, “Of course. We can discuss things at my hotel as long and loud as we please,” he said slowly, smiling to expose his sharp teeth a bit. “We could get quite heated and not disturb a single person.”

“Sounds good to me,” Juno said, and his voice was strained suddenly, as if he hadn’t counted on Nureyev rising to his bait.

Nureyev made quick work of settling their bill, hardly even looking at the amount before he stood and offered his elbow to Juno. When the detective accepted, he tucked himself much closer to Nureyev’s side, the heat of him warming through the layer of his blazer.

Sliding into the backseat of the first available cab, Nureyev was startled when Juno sat on the bench directly beside him. Looking down, Nureyev swallowed hard as Juno’s bare thigh pressed along his leg, and he shivered when the detective’s shoulder leaned into his side while he smoothed his dress down properly.

Very conscious of the placement of his hands, Nureyev kept them clasped together in his lap as he stared resolutely out the window. However, the scheming lady next to him was determined to make any attempt at professionalism impossible, what with the way he kept shifting his leg against Nureyev’s.

The short cab ride to the hotel was already shaping up to feel like an eternity.

“So, is there a plan when we get to the hotel?”

Nureyev tilted his head just so to look down at Juno, knocked nearly breathless all over again by the gorgeous lady looking up at him. But he schooled his expression, smirking just enough to flash some of his teeth, and Nureyev did not miss the way Juno looked at his mouth, or the way Juno’s own mouth fell open with a nearly silent gasp.

“What do you mean by that, Juno?” Nureyev prompted, saying his name with a suggestive drawl and raising an eyebrow.

He did not miss the way Juno shivered when he said his name.

Juno leaned closer to him, the glorious heat of his soft body flush against his side. “You have a way in where we won’t be seen?” he pressed, his voice low.

Nureyev chuckled and leaned into Juno’s space, putting his gloved hand down on Juno’s thigh near where it met his hip As he leaned even harder against Juno, he slid his long leather-clad fingers down between Juno’s thighs, the head of the lady’s cock mere inches away.

Juno shuddered, tipping his head when Nureyev bent low to brush his lips against the shell of his ear. With a toothy smirk, Nureyev squeezed the meat of Juno’s thigh until he gasped.

“We won’t be sneaking past any cameras, my dear detective,” he explained in a whisper, luxuriating in the gasps and shudders of his beautiful lady. “We will walk in together, keeping everything professional, of course.”

“Professional?” Juno bit out, his voice breathy and dripping with tension.

“Of course, and it should be easy enough,” Nureyev teased, his lips brushing Juno’s ear and for a moment he nearly bites it. “This isn’t a date after all.”

Juno nodded jerkily with a hard swallow, and heat absolutely radiated off of Juno’s face.

Nureyev chuckled, flicking his tongue out to wet his lips, which in turn caught the shell of Juno’s ear. Relishing Juno’s shudder, Nureyev squeezed the thigh in his hand tight enough to bruise, holding firm until Juno let out a soft sound. It was just a quiet vocalization on the tail-end of his sharp exhale, and Nureyev wanted more of it. He suddenly wished that he wasn’t wearing his gloves, wanting so desperately to feel the detective’s soft skin under his fingertips.

“I will erase any footage of us together when we go up to our room,” Nureyev murmured, inwardly flinching at calling it their room, a slip-up he had never made before in his career as a thief. Juno at least did not seem to notice his poor word choice, his head tilted to the side, visible eye fluttering as Nureyev massaged his thigh. It was then that he realized that Juno had wrapped one of his hands around Nureyev’s wrist, holding tightly, but not trying to pull his hand away.

Before he pulled back, Nureyev took a moment longer to press his nose and mouth to the side of Juno’s head, just above his ear. Breathing in the scent of coconut and something else, he let out a soft groan only for Juno to hear. Finally, he released Juno, withdrawing his hand with a teasing slide of his fingertips against his sensitive inner-thigh. At Juno’s twitch and gentle gasp, Nureyev found himself very interested indeed to find out just how responsive his beautiful lady truly was.

Sitting back, Nureyev looked at Juno again and immediately regretted every action he made leading up to that very moment.

Juno’s gaze was molten, his lips parted and his visible eye heavy-lidded. There was a very alarming moment when Nureyev wanted to grab the private eye and kiss the breath from him, to press him back against their seat and swallow every gasp, moan, and pleading word his detective might utter.

Pulling on the reins of his self-control, Nureyev sucked a deep breath in through his nose and turned his attention straight ahead. Next to him, he could hear Juno taking a few deep breaths himself before he settled finally. The tension in the backseat was palpable, and every time Nureyev met the cab driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror, she looked completely unimpressed.

When they arrived at the hotel, Nureyev was still paying the driver when the doorman opened Juno’s door to assist him out of the vehicle.

“Ah, Mr Glass! Welcome back to the Hyperion Hotel!” the doorman said exuberantly as Nureyev stepped out behind Juno. “Would you and your companion enjoy a bottle of champagne this evening?”

“Thank you kindly, Washburn, but this is merely business,” Nureyev said with a pleasant smile, and he did not miss the sceptical tilt of the doorman’s eyebrows at his claim.

“Of course, Mr Glass,” Washburn said with a knowing wink. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

With that, Nureyev and Juno entered the opulent lobby with at least a foot between them. Nureyev nodded politely to the associates behind the front desk as they all greeted him by name as well, and Juno made a noise in the back of his throat.

“It’s not, you know, weird that they all know your name?” Juno asked quietly.

“Not at all, my dear Juno,” Nureyev replied with an indulgent smile. “In a place like this, it’s industry standard for all employees to know any guest staying longer than two nights by name.”

“Sounds pretty risky,” Juno murmured and Nureyev laughed a bit.

“This is why I usually stay at little dives if I intend to spend more than a day in one place,” Nureyev agreed. “Employees at places like that are barely paid enough to show up to their shifts, and if you tip them nicely they’ll lie to Dark Matters for you if they have to.”

“Speaking from experience?” Juno said with a snort as they reached the elevators.

“Perhaps,” Nureyev teased with a sly smile, guiding Juno into the elevator when it arrived.

It felt as though the elevator was crawling up the floors after that, and Nureyev let out a sigh. “There are only three cameras on my floor, all of which are situated at the elevator bay,” Nureyev began, his voice low and serious. “One will be facing us when we exit the elevator, so you will have to keep your face low without actually looking as though you are hiding it.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Juno replied, and there wasn’t even an ounce of sarcasm in his tone. “The other two cameras?”

“They face down the two wings. Once we turn down the hall to my room, it will be behind us so it should be a simple thing with minimal risk,” Nureyev answered, and felt something shift in his chest at the curt nod Juno gave him.

“Got it,” Juno murmured, shrugging.

Nureyev was genuinely impressed by how quickly Juno was able to follow his lead as they stepped out of the elevator, keeping his head down by taking his comms out of his bag to fiddle like he was getting ready to call someone. His focus was remarkable, and Nureyev witnessed the exact moment when Juno relaxed again. He hadn’t even realized just how serious Juno had been until they turned the corner and had their backs to the camera.

Gone was the intense look and stony silence, and in its place was the simmering heat from the backseat of the cab again. Their gazes met once and Nureyev was nearly overwhelmed with the desire to pin the detective against the wall and have his wicked way with him right there. When they arrived at Nureyev’s room, Juno leaned against the doorjamb and smiled up at him in such a broad, open way that something ached terribly deep in Nureyev’s chest.

Nureyev was going to insist they talk once they stepped inside, he decided. He wanted the air to be clear between them, to make sure Juno went into anything they might do that evening fully informed. Juno knew he was a criminal, yes, but there was so much more to his job on Mars, things that were directly related to Juno. Nureyev knew he couldn’t move forward with that hanging over and between them.

The lock on the door chimed as it released, and Nureyev pushed the door open. Standing with his back against it to hold it open for Juno, he gestured grandly for the detective to enter. The smile on Juno’s face as he stepped into the darkened entryway from the hall was mischievous, and Nureyev narrowed his eyes a bit in suspicion when Juno did not continue into the suite.

There was no way Nureyev would have predicted what Juno had planned.

Hands grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down, his sharp gasp of surprise swallowed in a hot mouth and smothered by plump lips made sticky with lipstain. Nureyev was a weak man, however, and returned the hard kiss by meeting Juno’s tongue halfway, shivering as Juno pressed his perfect, soft body flush to his.

He was effectively pinned against the door he was holding open, and he didn’t want to be anywhere else in the galaxy. Juno was making delicious little sounds against his tongue as he hitched his bare leg up, seemingly to wrap it around Nureyev’s waist, but their difference in height was too much. With a low growl, Nureyev grabbed Juno’s supple ass with both hands and hauled him up until the detective could find purchase with his legs around his thin waist and his arms draped over his shoulders.

All thoughts of talking things out with Juno first had swiftly flown from Nureyev’s mind, every coherent thought he might have had fled. He realized with some very distant alarm that they had somehow made it all the way through the suite and into the bedroom, as he found himself seated on the bed with Juno squirming in his lap. The detective was whining into his mouth, one of his hands tangled in his loose hair; Nureyev didn’t even recall taking the tie out of it and undoing the braid, which was almost concerning enough to snap him out of his lust-driven haze. Juno’s other hand was on his chest, groping one of his tits and flicking his thumb across the nipple.

Nureyev wasn’t very sensitive there, but he also wasn’t about to deny having Juno’s hands on him.

But Nureyev’s own hands were frantic as well, his desire to touch and hold every part of Juno taking over now that he could. One hand was on Juno’s thigh following the straps that wrapped his leg snugly while the other clung to the golden fabric of the gown at his hip. Nureyev slipped his gloved fingers beneath the straps to squeeze Juno’s soft thigh, and rested his thumb teasingly near the base of a very prominent erection. When Juno shivered, Nureyev pressed into the sensitive spot with a possessive growl, pulling a needy sob from Juno and swallowing it greedily.

Nureyev groaned at how responsive his private eye was and licked deeper and harder into his perfect mouth.

Juno tugged at his corset, fumbling with the clasps as he whispered against his mouth, “Fuck, Glass, been wanting this off you since the moment I saw you in it.”

Hearing his alias jolted Nureyev out of his lustful haze once and for all, and he was struck with the need to tell Juno immediately. He couldn’t allow it to go any further so long as Juno knew him as Rex Glass.

Nureyev turned his head away from Juno’s lips and shivered as the detective only moved his lips to his throat, mouthing, biting, and sucking at the pale skin. “Juno, we still need to talk,” he gasped, moaning and squeezing Juno’s thighs.

“Then you talk, I’ll finish undressing us,” Juno murmured cheekily, and Nureyev could feel his smirk. “Multitasking, yeah?”

“Juno,” Nureyev moaned, lifting his hands to grab Juno’s wrists and pull his hands away from his clothes.

When Juno made a petulant sound against his pulse, Nureyev’s willpower wavered dangerously. What harm could it do, waiting until his desire was sated and he’d had the lady who haunted his waking thoughts?

Then Juno groaned, “C’mon, Rex, we can talk later.” His tone had been teasing, pleading but not demanding, but it felt like a blow to Nureyev’s gut.

That had been the first time Juno had called him ‘Rex’, and he felt sick to his stomach at the thought of continuing. There was an alarming moment where his thoughts swirled around the disgust in himself for letting it progress this far so quickly, and then the fear that came with the intensity of his feelings.

‘Rex Glass’ was a fake name, a fake person, while Juno was so real and beautiful. Nureyev wanted— no, needed Juno to know his name, his purpose for being on Mars. He needed Juno to know him, even if he chose in the end to cast Nureyev aside. He knew, roughly, what it meant for Juno to be in his lap, pulling at his clothes and begging so prettily for more.

He didn’t want to fuck Juno while only offering less than half of himself when the detective was giving everything in return. He didn’t want to fuck Juno as Rex glass, he thought with a soft cry when Juno bit his neck again.

With a gasp of utter terror, he realized he wanted to make love to Juno Steel as Peter Nureyev, more than anything else in the galaxy.

The detective was still working bruises into the skin of his long throat when Nureyev turned his head to whisper, directly into Juno’s ear, “Nureyev.”

Juno froze, and Nureyev screwed his eyes tightly shut.

“My name is Peter Nureyev.”

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#the penumbra podcast #the penumbra fanfic #junoverse #juno steel #jupeter #gerry writes #bittersweet #full fic

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