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aiiwa · 3 years

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BEAUTIFUL IN BLUE — IWAIZUMI HAJIME.

— iwaizumi hajime.

⤷ genre: college au - fluff / smut

⤷ warnings: cursing, mature content and themes. smut: fingering (vaginal and anal), unprotected sex. kind of proof read but if you see a typo...no you didn’t.

⤷ word count: 6.4k

— a/n: set in the “FRESHMAN YEAR” universe, and is a continuation of “PRETTY IN PINK” - which i suggest reading before this. for those who wanted some real action after pretty in pink, this is for you <3.

a couple of weeks had passed since the incident. at least that’s what you had been addressing the day you had sent photos of you modelling your new lingerie to iwa, as. things had seemingly returned back to normal, photo unmentioned, and still your steady friendship continued with the oblivious brunette.

and now november had announced its arrival, with your boots beginning to disappear under crunchy oceans of cherry, merigold and bronze, and the potent, musky-sweet smell of browning leaves swirling around the air. it was the tell tale sign that fall was well and truly here, and what better of a time to drive out of town for the day, and celebrate momijigari.

at least that’s what you had told yourself before, what was meant to be a two hour drive, turned into over three hours spent in a car with the oversized toddlers know as your best friends.

“i’m hungry~!” whined toddler number one from behind you.

mattsun outstretched his long arms, reaching around the passenger seat you sat in, in an attempt to steal more of your snacks. you had made sure everyone knew to bring their own food and water, double- no, triple checked everyone was on the same page. but of course it was no surprise that mattsun was the only one to turn up empty handed. so when his grabby hands slapped against your cheeks for the nth time, you angled your face and snapped your jaw right on his thumb.

mattsun shrieks, jolting back away from you. “fucking hell, y/n!”

twisting around in your seat, you smirk, watching as he checked over the distinct bite mark on his red thumb.

“ha, serves you right.” pipes the figure slouched next to mattsun in the back seat. “ugh i need to take a leak.”

the peach-haired, number two toddler was none other than makki. he’d woken up cranky that morning, and it only seemed to worsen when he’d been shoved into the back with the chatty mattsun. within the first ten minutes he had tried to suffocate the latter with his pillow, and when that didn’t work, he took to blasting music in his headphones and facing himself towards the window for majority of the ride. only engaging with everyone when you began snacking, and he had decided to drink all of his juice just to spite mattsun.

“oi, iwa! control your gremlin!”

“shut up.”

“no, you shut up! you didn’t even want to share your juice with me!”

“i will literally piss on you right now.”

losing interest in the bickering duo behind you, your attention diverted to the third, brooding toddler beside you in the driver’s seat. you had spent majority of the drive admiring the way iwa handled himself behind the wheel; the flex of his arms under the fitted cotton of his blue long sleeve as he turned the wheel, and how the pads of his long fingers would tap against the worn leather to the beat of whatever tune began playing on shuffle. yet out of everything, it was when iwa took to mumbling the lyrics of whichever cheesy love song you were belting out to, that you found yourself falling even deeper into the pit of your affections for him.

throughout the drive, iwa had mostly managed to ignore the others’ antics - with your intervention of course. but with how tight his grip on the steering wheel had become from the squabbling in the backseat, and the dark look brewing under his cap; it was clear how close he was to losing his cool.

extending your arm out in front of him, you offer the hershey bar in your hand, brushing it against the pout of his bottom lip. iwa’s olive eyes glance questioningly at you from the side, to which you only offer a small grin.

“take a bite.” you order. the, ‘you look like you need it,’ is silent, but obvious in the way you prod the treat at his closed mouth.

“mmph-”

his eyes returned to the road before him as he parted his lips, pink tongue making a brief appearance before he took a small bite of your chocolate. you attempt to retract your arm, until iwa moves one hand to grab your wrist; bringing you back to him to take a bigger bite of the sweet, thumb rubbing against the inner side of your palm.

the corner of his mouth tugs upwards, as he mumbles a small, “thank you.”

heat floods your cheeks, and you catch yourself before you drop the chocolate on his lap. distracted by the deafening beat of your heart pounding in your ears, you don’t notice the silence that fills the car, or the not-so subtle click of mattsun snapping a photo of the two of you in the front and sending it to the group chat. you’re pulled out of your slight trance, by a flash of peach entering your field of view.

“that was disgusting...ly sweet. and now i suddenly need to puke, so hurry it up would you.”

as makki leans back, mattsun is quick to replace him, popping his head between you and iwa.

“don’t just ignore me, y/n, feed me chocolate too!”

rolling your eyes, you shove the bar in his mouth; the rest of you three laugh as he falls back into his seat, all the while he happily munches on the treat.

a little time passes before iwa’s flicking his indicator, signalling his turn into the free parking space outside the nature reserve. he shifts the gear into park before everyone piles out - makki walking over to wrap his thick, fossil grey scarf around your neck, the cashmere soft against your skin; while mattsun offers to carry your little backpack, only sending you a sly smile when you question his reasoning for taking the bag from you. you hug iwa’s offered arm to your chest, as the four of you start trekking along the uneven pathways leading towards lake kawaguchi. the walk isn’t necessarily long, but none of you are in a rush - strolling leisurely and enjoying the atmosphere.

and when you finally reach the end of your walk, you still yourself, awestruck by the beauty surrounding you. the glassy lake shimmering under the afternoon rays, crisp maple leaves painted red, swaying to the breezy flow of the cool wind, and the tinkling laughter from young children running about on the golden fields - filled your chest with warmth.

“it’s so beautiful here.”

your voice comes out as a whisper for only iwa’s ears to hear; with makki off to relieve himself and mattsun trailing after him, acting as if you didn’t see him rummaging through your snacks. iwa only hums in agreement, missing the way he hasn’t even acknowledged the view, his gaze set solely on you.

this is what the tradition of momijigari meant; taking time away from your busy schedule to spend a moment to enjoy this small piece of life. and of course, capturing the moment with some of your favourite people on camera. so when you busied yourself with taking photos with the towering men, it really shouldn’t have surprised you when your phone began to buzz with an incoming facetime call.

sliding your thumb across the screen to answer the call, you’re greeted by the sight of oikawa’s toothy grin; illuminated by a bright light you knew had to be artificial, since it was nearing two a.m. in argentina.

“yahoo, y/n-chan! you didn’t think i’d miss out on a photoshoot did you? i already missed out on you feeding me chocolate!” you shoot an embarrassed glanced at iwa, noticing the slight furrow between his brows and the faint dust of pink across his cheeks.

“photoshoot…?” a confused makki mumbles behind you.

mattsun leans over your shoulder, shoving his face in the camera. “oi, isn’t it late for you?”

you raise a single shaped brow as oikawa scoffs, brushing his fingers through his perfectly styled hair. “the pretty face of this group has finally blessed you, and that’s all you have to say?” mattsun scrunches his face in offence, as oikawa continues. “besides, i may be in a different country but i refuse to miss out!”

and it was because of his soft pout that you found yourself posing with your phone by your face, making sure to catch oikawa’s best angles; having long given up on questioning the setter and his antics. the so-called photoshoot came to an abrupt end later on when a tired and cranky oikawa yawned, apparently ruining another photo according to him, and iwa’s finger just so happened to slip and disconnect the video call.

“he’s stubborn.” was all he had said when you, makki and mattsun side eyed him. “we should head back home before it gets late.”

the drive back to tokyo seemed relatively faster than the journey to fujikawaguchiko. it was as if your body went into autopilot as you sat behind the wheel, this time taking responsibility as the driver while the boys napped; only coming to when you were parking iwa’s truck into their apartment’s parking lot, moments after the sun had set.

it was a silent and unanimous decision to order take out for dinner, the four of you seated around the black walnut dining table to dig in. meal times with the boys were hectic, and competitive for the most part - it was survival of the fittest. you were often being challenged by mattsun - tonight having lost the last few gyoza to him.

though it became obvious who the real loser was when mattsun flopped his head onto your lap, while you were lounging out on the settee.

“y/n~” mattsun drawled out. “rub my belly, it hurts!”

“no.”

“please, y/n~! my one and only best friend, the moon to my stars, the curry to my rice-”

he releases a satisfied sigh once you reach a hand out to press your palm against his stomach, rubbing soothing circles to stop his whining; and you catch makki roll his beady eyes at the two of you, as he flicks through suggested films to watch on netflix. iwa strolls into the living room, pillows and a comforter stacked in his arms; laying them neatly on the couch he shares with you on movie nights.

“oh, iwa, could you send me the photos please?” he nods his head once, barely glancing over at you and mattsun; pulling out his phone and dropping himself unceremoniously across the adjacent sofa. “thank you.” you call out once your phone pings with several notifications.

still rubbing mattsun’s stomach, your free hand casually scrolls through the pictures from today.

you snicker to yourself at the first series of chaotic images. a selfie with smushed faces pressed together and a phone-sized oikawa tucked right under your jaw, a blurry pic of the boys throwing vermillion leaves at each other, and even a timed snapshot where you, mattsun and makki had leapt on iwa’s back - your legs wrapped around his torso, while makki squished you from behind, and mattsun had flopped himself on top of the pile. there was even a shot of the aftermath, your phone and oikawa somehow surviving the tumble, and a deadpanned iwa staring straight at the camera as the three of you behind him cackled with your heads thrown back.

at least a few wholesome pictures had been captured. a sweet group photo with all of you huddled by each other in front of a vibrant maple tree; you and iwa were flanked by mattsun and makki respectively, as oikawa was held between you and iwa like a prized trophy. even a rare moment where makki and mattsun had their arms hooked around each other, with easy going grins on both of their faces, had been caught.

butterflies erupted in your tummy, fluttering about once you swiped to the next photo. it was a candid shot of you and iwa standing by the brilliant blue lake front. you were leaning into his side, holding two leaves at the top of your head to mimic cat ears, face tilted upwards. giggling, your eyes were shut, and only now can you see that you missed the soft smile iwa donned looking down at you.

it was almost painful to admit that together you looked like a couple, and it didn’t help that most times you even acted as such. sneaking a glance at the man in question, you watch him chatting quietly to makki, gripping your phone tightly in your grasp at the sound of him laughing at whatever snide comment escaped your peach-haired friend. you couldn’t help but sigh, being in love with one of your best friends only got harder each day.

unknowingly you had already swiped to the last photo iwa had sent, so when you return your gaze the screen, you shriek; dropping your phone flat on mattsun’s face.

“um, what the fuck, ow.”

iwa’s sharp eyes shoot towards you instantly. “what’s wrong?”

you only shake your head, warmth filling your cheeks and an itch you just can’t scratch prickling under your skin. makki only shrugs, shifting his attention back to the television. iwa is more hesitant, the feeling of his olive eyes giving you a once over does nothing to calm your nerves from being sent into overdrive. when he finally turns away, you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“ugh, what even had you going even more crazy than usual all of a sudden?” mattsun groans from your lap. as he reaches to lift your phone off of his face, you’re quick to snatch the device away.

“n-nothing!” he only raises a thick brow at your defensive tone, before grabbing your hand to continue your ministrations.

glancing around the room, you pull the screen close to your face; taking in the photo, you felt your mouth run dry.

there was no way this could have been sent to you on purpose - because the sight of a shirtless iwa at his second home, the gym, was definitely not taken at lake kawaguchi. anyone with eyes could tell how ripped iwa was under his fitted shirts. but over the past few months you had noticed that he’d run off to the gym more often; and it was obvious in the way his clothes struggled to stretch over his bulked up build these days.

it was a mid work out, mirror selfie; iwa’s dark, mocha coloured hair plastered to his forehead, bare chest glistening from the sweat dripping down from his neck. he was seated on the rubber floor, one long, tanned leg stretched out in front of him with the other bent at the knee, elbow resting loosely against his leg. your eyes greedily took in the defined dips of his toned stomach, dark snail trail leading downwards to the evident bulge of his grey shorts; the hem cutting into the flexed muscles of his thighs.

the heat pooling between your thighs as your imagination ran wild was just about to peak when-

“oi, y/n.” you almost jump, locking your screen, and blinking away the dazed look in your eyes. when your vision cleared, you found makki standing in front of you. “we’re gonna watch the movie now.”

“oh, right.”

mattsun rolls off your lap with a groan, complaining to makki about who is gonna rub his belly now, while you stand up. shuffling over to iwa, he stretches before shifting and making room for you to squeeze in next to him.

“c’mere.” he mumbles, throwing his arm around you and pulling you into his side.

the beat of your pounding heart is almost deafening in your ears, you’re near to hyperventilating, as your mind is sent into overdrive. the two of you were always cuddling platonically during movies, ever since the one time you had complained about being cold in their apartment. but this time was different. ‘is this how he felt when you had sent a picture of your new lingerie?’ you think to yourself. you spend the next hour deep in your thoughts, completely lost to whatever is happening in the sci-fi film makki had chosen, and when the end credits start rolling on the screen - iwa announces he’ll drop you off back to your dorm.

it’s close to midnight; so makki wishes you a goodnight, as a sleepy mattsun rests against his shoulder, making grabby hands for you not to go. you wave as you leave, following after iwa who opens the passenger side door of his truck, helping you jump up into the seat, before closing the door and making his way to the driver’s side.

your dorm isn’t too far from their apartment complex, so you’re not surprised at how quick the ride is. the street is unusually busy, yet completely void of any roaming students. and with no private parking for students, iwa’s forced to pull up near a secluded cluster of tall trees, a bit away from the dorm entrance.

“i’ll walk you in.” iwa says, leaving no room for argument. he reaches for his phone, as a message flashes across his screen. “oh, oikawa asked why you’ve been ignoring his messages.”

“huh?” you flip your own phone in your hand, watching as the facial recognition unlocks and suddenly iwa’s gym selfie is on full display for the both of you. it takes a moment for you to process the situation, and all you can manage is a simple, “oh,” as you resist the urge to fling your phone out of the window.

“nice photo.” iwa pipes up, you don’t even try to look at him, but the smirk in his tone is evident. “where’d you get it?”

his question throws you off, and you’re quick to turn your head to narrow your eyes at him. “what do you mean? iwa, you literally sent it to me?!”

“really? shit i must have done it by accident.”

“an accident?”

“yeah, like what you did to me. remember?”

you gasp, moving back almost as if you’ve been struck, while iwa simply laughs at your expression. a full on belly laugh that has him throwing his head back, illuminated by the glow emitting through his open moon roof. you should’ve been dwelling in the embarrassment that came with him turning your own words back on you - yet you found your own laughter mixing in with his. only when both of you had calmed down a bit, did an electrified silence fill the car.

fiddling with your phone in your lap, the strands of hair curtaining the sides of your face, is brushed aside and tucked behind the cuff of your ear. glancing at iwa, the corner of his mouth is pulled up into a fond smile as his thumb caresses the shell of your ear.

“sorry for teasing you, pretty lady. couldn’t help myself after you sent me that picture looking all pretty in pink.”

“i…” words escape you as his large hand trails down the side of your cheek. you’re suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to do something - it’s almost at the tip of your tongue, before you grab at his wrist and whisper a, “fuck it.”

leaning over the middle, you reach a hand to hold the back of his head as your lips press against his own. lips even softer than they appeared, the lingering taste of his wild cherry lip balm, the same one you owned, tasted sweeter than you remembered. after a moment, of the kiss not being reciprocated, you pull back.

“just had to do it once.” you murmur, lips still tingling.

iwa’s minty breath fans across your face as he releases an airy sigh. “then let’s do it a second time.”

this time his hand wraps loosely around your neck, pulling you towards him, and slanting his mouth over yours. you moan into the kiss as his tongue darts out to tease your lower lip. leaning into him, you almost keel forward as this time he pulls away. slightly breathless, you open your eyes to take in the barely restrained lust and adoration in his handsome features, mimicking you’re own.

“third time’s a charm, right?”

the devilish grin iwa gives you in response to your innocently posed question, has you climbing over the centre console. at the same time he’s rolling the chair back away from the leather steering wheel, making space for you to slide onto his lap and straddle him. molding your lips to his, the feeling of your tongue exploring his mouth and you grinding into him slowly; has him release a hiss as his hands grab at the fullness of your ass.

tugging at his collar, your words are muffled against his mouth. “take this off, now.”

he chuckles at your demand, pulling the hem of his shirt past the bulk of his shoulders and over his head - blindly throwing it to the backseat. you drag your eyes over the sight of his broad chest, taking in every delicious dip of his stomach; leaning forward, your tongue licks a tentative stripe along his neck, that has iwa’s breath hitch before peppering wet kisses along his skin. your hands roam around his toned body, while his own larger ones slide under your top; a searing hot trail following his exploration of your body. he draws small circles at your hips, leading up to hold your waist and bring your even closer against him.

“your turn, baby.” he whispers to you, fisting the bottom half of your top. “be fair to me, i wanna see more of you.”

sitting up straight in his lap, you slip the thin top over your head; following his suit in flinging it to the backseat. your hair brushed past your bare shoulders, exposed skin feeling the chill of the autumn night; but the look in iwa’s olive eyes, irradiated by the moonlight streaming in from the uncovered moonroof, was scorching hot. rough palms, flat against your smooth skin, slid over your tummy, teasing the sheer mesh of your bra, before playing with the baby blue ribbons on the straps.

“y/n.” iwa groans out, tracing the floral stitching and feeling the hardened nubs of your nipples under the fabric. with the moon haloing behind you, the way he stares up at you is so raw and intense, it has you frozen in anticipation. “you look so fucking beautiful in blue.”

he doesn’t wait for your response as he reaches behind you to unhook your bra, freeing your breasts from its confines. iwa’s quick to take a pebbled nub into his hot mouth, suckling as his fingers tweak the other. your fingers thread through his dark locks, when he moves and switches his focus; a lewd string of saliva dragging from your nipple to his pink tongue. stuttered grinding from his mouth distracting you, had you reaching a hand between each other to palm his erection - wanting to ease some of the tension. but iwa’s quick to snatch your hand away.

“iwa...let me touch you?”

releasing you from his mouth, he kisses the pout from your lips. “no, baby, don’t worry about me.”

“why not?” you whine.

“i wanna make you feel real good, gotta prep you for me first. is that okay with you, baby?” he only smiles softly as you start to relax against him. “i need to know if you’re okay with this. care about you so much, i just want you to be comfortable. let me know if you wanna stop right now.”

“no, h-haji...please, i don’t want to stop. i want you so bad. i need you, ah-”

your consent was all he needed before he pulls you back into him, kissing you so slow you feel dizzy; his hands travel low on your body, working the button of your jeans, as your fingers dig into his shoulders. when he breaks away from you, he helps you slip out of the dark denim, tugging each pant leg off until all you wearing is the stringy, baby blue panties that leaves little to the imagination.

“fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me.” iwa groans out, rubbing a hand across his face as you giggle lightly. while you hover over him, he quickly strips off his pants, kicking them off onto the floor before grabbing onto your hips. “flip around on me, baby. that’s right, face the front.”

settling down onto his lap, the thin cotton of his briefs does nothing to hide the print of his hard-on he’s sporting underneath. and with your back pressed to his warm chest, you roll your hips teasingly into him.

“come on, haji...let me help you.” you huff, continuing to grind against him.

“oi, cut it out.”

his grip on your hips tighten in warning, and you gasp as he manhandles you easily. shifting you around so that the heel of your left foot digs into his thigh, the other secured at the edge of the leather wheel; he has your legs wide open. before you can even think about any stragglers catching you so vulnerable; iwa hooks his arm under your thigh, pads of his fingers brushing over your clothed pussy.

“haaaa~” you breathe out, hips jerking into his touch.

“fuck baby, your panties are soaked.” he continues to tease you over the drenched crotch of your panties. iwa rubs lazy circles, casually sliding under the material to play with your silk folds. his touches have you yearning for more, as you feel yourself slowly going insane as he starts to coat his fingers in your slick.

“mmm...touch me, haji...properly.”

wriggling around in his embrace, you keen once he pulls his hand away from you; holding his fingers before you, showing off how they glisten so prettily in under the moon. and then you watch over your shoulder as he leads his hand to his mouth, and licks his fingers clean.

“you taste so fucking sweet.” he’s quick to bring his fingers back to your drooling pussy, coating his fingers once again, but this time bringing them to your own lips. “here, have a taste for yourself.”

opening your mouth, iwa wastes no time pressing his long digits flat against your tongue. sucking on his fingers, you savour the saccharine essence of your pussy; moaning at your own flavour sending your tastebuds into overdrive. iwa hums, heated gaze taking in the way you take his fingers in your mouth; he slowly pulls them back out with a pop - smiling softly at the way you stare at him, all wide-eyed and wanton.

“should we get you out of these messy panties now, baby?”

at your eager nods, iwa presses a kiss to your shoulder as he has you lift your hips up; slipping your soaked panties off, and placing them on the passenger seat side the two of you. sitting you back down against him, he hooks both arms around the undersides of your thighs, grabbing at your soft flesh and spreading you wide open for him. you whimper when a big hand cups your sex, rough palm brushing against your throbbing clit.

“shh.” iwa coos, entranced with how you’re rolling your hips to grind against his hand. “i got you.”

he presses his thumb against your clit, circling the sensitive bud peaking past your puffy lips; as his middle finger teases your slit. slowly he pushes his finger inside you, a heavy, relieved moan escapes your throat, as he easily slides in and out of you. through heavy lidded eyes you watch as fog clouds the windows of iwa’s truck, the glass steamy; while perspiration collects between your bodies. you’re brought back to focus on iwa, when he teases a second finger against your slit, dipping inside you and stretching you out even more. hissing, you clench around him; the lewd squelches as he fucks you with his thick fingers, has you digging your heels into his thigh and the steering wheel.

the way iwa’s fingers reaches deeper inside than you could ever on your own, and the added stimulation to your clit, has the tightening coil in your belly snap as you cum all over his hand.

“oh baby, feels good doesn’t it?”

“yeshhh...h-haji, mmph-”

he doesn’t stop pumping you with his fingers, letting you ride out your orgasm to the end. even when you feel the high descend, twitching at the slight overstim, you expect him to stop. but all he does is bury his face in the crook between your shoulder and neck, dragging his teeth across the sensitive skin as the hand not occupied with your pussy, fondles your ass. you lean into him, mewling at his touches when your breath hitches at a new sensation.

“haji, no! it’s dirty!”

the hand at your ass had moved to pet at your puckered hole - completely drenched in your cum, he was sure he could slide a single finger in with ease. and he was right. the feeling of your tight hole being prodded, stretched by the tip of his forefinger, before sucking the entire digit inside - had you throwing your head back in pleasure.

“f-ah-uck! oh shit, nghhh!”

“you gonna cum again for me, baby?”

the feeling of both your ass and pussy being stuffed full of iwa’s fingers is overwhelming. you’re a panting and moaning mess, writhing on top of him. and when the back of your head is thrown back into iwa’s shoulder, all you can see is hazy stars in the sky as you stare up, completely intoxicated by the feeling of his fingers moving inside you - brushing against the thin barrier of skin between your two holes. the familiar pressure in your tummy has you bucking your hips and crying out.

“you’re squeezing my fingers so tight.” he maintains the same steady pace, fucking his fingers into you nice and deep, while working your sensitive clit. its only a few seconds later he hits a particular spot that has you jolting forward, crying out at your sudden release. “shit, that’s right, i can feel you cumming all over my hands again, baby.”

you can barely think straight as your body trembles from the aftershocks of your second orgasm. still in a daze, iwa eases his fingers out of your twitching holes, and you groan at the empty feeling.

“you okay?” iwa asks, wrapping his arm around your waist. you nod, chest heaving as you attempt to steady your breathing. “you think you can cum one more time from my fingers-”

“no!” you grab at his wrists when he moves to play with you again. “i need you inside me, haji. please.”

whatever calm iwa had possessed while pleasuring you had vanished at your words. sticky hands lifted you up by your waist, turning you around to straddle him - while he slightly lowered the back of his seat. lip locked, your hands find themselves wrapped around the nape of his neck, while iwa’s hands grab at your body - stilling your wriggling form as he grinds up into you.

without breaking the kiss, you reach down and ease your fingers under the elastic waistband of his briefs; hand brushing against the tip of iwa’s cock. that earns you a muffled groan as he allows you to hover over him and slide the boxer briefs down his muscled thighs. your mouth salivates at the sight of his cock slapping against his toned stomach. he was easily the biggest you’d ever seen, with a thick vein on the underside, and a red, angry tip leaking pre-cum.

“fuck, you’re so big haji.”

he hisses when your hand touches him, you can barely wrap your fingers around him; and you start to question if he could even fit inside you. iwa notices the slight hesitation in your movements.

“we don’t have to.” he reassures, brushing the hair out of your lust filled eyes. “i can play with you some more, or i can eat you out in the back seat-”

“-haji.” you cut him off, stroke him before lining him at your dripping entrance, grinding the leaking tip across your slit. “i’ve wanted this for so long.” lowering yourself, you gasp at the delicious stretch of his tip entering you. “i’ve wanted you for so long. don’t hold back, give me everything.” and with that, you completely impale yourself on his cock.

“fuck, y/n, i can feel you clamping down on me- shit baby, you gotta move.”

lifting one leg at a time, you shift around off of your knees, steadying yourself on your tip toes; before grabbing onto iwa’s shoulders and starting to slowly ride him. his hands roam across your body freely, loving squeezes trailed in their path, as praise after praise is whispered out to you.

“you take my cock so well, fuck.”

your fingers dig into his shoulder blades as you quicken your pace. bouncing yourself faster on his fat cock, iwa’s attention is drawn to to the way your breasts move in front of him; massaging the soft flesh, and then leaning forward to smush his face between them.

“could stay right here forever.” his muffled voice croons.

you whimper at the feeling of his hot tongue dragging a wet trail down the valley between your breasts, and you’re certain plum love bites will have bloomed across your chest by sunrise. your arms shoot up to press against the foggy glass of the moon roof above you, palms pressed flat against the steamy window, handprints painted on the transparent screen - as you bounce harder and faster. the lewd sound of your ass slapping against his thighs and of your pussy sucking him in with each stroke; shows how desperate you are to cum again.

“you’ll cum on my cock, won’t you baby? i can feel how close you are, shit, you’re so close aren’t you?”

the way you ride him gradually becomes sloppier the closer you are to cumming, so when he holds your waist and helps you bounce on him, you cry out in relief.

“f-fuck, feels s’g-good, haji! nghh, yes, yes, yes-!”

only as he reaches a hand down to roll your sensitive clit between his index and thumb, do you fall apart on his cock. your velvety walls spasm around him as he continues to fuck you through your high in chase of his own, overstimming you even more as you cream all over him, tongue lolling out. the sheer intensity of your orgasm has you collapsing forward onto his heaving chest, a babbling mess, while he holds you to him.

“you made such a mess on me, baby.” he huffs out.

“h-haji.” you whimper into his neck, arms looped around his. “s’too sensitive, haaa~”

your knees are by his hips, the tops of your feet pressed against his inner thighs, as he rolls his hips into you. large hands slide down your spine, over the curve of your ass to knead the smooth flesh in his palms.

“just hold on to me baby. you got one last one for me, don’t you?” all you can do is nod, releasing an onslaught of mewls and moans. “that’s a good girl, fuck.”

iwa is relentless in pursuit of his own orgasm - fucking into you at a punishing pace that has your mouth jar open in a silent cry, his truck jolting with each snap of his hips. your juices completely drench his cock, allowing him to slide in and out of you with ease, and you’re sure by now your pussy has been shaped out by the imprint of his cock. you can feel him throbbing inside of you, close to his climax; while his fingers dig into your ass shoving you down on his cock, and hitting your sweet spot over and over that you can’t help but gush all over him yet again.

“h-ah-ji, hnghh!” you sob, your body spent and thighs slick with your cum.

iwa only lasts a little longer with the way you were clenching down on him; pulling out of your fucked out pussy, and setting you on his thighs. he fists his cock in his hand, jerking himself a few times before thick, white cum spurts out - coating his entire hand and painting his stomach.

“mmm baby, that was fucking amazing.” he growls out, leaning back into the seat to catch his breath. “d’you feel okay?”

you only hum, entranced by how much cum he spilled. or wasted, you thought to yourself.

“can you reach over to the back and grab the towel in my gym bag, gotta clean us up…” your lack of focus has iwa trailing off. “y/n?”

“we don’t need the towel.”

reaching for the hand covered in his seed, you bring it to your mouth. iwa tries to question what you meant by that, though he’s cut off when you lick a tentative strip across his palm. gathering his cum on your tongue, you swirl his essence around in your mouth, before swallowing. you make a show of taking each finger in your mouth, sucking his cum clean. once his hand is licked clean, you slide down his lap; ready to do the same over his abs.

“you’re so good to me, y/n.” iwa runs his fingers through your hair, and then pats your head. “y/n?” he calls out again, still petting your head just as your about to trace the dips of his stomach with your tongue.

“hmm?”

“y/n? y/n?”

you move back away from him. “what?”

“y/n? oi, y/n? wake up!”

iwa watches as you jolt up from where you had fallen asleep on his lap. makki, who had been hovering over you, moves away as you try to swat at him - a confused look on your face.

“huh?”

“you fell asleep.” makki informs her. “you were interrupting the movie. if you’re that tired, just sleep in one of our rooms.”

lazed out on the other couch, mattsun pipes up; “yeah, you were making these ugly noises and then iwa said you licked his hand, what a weirdo.”

he only clears his throat awkwardly, finding a sudden interest in the beige walls of their living room. he misses the horrified expression on your pretty face, scrunched up in utter embarrassment, before you turn to start arguing with mattsun.

iwa was grateful for the pillow resting over lap, hiding the evident hard-on he was sporting. he wanted to argue with mattsun too, because the sounds you made were definitely far from ugly.

#haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu smut #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru #matsukawa issei #hanamaki takahiro #haikyuu fluff

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piezein · 3 years

Text

They Should Be Dead: A Collection of Works by The Living

Early on during the quarantine, I suddenly had more time to indulge in media. After a few months, I’ve notice a pattern, so here it is: a list of shows and stories that all have living dead people.

TV Shows

Ghosts (BBC) - The series follows a collection of ghosts from different historical periods haunting a country house while sharing the house with its new living occupants. This is a great show with well written plots, characters, and stories. I find it appeals especially to the queer and neurodivergent community.

What We Do In The Shadows - The series follows 4 vampires in a mockumentary format. If you like those shows where fiction meets real historical events, or just plain vampire humor, this is for you.

Pushing Daisies - The series follows a pie-maker with the ability to bring dead things back to life with his touch, an ability that comes with stipulations. Together with his formerly deceased childhood crush Chuck, private investigator Emerson Cod and co-worker Olive Snook, Ned uses his abilities to solve murder cases. Perfectly pleasing visuals, an interesting premise, and REALLY relatable for all of under quarantine. Lots of yearning.

Dead Like Me - George dies early in the pilot episode and becomes one of the "undead", a "grim reaper". The show explores the experiences of a small team of such reapers, as well as the changes in George and her family as they deal with George's death. I’m not sure if the show employs edgy humor but I like it. It is slightly nihilistic in tone but the way it connects the experiences of life with the reality of death is a really interesting take. It’s perfect for teens and young adults. Also, Mandy Patinkin.

The Good Place - Eleanor Shellstrop, a woman welcomed after her death to "the Good Place", a highly selective Heaven-like utopia designed and run by afterlife "architect" Michael as a reward for her righteous life. This series has everything: dreamlike scenes, nightmarelike scenes, philosophy, EAT THE RICH, genderless she/her icon Janet, good characters, accurate representations, and an all-around touching story.

Santa Clarita Diet - The series centers on husband and wife real estate team Joel and Sheila Hammond whose normal, boring lives change dramatically when Sheila shows symptoms of having become a zombie. The bewildered family seek a cure for her condition while dealing with its consequences. Wild family goes on the time of their lives because their mom has become a zombie. It’s great. They kill n*zis and a cop and eat them.

Star Trek - too many Star Trek episodes have the “oh no they died! anyway...” premise and aside from the idealistic paradise Gene Roddenberry pictured, death and resurrection are large themes in Star Trek.

Books/Graphic Novels/Short Stories

The Carpet Merchant of Konstantiniyya (by @reimenaashelyee) - A two-volume Eisner-nominated graphic novel set in 17th century Istanbul and 18th century England, about a carpet merchant's reconcilitation with faith, love and home in the aftermath of his death by a vampire. It’s a great story. I’ll be telling this to everyone who will listen: the graphic novel is engaging and insightful, life cannot get better than this graphic novel. (Also: ACE REP!) Also by the author is The World in Deeper Inspection which explores the setting and premise of other characters.

The Shadow of The Wind (by Carlos Ruiz Zafón) - Daniel, an antiquarian book dealer's son who mourns the loss of his mother, finds solace in a mysterious book entitled The Shadow of the Wind, by one Julian Carax. But when he sets out to find the author's other works, he makes a shocking discovery: someone has been systematically destroying every copy of every book Carax has written. Magical realism abounds, it’s sinister, it’s beautiful, it’s a perfect book about dancing the line between death and life.

The Graveyard Book (by Neil Gaiman) - Nobody Owens, known to his friends as Bod, is a perfectly normal boy. Well, he would be perfectly normal if he didn't live in a graveyard, being raised and educated by ghosts, with a solitary guardian who belongs to neither the world of the living nor the world of the dead. Great book about growing up and leaving childhood.

The Book Thief (by Markus Zusak) - It is 1939. Nazi Germany. The country is holding its breath. Death has never been busier, and will be busier still. Featuring Death themself as the omniscient narrator, the story intertwines with books and stories of life and of survival. It’s a sobering book but important to read.

May Day Eve (by Nick Joaquin) - Magical realism, time travel vibes. But most importantly, myth, enchantment, the Devil, passion, everlasting love. There’s a reason why this is required reading for Philippine colleges. I cry every time I read it.

Movies

Night at The Museum Trilogy - Night guard in charge of museum. Exhibits come back to life, wacky shenanigans follow. The only downside to this is that they visited the British Museum and not one of the exhibits screamed “I DONT BELONG HERE! TAKE ME BACK!”

The Book Thief - I would say it’s a faithful enough adaptation of the book.

Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan and The Search for Spock

The Lovely Bones - astounding <3 ik she’s dead but letting her breach the curtain between life and death? Good shit.

What We Do In The Shadows - The mockumentary that started it all. Once again Taika Waititi and Jemaine Clement are geniuses. And correct: all vampires know is be bisexual eat hot virgin and fly.

Musicals/Plays

Hadestown- Retelling of Orpheus and Eurydice. Folk type of music, features great talents and songs by Anaïs Mitchell. The story is good, it touches on capitalism, progress, labor, and love.

Indecent- Play exploring the play "God Of Vengeance" which was cited for indecency on Broadway for its themes and indecent acts committed by the actors. It begins as a play brought by several actors who rise from the ashes of the Holocaust and gradually extends to the multiple characters they become. I find this important for anyone interested in queer Jewish history.

I really like media focusing on death and life so recommend some and take some from the list!

ADDITIONAL NOTE: I have a really bad attention span but these stuff somehow get my brain. They're good.

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high-functioning-lokipath · 3 years

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Star Trek - Spock x Reader - Love Story - Words: 1,129

BIG IMPORTANT A/N:

Love Story (1970) is a VERY VERY VERY sad (but very beautiful) movie. I WOULD suggest to watch it but remember...sad...

If you haven't seen it, here's the summary just so you can understand my story:

Preppy College Guy (Oliver) falls in love with Bookish College Girl (Jenny)

She falls in love with him because, WOW! He's not as much a jerk as she thought.

Their parents don't approve, yada yada, you get that part of the story. Mildly cliche, don't care.

They get married, get jobs, get apartment, want kids, and then everything goes downhill. (I'm not gonna spoil too much...you probably will get the idea)

Jenny has this expression "Love means never having to say you're sorry."

Really sweet, moral of the story type thing.

Let's just leave it at there is no happily ever after and also that the movie score (theme song?) is amazing, anyway... enjoy the story 😄😄 And as always, this should be generally series-neutral lol Should work with AOS or TOS 👍👍🤗🤗

You grabbed a bowl of popcorn out of the replicator and sat down on the sofa in yours and Spock's quarters. Spock wouldn't be off his shift for another 2 hours and you decided to watch a sappy old Earth movie called Love Story while he was out. Your shift had been long and stressful and you felt like a good emotional movie to relax. Just as it finished loading up on the screen, the doors opened and Spock walked in.

"You're home early!" You said getting up to greet him. You gave him a quick peck on the cheek which he returned with a soft stroke of his hand to yours.

"The Captain said I looked tired and needed rest. He gave me tomorrow off as well."

"Well that's perfect! Maybe we can finally have that picnic on Observation Deck 6 we've been planning for the past few months. Let me see if it's open tomorrow."

"Yes, that would be nice," Spock said quietly. You looked at him oddly but he didn't make eye contact. "I think I will take a shower before we eat dinner. Is that alright?"

"Of course, Spock!" You replied happily. "I didn't have anything homemade today. Sorry about that," You said. "I was thinking I could make our picnic lunch myself, though. The reservation book says Observation Deck 6 is open tomorrow."

"That would be most pleasant," He said. If you didn't know any better, you'd say his voice sounded sad. But he never let that happen, did he?

"If it's ok with you, love, I'd like to start watching my movie while you're in the shower. It's," you paused, slightly embarrassed. "It's kinda sappy so I don't think you'd like it but-"

"I would not mind viewing it with you, ashayam, if it makes you happy."

"It's a really emotional movie, Spock. I'll probably cry about the ending."

"So it is a sad movie?"

"Yes, I cried last time I watched it."

"And you want to watch it again."

"Yes." One perfectly pointed eyebrow rose up in confusion.

"Then perhaps I should watch it with you in an effort to understand human emotion and behavior better." You chuckled lightly and shook your head.

"Ok, silly, we'll watch it together. Now go take your shower and let me finish making our plans for tomorrow. I'll get our dinner started in the replicators and it'll be ready by the time you come out, hm?"

"Alright," He said. Again, though, as he went to the bedroom, he looked upset.

"Is something on your mind, Spock?"

"Nothing to worry you, Y/N," He replied. You smiled but weren't convinced that he was being entirely truthful. Once he was done showering, you both grabbed your dinner and sat on the sofa together to watch Love Story.

A couple hours later the movie finished and you, of course, were sniffling slightly. As the closing credits began appearing on screen you wiped your eyes and looked up at Spock who had an oddly unreadable expression. "Sorry, I just," You sighed. "I really like that movie but it's so sad. I wish I could rewrite the ending."

"You have said that about many movies," He noted. You nodded. "And have you not attempted to 'fix' them, as you say, with your stories?"

"Yes," You nodded, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "But this story is too beautiful. I could never write a better ending. Happier, yes. But it was so perfect. The musical score for the movie literally won an award the year it was released."

"But couldn't you rewrite the dialogue? Perhaps Oliver's father apologizes sooner and they're able to get treatment for Jenny?"

"Well, first of all, they didn't have treatments in those years, Mr. Spock," You smirked. You found it quite adorable that he was apparently trying his hand at fanfiction. Or at least coming up with headcanons. "Second, the point was that 'love means never having to say you're sorry.' Oliver's father wouldn't have understood that as well had the story not progressed as it did." That sad look passed over Spock's face again. "Spock, what's wrong? You keep getting this sad look. Guilty? Upset? Something! I don't know what it is but please tell me what's wrong," You said. He held his hands in his lap and refused to make eye contact.

"I," He started to say. "What does it mean?"

"What does what mean?" You asked, quite confused.

"Love means never having to say you're sorry."

"Oh, well," You thought about it for a minute. "I guess I would say that when two people really love and care about each other, they find that they don't have to say 'I'm sorry' about every little thing. Sometimes they may not realize they're doing something annoying or sometimes it's just that the other person, while superficially upset, isn't really mad and they can reach an understanding without words. I don't know if any of that made sense, Spock. For Pete's sake, I don't even know if most humans understand it. But it's something we do."

"Many times, when I do something that I've calculated as the most logical course of action, you are upset."

"Well, logical isn't always obvious to us emotional type humans," you smiled. "But I understand eventually. You usually sit down and explain it to me over a cup of tea or a bowl of plomeek soup."

"But I do not apologize for upsetting you."

"Oh, I think I know what's wrong," You said, looking down at your own hands now. "Last week, the mission on Omicron Lira? You put yourself in harm's way, again, and missed our anniversary dinner." He nodded slightly. "Spock, you did apologize. You always do."

"How?"

"I just told you," You smiled, curling back up against his side on the couch. "You explain to me why you did everything, why it was logical, so that I can understand. It's your special way of apologizing to me."

"I see," Spock said thoughtfully. "So you are not upset at me?" He asked, finally looking at you.

"Not at all," You grinned.

"I'm glad." He let a small smile show and grabbed his PADD to find another movie to watch.

"That being said," You added with a smirk. "I still expect an 'I'm sorry' when you wake me up too early, throw away my food before I'm done with it, steal my blanket, steal my hat, take my chocolate," You paused suddenly. "Actually, don't apologize about the chocolate. You get the idea though."

"I believe I understand," He replied, an almost chuckle sneaking into his voice and laughter in his eyes. "In that case, I won't need to apologize for this," He said holding up two chocolate bars he had been hiding.

"Never."

Star Trek TOS/AOS Taglist

@bartv21

@another-crazy-fangirl

@startrekkingaroundasgard

Want to be added to our taglist? Let us know here by commenting on the linked post or just DM us!

MASTERLIST

#star trek tos #star trek aos #star trek #spock x reader #Spock #love story #love story movie

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mimiplaysgames · 3 years

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Terraqua Week Day 5 (Mischief)

Summary: Aqua doesn’t have a crush on Terra. She doesn’t. Okay, she does. Or, Terra accidentally walks in on her in the shower. || Word Count: 3,476

Read on AO3

A/N: @terraquaweek I should mention a tiny little warning that there is a reference to nudity in this fic! It’s not described, so it’s totally T-rated but in case that is something you wanted to know. :) This is the shortest fic in the bunch, something cute and fun. The shower scene was a deleted scene in my Terraquanort fic, but I found that it just didn’t fit with the mood at all haha

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

nah.

Accidents don’t often happen to Aqua.

Ha.

Aqua swings her Keyblade upward. The force juggles golden rings assigned for training, usually tied to a pole for a bounce back. The Master mentioned some interesting techniques the other day in class: style changes, or the ability to enhance your power after a string of emotional attacks deep in the heat of battle, when you’re forced to rely on your heart to pull you out of a tough situation. Terra is sure to be developing new tricks, too.

There’s two months left until the Mark of Mastery. Letting the rings loose is a handicap Aqua places on herself: they’re heavy, resisting her magic to bounce in the air. This way, they should mimic what it’d feel like to fight a powerful enemy. She practices her pirouettes, and her waves of magic attempt to buoy them in the air in a violent tornado, but her spell flounders, a small push by a child in a playground. She adds a waltz step, a flip to give it a good kick, but it’s not enough. The rings crash back onto the grass.

Aqua grunts and goes for the kill—but she twists her ankle at the crevice of a rock, landing on her knee.

“Stars,” she curses, wincing. Her knee is scraped, a hole ripped through her stocking, and her ankle aches. Stars. She casts Heal on her knee to soothe the sting and the gentlest summon of Ice to counter the swelling in her ankle. She tries to stand on it but can’t, so she casts more rounds of Heal and Ice spells until her leg can at least bear her weight.

Aqua limps to the castle through the back entrance, where the communal showers are. Showerheads, each with its own white curtain, are built on one side and sinks on the other in a wide open space. It’s part of a long hallway that connects to one of the gyms and a storage room down a corner. The floor is lilac concrete tile and drains, where it gives way to marble when you enter the castle proper.

There was a time when the castle housed enough students to justify the size of this room, but Aqua is grateful she has direct access instead of having to drag this stupid ankle up a tower to her bedroom.

She shrugs off her sweaty, dirt-ridden clothes and shoes, and throws them in one corner, picking a shower that already houses soap, careful to put all her weight on one foot. The curtain draws around her in a u-shape and she turns the hot water knob, the pipes whistling as the water gushes through.

It gently scalds her at first but Aqua sighs when she gets used to it, rolling her shoulders and lifting her elbow over her head to stretch. The heat is good for the muscles. She presses her fingers near her neck, where it’s tight, and massages, then bends down to cast more Heal and Ice spells onto her ankle. Grime and sand flow down her skin, losing saturation as it curls down the drain under her feet. The soap stings when it runs over her scrape.

She can’t keep making mistakes.

Maybe the waltz step was too much and over-complicated things.

Aqua turns the knob off after rinsing her body and listens to the water drip onto the floor. The repetitive sound is hypnotic. She’ll journal her progress when she gets to her room and make comparisons with entries from the last few weeks.

Hopefully, she’s improving at an acceptable speed despite the injury.

Aqua tests her ankle. She can’t flex it. Stars.

What is she missing when it comes to her technique? Does she need better endurance with her pirouettes? Does she have the time to do it right before the Mark of Mastery?

When she realizes that she needs a towel to dry off—and there’s no towel in sight—she realizes that she’s been standing there wasting the time away. The shower is the greatest and the worst place to think.

Aqua figures she could grab a towel from the storage room nearby without anyone noticing.

She opens the curtain.

Terra is standing right there, eyes as round as oranges with a heavy bag of fertilizer in his arms. He drops it. Aqua shuts the curtain with a screech.

“I’m sorry!” she hears him yell. Through the bottom of the curtain, she sees him scalping for excess that spilled over. Whatever hits the floor is mixing into the water, making mud. He’s barefoot.

“Terra, what the stars—?” she hisses, covering herself despite the curtain (a single piece of thin fabric).

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were in here!”

“How is that possible?”

“Why are you standing here doing nothing?”

“Just—Terra—” She groans loudly.

There is a pause as he walks backwards. “I-I didn’t see anything.”

“Get out of here.”

His footsteps slap across the floor, a subtle splash and the smack against the tile. Aqua peeks through the curtain when it’s quiet. She’s alone with a sequence of mud heading into the castle. Aqua grabs her clothes, slipping the bare minimum on despite its filth, and treks down the hall, purposefully taking opposite directions from his trail.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Their designated table in the library is always littered with books, damaged ones exchanged for the unread when the assignment deems it. There’s an extra stack for Ven since he’s a couple of years behind.

Aqua (carefully) enters the library (ignoring the throbbing—it will heal quickly, she tells herself). She’s cleanly dressed and re-bathed, and takes a seat at the desk while Terra and Ven babble about the nonsense of a textbook they both hate.

Terra gives her a quick, panicked glance before turning away from her and staring hard at the book in front of him.

Ven notices. “Aqua, are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, just a sprain,” she says, suddenly clenched in the throat. What happened in the shower was nothing. No big deal. Sometimes best friends see things. So why is she, too, bordering on panic? Heat builds in her cheeks, so much that it hurts. Aqua tilts her head at an angle so her hair covers her face.

“What’s with you two?” Ven asks and Aqua flinches.

“Nothing, Ven,” Terra says too sternly. He bites his lip and stands too quickly. “A Heal spell isn’t enough for a sprain, what were you thinking?” he asks her without looking at her. He clears his throat loud enough to make Ven recoil, trying his best to hide how shaky his voice has become. “Excuse me,” Terra says before shuffling his feet like he’s holding his pee and disappearing.

When it’s quiet, Ven leans forward to get into Aqua’s personal space. “Okay, I know something’s up. What’s going on?” He squints. “Why is your face all red?”

“N-no reason.” Aqua opens a book. If she digs her entire face into it, it will look like she’s hiding on purpose. She lowers her chin (casually) to pretend she’s reading.

“You’re a liar.”

Aqua slams the book back down. “I do not lie, Ven.”

“Sure, you’re the definition of perfect. But you’re lying to me now.”

Aqua doesn’t know what to do. Her record is spotless. She’s a good student and a good person. She’s only ever told small, harmless white lies, about being tired when she doesn’t feel like it, or saying she isn’t hungry when she is so they don’t catch her sneaking in a brownie. But not this.

“I’m not,” she says in the most unconvincing way.

“Fine, I’ll bug Terra about it—”

“There was,” Aqua says, her voice uneven (damn the stars), “an accident.”

Ven raises a skeptical brow. “And? How bad could that be?”

Aqua huffs and crosses her arms. It’s just Ven. Her other best friend, no judgment here. “Terra surprised me.”

Ven rolls his eyes.

“In the communal shower.”

He points and laughs at her, dropping his head in a fit and slamming a fist onto the surface of the table. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard,” he says in between gasps. “Oh, he must be suffering right now.”

Terra returns, more relaxed, carrying a wooden bowl and bandages. Still, he avoids looking Aqua in the eye.

“So…” Ven says with an obnoxious knowing to his voice and Aqua regrets everything. “Did you enjoy the view?”

Terra stares at her first, his brown skin pale. He glares at Ven with the ferocity of homicide.

Ven bursts into another shake of laughter. “Stars, don’t tell me. You’re blushing so hard.”

At that, Aqua looks away. The thought is embarrassing and a… relief? At the same time?

Terra doesn’t honor Ven with a reply. He trembles, forming a claw with his hand. When he waves it, the bookshelves shake. Several books zoom out and flap, hovering over Ven and hitting him on the head like crows on the attack.

“Wait, stop, how are you doing this?” Ven shields his head with his arms, but Terra is bent on murder. Ven summons his Keyblade and cuts straight through the spine of a book. “Okay, okay, I get it!” The books glide close, ready to torpedo if necessary. Terra refuses to say anything. Ven steps away from the table, on guard. Then he smirks. He sticks his tongue out and bolts out the door. “Maybe that means you guys will finally kiss!” he yells down the hall.

Kiss.

A word as loud as a volcano erupting.

Terra lets go of his magic and all the books drop to the floor, yet the crash is still quieter than Kiss, quieter than how hard her heart is drumming in her chest.

Without a word, Terra picks up the bowl with both of his hands and mumbles a short-lived Fire spell. It’s obvious that she’s to remove her sock and give her ankle to him. That’s the point, a turmeric and olive oil mix, gently heated to reduce inflammation. He doesn’t need to ask.

Aqua lifts her leg to remove her stocking.

Terra flinches and dramatically averts his eyes.

“It’s just a sock, Terra.”

Terra motions to look at her as a response, but stops himself. “You shouldn’t be walking on it,” he bites.

“Call me stubborn.”

“You’re stubborn.”

She fights the impulse to slap him on the back of the head. “Here.” She offers her naked leg to him.

Terra still won’t look at her, but digs two of his fingers into the mix and holds her calf with his other hand. He almost draws back from her skin. Stars, he is blushing. She is too, she can feel it, a boil in both of her cheeks, a flame building in her stomach. His fingers are warm and strong, a caress on her skin. She likes this. She has all the capability to do this herself but she doesn’t want to.

Shit.

Aqua crosses one arm over and brings her hand to her chest—her way of looking dignified as Terra rubs the solution over her ankle. She has been appreciating how broad his shoulders have gotten, how sharp his jawline is, how tall he’s grown. All things that most people would notice, surely. He’s beautiful, he’s always been.

He opens his mouth to say something.

Aqua panics. “If you dare make a comment—”

“You’ll kick me?” Terra lifts her leg higher out of spite and nearly pulls her off the chair. He takes the bandage and starts to wrap.

Aqua stammers. How are they going to get through this?

“It was an accident, Terra.”

He freezes as though he can’t decide if he should finish the job or drop her leg. After a pause, he pitches his voice into a high octave to mimic her (badly). “Oh please, Terra, they’re just breasts. Nothing major.”

“You said—” she squeaks and covers her mouth. She shouldn’t be so naive. The heat in her cheeks bake.

That’s fine. Best friends know lots of intimate things, especially with how long Terra and Aqua have been together. Some of her guts, though, are about to choke her esophagus. She hopes that doesn’t mean she wanted him to see anything. That she’d want him to enjoy it.

Shit.

Terra trembles in nervous laughter, soft and quiet, staring holes into her ankle as he knots the bandage. He’s blinking too much. “You’ll need to compress cold rice on it every now and then,” he says, suddenly serious. “And rest,” he stresses like it’s a curse word.

“Terra?”

He hesitates. “Yeah?”

Footsteps approach them from behind, too graceful to be Ven’s. Terra scrambles to pick up the books, choosing the sliced one first to slip into the bookshelf so the Master doesn’t notice. Aqua straightens herself out and slips on her shoe.

“Would someone mind explaining to me the mess in the communal showers?” the Master asks as he enters, before eyeing the mess in the library. He braces his hips with his fists. “What on earth are two concoting here?”

Her cheeks burn harder.

“Not much, sir,” Terra says, gathering a tall stack of books under his chin. “Pranking Ven. The usual.”

The tone of his voice is too suspicious and the Master knows them too well.

“Aqua,” the Master says, “you sustained an injury.”

All she can come up with is, “Not in the prank, sir.”

“So the mud—?”

“In the shower,” Terra says quickly, without thinking. Overcompensating for the awkwardness. He bites his lip. “I mean, she slipped when she was showering.”

“He only knows because I told him,” Aqua says and she wants to slap herself. Of course that’s how Terra would find out in any normal story. Spelling it out makes it seem like he witnessed it himself. Terra glares her a new one.

Eraqus reads her with skepticism. He folds his hands behind his back and clears his throat. “Terra, you remember the discussion we’ve had some years ago regarding certain curiosities—”

“Yes, Master.” Terra inhales sharply and coughs.

The Master smiles. He looks pleased with himself. “You may continue to clear this up. And if you would please, keep the mischief at a minimum. It would be a great distraction from your work.”

Terra grits his teeth and Aqua lowers her eyes. “Yes, Master,” they both say slowly, like they’re about to step on hot coal.

When the Master leaves, Terra drops books onto the table. He’s finally looking at her, his eyes such a striking depth. It suddenly melts her away. Why so sudden though? He’s always had dark eyes.

Oh. She’s taken him for granted. Now she sees.

“What was that?” he whispers.

Aqua scoffs. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

He shakes his head. “I never want to have that kind of conversation with the Master ever again.”

“At least let me help you,” Aqua says, nodding over to the last gathering of books on the floor.

“I’m not letting you stand on that foot.” He bends over to do the work himself.

“Then I’ll help you clean out the mud.”

Terra puts away the last handful of books, and chuckles to himself. “How do you want to get there? Crutches?”

“No, thank you.”

“Well, I either carry you in my arms or I fling you over my shoulder.”

Aqua needs to find a spell to hide the blushing. It aches. “What an obnoxious suggestion.”

“Then I’ll leave you here in the library.”

“No.”

Terra snorts. “Okay.” He hooks an arm under her knees and lifts the rest of her body like she’s a hollow ragdoll. So close to him, Aqua can feel the grooves of his muscle, his chest durable and broad. She wonders if he enjoys holding her this close, too.

“I am really sorry,” he says as he takes her back towards the showers, passing by the open entrance to that gym, padded for wrestling. It’s not one they use often, since most of their training happens towards the front entrance. “I was on my way to take care of the squash. It was a dumb accident.”

“It’s okay,” Aqua says. She’s resting her head on his shoulder, staring at the way his neck moves when he speaks. Here, they don’t have to look at each other. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Yeah.” He sounds almost disappointed, if not relieved. “Glad we sorted that out, right?”

“Definitely.” She wraps her arms around his neck tighter.

“What were you doing?”

“Pushing myself too hard.” Aqua scoffs.

“Typical Aqua.”

At the way he says that—mock-cocky, snivelish, playful—she blushes. He hasn’t changed since they were little, but it’s a side to him that only she and Ven sees.

There’s a lot to him that he only shows her.

They reach the storage room where the mop and towels would be stored, but he doesn’t enter. “We really need to install a door here,” he says. They reach the communal showers, and he bypasses them too. Terra finally settles her down on the terrace outside.

“Stay here, I’ll be back.”

“No, wait, I’m helping you—”

“Not with that foot, you’re nuts.”

“You can’t stop me from crawling back inside.”

“Then I’ll drag you back out.” He smirks, almost like he’s his old self but not quite. His old self isn’t this adamant. It makes her think that there’s something he isn’t saying, that maybe she’s misreading him, stuck between doing his duty to help her and needing time away from her. That he’s hiding it all behind a joke, and she has to let him go.

“Okay.” She crosses her arms.

“Rest isn’t terrible for you,” he says as he walks away.

Aqua stares at dry dirt. Down this path are the flower and vegetable gardens, contained by a fence. Beyond is the trail that leads right to the spot where she started this ridiculous ordeal. If only she didn’t trip. She’s been training for years. She’s too skilled to be having accidents, too far in her studies to think this hard about her feelings for Terra.

Too far in her studies and too mature to keep denying that she wants him to look at her. She does.

She gets tapped on the head.

“Wait here,” Terra says, heading towards the gardens, barely giving her a glance.

Aqua anchors her elbows onto her thighs and drops her chin into her hands. A sudden thought invades her mind: he’ll come back from whatever chore he has to finish here, take her to her room, and now that everything is said and done, they’ll pretend like none of this has happened.

And that is that. A weird day finished, a blip in history.

Terra comes back into view faster than she anticipated, holding a bouquet of orange and blue flowers in his hand.

Aqua uses the wall to pull herself up, keeping most of her weight on the good foot. “What’s this?”

Terra opens his mouth to speak, and leaves it there. He licks his lips and offers the flowers. “Um…” He scoffs. “I’m bad at this.”

They smell nice. Roses and bluestars. They must be his way to apologize. “They’re beautiful.”

“Um…” He clears his throat, rubbing something raw at the back of his neck. “Would you like to, uh…” He glances at the ground beneath him, summoning the courage to look at her and speak clearly, overusing his hands to demonstrate. “There’s actually a really pretty cave nearby, full of crystals and minerals. It’s spectacular, and I’ve always wanted to take you to see it.” He blushes, swallowing. “Um, when you feel better, would you like to come see it with me? Spend the night, I mean?” He blushes harder, scoffing. “It’s a nice hike and it’s a great camping spot.”

Aqua squeezes the stems of the flowers and her heart hammers too hard to find her voice. “That sounds…” She exhales. “Nice.” She almost asks for permission—from who, she doesn’t know. Terra is asking her. She’s asking herself. “Yes, I’d love to.” She hopes to the stars she’s blushing less than him.

Terra has no answer except for a nervous giggle, his eyes gleaming. He leans forward and kisses her on the cheek, whipping himself back with a hand to his face like he’s committed the worst sin in the world.

It’s warm where he left his lips. Aqua touches it with her fingers.

Embarrassed laughter sputters out of Terra’s mouth with many unnecessary apologies.

Aqua smiles, and it comforts him. “Can you take me back inside?” she asks, that smile twisting her cheeks. It hurts so good.

“Sure,” he breathes. “Anywhere you want.”

They exchange rogue giggles and excited glances as he carries her. They talk as if nothing indeed has happened, where they avoid any mention of mischief to be had in the near future, at least for now. Maybe the stars threw her off balance this morning on purpose. Best friends. They’ve always been.

#terraqua #aqua #terra #ventus #kingdom hearts fanfiction #lmao omg #this cute little one is finally out #i hope you like it!#my fic

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loveforpreserumsteve · 2 years

Text

Moving Forward: "ALN" Story (Pre-Serum Omega!Steve and Alpha!Bucky Modern Domestic AU)

Twelve:

"Hey, pops," Oliver approached him in the kitchen. "Can we... talk?"

Securing the lid on his water bottle, Steve warned, "You better not tell me you're pregnant, Oliver Thomas. I don't think my heart could take that kind of news right now."

"I'm not pregnant," Oliver assured, rolling his eyes. Keeping his voice low though, he cautiously glanced at the living room where Bucky was. "But, uh, that's kinda what I want to talk about..."

Brows furrowing, he asked, "What d'ya mean?"

Glancing to the living room again, Oliver took a step closer to his omega father, "... suppressants. I wanna go on them."

Steve's eyes widened behind his thick lens glasses. Half-concerned that he didn't have his hearing aids up far enough and that he had misheard the seventeen year old. However, with how fidgety the teen was, Steve figured that he had heard him correctly. And while he didn't want to think about his children having sex, he was glad that Oliver felt comfortable enough to come to him.

"I'll make an appointment," Steve assured. A small smile tugging at his lips when Oliver deflated in relief.

"Thank you," Oliver pulled him in for a tight hug. Lingering just a moment. It seemed like all hugs went that way now. Lingering for just a beat longer than they usually did. He wasn't so obtuse to question why. He knew why. Just as he knew that they knew too.

Before Oliver could pull too far away, Steve stopped him and advised, "But you can't completely rely on suppressants. It's best to use –"

"Ew, pops," Oliver's face theatrically scrunched in mock disgust.

Steve teased, "If you can't talk about sex, you shouldn't be having it."

"I can talk about sex," Oliver good-humoredly scoffed, "It's just weird with you."

Fair enough, Steve reasoned. He had never been able to fully open up about it with Sarah. It seemed to be on par with being a teen.

"Thanks again," Oliver smiled, giving Steve's bony bicep an affectionate squeeze.

"Of course, sweetie," Steve assured, "You can always come to me."

Turning, Oliver crossed the living room. As he turned to head back downstairs, Bucky stopped him. Calling, "Hey, squirt? Wanna watch Star Trek with pops and me?"

"Uh," Oliver paused, looking from Steve to Bucky. Claiming, "I would, but I have homework."

"Oh," Bucky rested further into the sofa. As Steve came to sit beside him, the alpha said, "That's alright, bub. Next time?"

"Definitely," Oliver confirmed before sharing a glance with Steve. Possibly hoping that his fathers wouldn't discuss his sex life.

Silently, Steve pressed his lips together and gave him a wink. Oliver sighed in relief and continued downstairs.

Sighing, himself, Bucky wrapped Steve up in his strong flesh and mechanical arms and complained, "We should've had more kids."

"We have enough kids," Steve good-naturedly scoffed, resting his head on his alpha's still-broad chest. The rhythm of his heart comforting Steve.

"But none of them want to hang out and watch Star Trek anymore."

Playfully, Steve poked Bucky's side so he would squirm and teased, "That's because you're a dork."

"Hey," Bucky scoffed, pulling back so they could look at each other as he argued, "The kids used to worship the ground I walked on."

"Yeah, and then they grew up."

Usually, it was Steve who got overly emotional about their kids growing up, but in that moment, Bucky's eyes grew glassy. Neither of them liked how quickly time had flown. One moment, their kids looked at them like superheroes, and in the next they were choosing a fake homework assignment over a TV marathon with them.

"But you still have me," Steve reminded, cozying up to his husband once more. "I've got nothing better to do than to make fun of you."

"Ha fucking ha," Bucky deadpanned, but held the frail omega closer to himself.

While it was bittersweet to have their children so independent, they took comfort knowing that they had each other. Even after everything, they would always have each other. There was nothing on this planet that could tear them apart. The way that all other obstacles failed at their attempt to destroy their bond and their love was enough of a sign to prove that the universe was rooting for them.

Soon enough, a purr softly rumbled out of Bucky, making Steve all loose-limbed. Causing all of his anxieties to float away momentarily, Steve's lids grew heavy, and he stopped resisting. Without meaning to, Steve fell asleep, content to be in his alpha's arms.

I keep forgetting to post what the Barnes kids look like in this fic!

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crobby · 4 years

Text

i’ve got your back

for @broskepol

summary: peter and tony have a phrase they use whenever peter’s in danger and can’t outright say it. they have to use it more often than either would like.

word count: 2767

The bell signaling the end of the school day is a wonderful sound to Peter, who’s been practically dying to go out as Spider-Man since third period. He takes up a brisk walk, trying to make it outside as quickly as possible without full-on sprinting.

“Hey, Peter,” Betty calls out, jogging through the hall to catch up with him.

Peter waits for her, eyeing the clock on the wall. “What’s up?”

“There’s a party at Flash’s house this weekend and he told me I could invite whoever I want, so I’m inviting you. Do you wanna come?”

Peter hesitates. “You know that Flash kind of hates me, right?”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Betty says, flicking her hand.

Peter narrows his eyes. “Penis Parker ring a bell?”

“Okay,” she concedes, “Maybe you’re not his favorite person. But I still think you should come. It’ll be fun! Also, I doubt you’ll even have to talk to him--a ton of people will be there, so you can totally avoid him.”

“I… guess?” Peter rubs the back of his neck. He’s not really sure why Betty’s so insistent that he be there. He thinks it might be her way of trying to become his friend, which he’s definitely okay with. Having friends is nice.

He shrugs. “Why not? I’ll be there. Text me the deets, yeah?”

Betty grins. “For sure! I’ll see you there!” She turns to walk back down the hall, waving at him.

Peter smiles to himself. Huh, he thinks, a party. I got invited to a party. Maybe his social life isn’t so doomed, after all.

---

Nope, his social life is forever doomed. He can’t just be normal and talk to people. It’s like the universe singled him out and said “You! You’re going to be a loser!” and, frankly, he’s tired of it. He wishes Ned or MJ were here, but Ned’s babysitting his baby cousin and MJ’s out of town. If they were here, he wouldn’t be struggling so much.

There’s music blaring and lights flashing and both are too much for his enhanced senses. There’s so much kinetic energy in the room that Peter can almost feel it. It’s hot. He’s schvitzing. He doesn’t like to schvitz.

He’s just about to call it quits and head home when he hears Flash’s voice above everything else.

“Hey, Parker!” Flash comes to stand in front of him.

Peter groans. “What, Flash?”

“Have you ever played a drinking game?”

Peter furrows his brow. “No, of course not. I’m underage.”

“So? That doesn’t stop, like, every other teenager.”

“I don’t know, Flash…”

“Come on! It’ll be fun. This is an olive branch, man. You gonna take it?”

Flash must be tipsy, already, if he’s trying to play nice with Peter. He’s pretty sure Flash is joking about the ‘olive branch’ thing, but still.

“You should loosen up,” Flash says, “Learn to live a little.”

“I--” Peter starts to object. Then, “Alright. I’ll do it. What’s the game?”

“It’s called Fuzzy Duck.”

“Fuzzy Duck?” Peter laughs. “Come on.”

“No, really! I’ll explain it when everyone’s listening.”

Flash leads him back to a corner full of couches. A bunch of people are already there, some Peter recognizes and others he doesn’t.

Flash takes a seat in the middle of the biggest couch, while Peter perches on the arm of another couch next to some people he’s pretty sure are in his trig class.

“Okay, so we’ve got to get in a circle--which, we already are--and I’ll start by saying ‘fuzzy duck’ to the person to my left. It’ll keep going like that, saying ‘fuzzy duck’ to the person to your left, until someone says ‘does he’. Then, the person to the right of that person has to say ‘ducky fuzz’ and then it’ll keep going in that direction--to the right--with people saying ‘ducky fuzz’ until someone says ‘does he’ again. At that point, the direction switches again and people go back to saying ‘fuzzy duck’ until the next time someone says ‘does he’ again. It’ll just go back and forth like that. Anytime anyone messes up whatever they’re supposed to say, they have to drink.”

There are a few vaguely confused nods.

“It’ll make sense when we get into it,” Flash assures them.

He turns to the girl to his left, “Fuzzy duck,” he says, entirely seriously.

She turns to the girl next to her. “Fuzzy duck.”

Eventually--and after many mess-ups and subsequent drinks--they reach Peter, who, in true idiot fashion, blurts: “Duzzy fuck.”

Everyone’s laughter ringing in his ears, he downs a gulp of whatever Flash handed him. He smacks his lips, unused to the bitter taste of alcohol. As the game continues--and Peter drinks more--he feels his throat get warm and his brain go fuzzy. Fuzzy, like the ducks, he thinks.

At least he isn’t such a nervous wreck anymore--he hasn’t felt so relaxed in a long time. He doesn’t even think before saying things, which is wild.

He jumps when Iron Man by Black Sabbath starts blasting out of his back pocket. He scrambles to grab his phone, recognizing the ringtone. More specifically, who it belongs to. Mr. Stark shines up at him, along with a photo he and Tony had taken the day they made his internship official.

Peter brings the phone up to his ear, the noise of the party loud in the background. “Uhh, hey, Mr. St’rk.” Woah, since when are his words so slurred?

Tony doesn’t seem to notice. “Hey kid, I was just calling to see if you wanted to bring the suit by tomorrow. I’ve got something I wanna try out. Happy can pick you up from May’s.”

“That--that’d be great, Mr. St’rk.”

People are starting to look at him, wondering who on Earth he’s calling ‘Mr. Stark’. Peter would very much like to go home now, thanks. Drinking’s not so fun when you have to make normal conversation with your mentor/father figure/it’s complicated guy in front of a crowd.

“Are you good, Pete? It sounds like there’s a lot going on over there. Are you at a party?”

“Pshhhh, no. Are you at a party?”

“Why would I be at a--”

Peter cuts him off. “Have you ever seen Star Wars?”

“You know I have. What’s going on with you, Peter? Is everything alright?”

“D’you remember when the Starfleet came to help the rebels in episode 5?”

“Okay, you’d never mix up Star Wars and Star Trek. That’s it, I’m coming to get you. FRIDAY, what’s his location?”

Peter hears FRIDAY give Tony Flash’s address in the background, extremely grateful that Tony realized something was up. He didn’t want to outright say anything--he’s trying to get these people to like him, not think he’s some kind of weirdo who needs to be picked up early from a high school party.

A few minutes later, Peter receives a text from Tony.

I’m here.

Peter quickly stands up and immediately regrets it when his vision swims. He takes a second to get his head on straight before stepping back from the circle. “Thanks for the party, Flash. I’ve gotta jet,” He gestures towards the door with his thumb before taking off. Well, he staggers towards the door more than anything, still figuring out how to actually do things while under the influence.

Tony’s standing next to one of his Audis when Peter finally makes his way outside, leaning against it with a concerned frown on his face. He stands up straight when he sees Peter, making a beeline towards him and checking him for injuries. Peter lets him, knowing that Tony will calm down if he sees for himself that Peter’s unharmed. Tony nods to himself, seemingly satisfied with Peter’s lack of injuries, before pulling him into a tight hug. Smushed against Tony’s chest, Peter smiles. Peter knows that Tony cares about him, but it’s still nice to get a physical reminder of that fact. Tony pulls back, keeping his hands on Peter’s shoulders.

“What happened?”

“Well, I--”

“You smell like alcohol,” Tony interrupts, “Why do you smell like alcohol?”

Peter shoots him a pair of finger-guns. “That might be all the alcohol I drank.”

Tony sighs. “Let’s get you home, yeah? We can talk about this when you’re sober.”

Peter looks down. “Are you mad?”

“No, I’m not mad. Believe me,” Tony offers him a half-smile, “I get it. But it’s still something we need to talk about. You, me, and May.”

“‘Kay,”

Tony leads him to the car, keeping a hand on his shoulder. Throughout the whole drive back to the apartment, he keeps checking up on Peter through the rear-view mirror. He tries to start some idle conversation but drops it when he realizes that Peter’s too worn out to be all that interested in responding.

They pull up to the curb outside of the apartment building and Tony helps Peter up to his apartment, one arm around his shoulders. He uses his free arm to knock on the door.

May answers. “Tony? What’re you doing here? It’s really late.” In her tired state, she fails to notice Peter until Tony gestures to him. “Aw, hon, what’s wrong?”

Peter slides out from under Tony’s grip to fall into her arms. She immediately grasps him in a hug, mouthing Is he okay? to Tony, who mimes drinking. May nods in understanding, mouthing Thank you.

Tony smiles. “I’m gonna get out of your hair. The kiddo needs a good night’s sleep.”

“G’night, Mr. St’rk,” Peter says, his voice muffled.

Tony looks at him fondly, his eyes soft. “Goodnight, Pete. You, too, May.”

Peter hums before falling asleep on May’s shoulder.

---

Months later, Peter’s briskly walking out of school again. This time, his interruption is a chloroform towel pressed against his mouth, rather than a (un?)friendly invite to a party. He drops like a sack of bricks into the arms of a man, out cold.

---

Peter wakes up in an abandoned warehouse, his arms tied up above his head and his limbs aching. He presses his wrists against their bindings, sure that he could easily break through them if he tried. He can’t, though, because that would reveal his identity--or, at least, the fact that he has super-strength. He’ll do it if he has to--but not until he knows there’s no other option.

He hears two sets of footfalls coming from behind the door across the room.

A man and a woman enter through the door, both wearing a bandana over their nose and mouth. They stop in front of Peter.

The woman crosses her arms. “We want information. You’re going to give it to us.”

Peter stares, eyebrows raised.

“We’re replicating the arc rector,” she says, “We’ve almost got it, but there’s something missing. You intern for Stark. We know you’ll know.” She dives into an explanation of their design and what went wrong. At the end of her speech, she looks at Peter expectantly.

Peter frowns. “I don’t know, actually.”

The woman slaps him across the face. His head jerks at the motion, his cheek stinging.

“This isn’t how I wanted this evening to go,” she says, “You were supposed to tell us everything. You will tell us everything.” She exits the room, returning with a large case.

She places it on a table and opens it to reveal a collection of knives and such.

Peter doesn’t like the way this is going.

She runs her hand over the many knives. “Will you tell us what we want to know, now?”

Peter tries to think of a way for him to get out of here without revealing his identity, but he falls up short. It looks like he might have to kiss his anonymity goodbye.

He’s mentally preparing himself to break his restraints and fight his way out of the warehouse when a phone rings loudly.

The sound is coming from the man’s pocket. He pulls the phone out. Peter recognizes his case. Since when do they have his phone? He guesses they took it when they grabbed him.

“It’s for you,” the man grunts. Peter can’t help but think that he sounds like he gargled cement. “No caller ID.”

The woman tilts her head. “Let him answer.”

The man lodges the phone in between Peter’s raised shoulder and his head before stepping back.

“Hey, Pete, you’re in a weird location. Just calling to check up on you--made sure there was no caller ID, just in case you’re with someone. Is everything alright?”

Peter glances up at his kidnappers, who are glaring at him. He can’t say anything that implies that he’s not alright unless he wants them to hurt him.

“Oh yeah, everything’s fine. I was actually just thinking about.... uh,” he thinks back to the party when he was in a similar situation where he couldn’t say anything outright, “Star Wars. D’you remember when the Starfleet came to help the rebels in, uh, episode 5?”

Tony pauses. “Wait, so you are in trouble?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

Tony’s voice sounds strained. “I’ve got your location. Sit tight, I’m coming to get you.”

Peter tries not to slump over in relief, because that would definitely alert his kidnappers. “That’s good.”

“Yeah, it is.” Peter hears the Iron Man suit power-up in the background.

“Okay, that’s enough,” the woman snatches the phone out of Peter’s hand and ends the call. She drops it just out of Peter’s reach.

Peter purses his lips. As Spider-Man, he’d make a quip and get out of here without Tony’s help. As Peter Parker, though? He can’t bring himself to say or do much of anything. It’s different, being in this situation without the mask. Normally, he’d have it handled in no time. Now, though, everything just feels… different. Off. He feels stuck.

The woman takes a step towards him. “I’m only going to ask you this one more time: what’s the secret? We’ve got it all figured out, except for one part. You know what’s missing--I know you do--so you better tell us before I bring out the big guns.” She gestures to the case.

Those aren’t guns, Peter thinks, those are knives. “I don’t know. I don’t work on arc reactors. I’m an intern, I bring people coffee.”

The woman scoffs. “Stark wouldn’t hire a high school intern unless you were something special. Tell us, or so help me God I will make you.” She picks up a thick knife and brandishes it threateningly.

Peter’s heart rate skyrockets. Then, he hears the sound of repulsors.

Tony smashes through a wall, terrifying Peter’s kidnappers. Peter grins in relief.

“Really guys?” Tony says, his voice robotic through the suit, “You thought you could steal my kid and get away with it?” He flies over to grab Peter, who snaps the restraints like they're rubber bands. Tony picks him up around the armpits. “Have a terrible night,” he says before shooting into the night.

Peter looks up at him. “Mr. Stark, won’t they get away?”

“The police are almost there. They won’t make it out in time. How are you? Any injuries?”

“I’m all good--nothing worse than I get on patrol, anyway. I’m really glad you called, ‘cause I thought I was gonna have to reveal my identity for a second there.”

“I’m glad you’re okay. Where am I bringing you? Home?”

“Yeah, home sounds nice.”

Tony flies him to his apartment building, letting him down gently before retracting the suit. He gestures for Peter to start heading inside.

They make their way up the stairs and knock on the door. May opens it, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

She looks up at them and balks. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Minor kidnapping, nothing too serious,” Tony jokes.

May smacks him on the arm, “That’s not something to laugh about.” She pulls them both into a bone-crushing hug. “Thank you for saving him.”

She pulls back to smack Peter’s arm. “And you! Why didn’t you save yourself? What’s the point of those spider powers if you don’t use them?”

Peter shrugs. “Secret identity.”

May considers it. “Okay, that’s a valid reason.”

She pulls them both into another hug. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

Peter lets himself melt into the embrace, always happy to be with both of his adults. “Can we watch Star Wars?”

May and Tony share a fond look.

“Of course,” she says.

And if the three of them stay up all night binge-watching every Star Wars movie, no one has to know.

#eek i know someone else already wrote this for you but here you go anyway haha #irondad #peter parker #spider-man #spider man #spider man fanfiction #fanfic #mcu fic #mcu #tony stark #iron man #may parker #because we love may parker #prompt #my fic #mcu fanfiction #my writing #mine

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fairytalelover33 · 3 years

Note

Can I please ask for a Star Wars, DC, and marvel ship? I am 5’1, with an athletic build, tanned brown skin, dark brown eyes, and long wavy black hair. I wear black cat eye glasses and a tomboy grunge ish type style. I am straight and an istp with some estp tendencies (esp with my close friends). My pronouns are She/Her. My favorite color is olive/army green, my favorite artists to listen too are Vixen and Alannah Myles. I am generally a really chill person and tend to go with the flow. I am a very sarcastic person and have a witty sense of humor. I’m quite the cunning person as well. I tend to thrive on my own and am very much a lone wolf doing what I want when I want. I am quite blunt and won't sugarcoat my opinions. I find it very hard to trust people and will use sarcasm and humor to cover up any feelings. I usually only open up my true feelings if I’ve been friends with you for ages and trust you. I am a little bit of a rebel. When everyone goes right I’ll find some way to make left work. Going off that I am very good at solving problems in the moment (if they’re not emotional). I suck at feelings and emotions. I’m quite detached in that way. I do however have a VERY soft spot for the underdog and will always help and boost them up. I’ve been told they’re my one weakness to soften me. I’m a digital artist, with a passion for video game design, and visual effects. I adore anything to do with art and technology. I’m also quite the sci-fi geek with a vivid obsession with Doctor Who, Star Trek and Star Wars. I also adore working out, especially kickboxing and weight lifting. Thank you!

I’m sorry this took so long, you sound like a really cool person!

For DC, I ship you with: Arthur Curry! (Aquaman)

•This Man is like your own personal cheerleader

•Like you’ll be standing up to somebody and he’ll be in the corner like “YEAH THATS MY GIRL”

•He loves that you’re interested in tech, and makes you a special suit so that you can come to Atlantis and he can show you their tech

•He loves how you’re kind to those who need it and sarcastic to those who deserve it

•He likes to watch movies and cuddle with you any chance he gets

•He thinks you are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and only wants the best for you!

For Star Wars, I ship you with: Anakin Skywalker! (Before the Dark side)

•You both like to push the boundaries of everything, so you’re a power to be reckoned with when you agree

•He wants to teach you all about the force and everything he does as a Jedi, and would leave the order without hesitation for you

•Obi-wan approves of you both, and supports your relationship

•He grew up tinkering with all sorts of things on Tatooine, so he appreciated that you like tech

•You are the person he goes to when he has an emotional outburst, he needs your chill, steadfast personality to keep him grounded

•since you’re a lot shorter than him I think he would use your head as an armrest a lot

For Marvel, I ship you with: Bucky Barnes!

•He is in a lot of pain after Steve leaves to be be with Peggy, he feels like he’s all alone. Then you show up with your army green clothes and sparkling personality and it feels like everything might be ok after all

•You are his rock, the person he clings to

•However he knows when to give you space

•I think you teach him about art, to give him a place to let go of his emotions and create something beautiful from his pain

•and I think you teach the old man how to use tech (the poor thing was struggling to send an email until you showed him how)

•Your very exsistance helps him to heal, he doesn’t need you to be skilled with emotions, he just needs you

•he introduces you to Shuri, and you two click instantly, she loves how strong of a spirit you have, and Bucky couldn’t be happier that you two get along

Again sorry this took so long, thanks for the request!

#marvel #Bucky Barnes #Arthur curry #DC #Star Wars #Anakin Skywalker #Bucky x reader #ships #Matchups #marvel matchups #Star Wars matchups #DC matchups #anakin x reader

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noxtms · 3 years

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below you will find the recap for everything that took place over the course of the seventh anniversary event & subsequent plot drop, both of which are linked.

there was no reason to panic. these were the empty words offered to those present at the seventh anniversary when headmistress mcgonagall announced that one of the guests, judith strout, had gone missing over the course of the weekend. the healer was nowhere to be found : not at home or at work, not in the hufflepuff guest quarters where her bed was found unmussed & her weekend bag unopened, not at the three broomsticks, where a number of people had headed to take part in madam rosmerta’s pub quiz. concern was understandable, the professors who gathered willing volunteers parroted, but there were a host of plausible explanations. hogwarts can be a maze / grief can mess with your head / anyone can get turned around, after a drink or two. they were going to get to the bottom of it ( and ensure judy was found safe & well ), and the only thing left to do was to send out search parties and find her.

HOGWART’S CASTLE.

all of the professors and a handful of volunteers were assigned hogwarts castle, with the evening spent going from room to room, floor to floor, searching high & low for any sign of judy. though she had last been seen in the crowd leaving the great hall at the end of the feast, her path through the castle on the night of her disappearance was impossible to determine.

a group comprised of antigone xu, josie diggory, sebastian yang & oliver wood began their search on the ground floor, and moved upwards over the course of the evening. it was a slow process for them, and they had only managed to clear two floors, entirely, when they heard an almighty crash up ahead. it was the first of what became a cacophony of crashes coming from the direction they were travelling, and to the worried ear, it sounded a lot like a struggle. with judy as their priority, there was no question about whether they would or would not follow the noise to its source, and wands out, they proceeded with caution.

the group felt a flash of relief when they pushed the door to the armour gallery and discovered that peeves the poltergeist was the culprit. he bounced back & forth giddily, taking aim at suits of armour as he passed and knocking one clean over as they watched, the commotion explained. their relief didn’t get to last for long as he became aware of his audience, and with a gleeful cackle, he launched into a song about getting them all into trouble with filch - destruction continuing as he zipped away towards the trophy room.

they sped after him as fast as they could, the spells that they fired towards him - ones meant to slow him down, or freeze him in place, or banish him entirely - missing by inches every time, his laughter growing more mocking the more damage they helped him cause to trophy cases and tapestrys and photo frames of past quidditch teams. it’s hard to say who managed to hit him with the langlock jinx that stuck his tongue to the roof of his mouth, but he made just as much of a commotion in leaving the trophy room and disappearing into the depths of the castle as he had with full use of his tongue, which was sort of impressive, really.

they knew they couldn’t leave the mess for filch to find ( especially since the poltergeist would quite happily pin the blame on damage caused on them ), and they set about tidying the trophy room & armour gallery as best they could the moment he was out of sight. they repaired the glass cases that had been shattered and righted the suits of armour that peeves had turned over, and it was only when one of them bent to pick up the lid of a golden cup he had knocked from a shelf that they saw the pool of drying red that looked suspiciously like blood.

THE FORBIDDEN FOREST.

few could bring themselves to brave the forbidden forest, even with the distinct feeling that judy’s life could have been hanging on the line. hagrid took lead along with a group of centaurs who agreed to search the farthest reaches, so only a couple groups of volunteers were tasked with heading into the depths, with the groups made intentionally small so as to keep the noise down.

oriana trelawney, michael corner & harry potter were one such trio, unlucky enough to be the group sent closest to aragog’s lair. they’re lucky to have harry in their number - not only does he have firsthand experience with the acromantulas, but he also knows exactly what they’re looking at when....- well.

the group will be forgiven if they didn’t cast glances downwards from tiem to time as they approached the nest, given how much of their focus is in sweeping webs from their path & scanning the horizon for anything on more than two legs. the trail that had been left went unnoticed, but the fallen mound of silver up ahead, dangerously close to the entrance to the lair, certainly does not. anyone familiar with even a textbook picture of unicorns would have known a dead one when they saw it, even at a distance, and the group moved forward to investigate further.

HOGSMEADE VILLAGE.

the most amount of volunteers were directed towards hogsmeade village, and the group comprised of augustine verne, dennis creevey, blaise zabini, hermione granger, nazli demirtas & benjamin malkin began their evening by going door to door, questioning the villagers on whether they had seen the missing judy strout. it was tough going, especially as the doors that wouldn’t open to them led to houses that had to go unsearched, and any of them could have been forgiving for wondering if it was one of those buildings that judy was inside.

everything changed as they began the trek towards the hog’s head. as they watched, the door crashed open, light streaming out across the lane. a single figure clutching an unidentifiable lump hesitated for just a moment as if unsure where to go, now, until they spotted the figures just down the lane and suddenly broke into a run in the opposite direction - the anti apparition spell placed on the town as the search took place making a quick escape impossible. their group large enough to split in two directions, half of them chose to run after the figure while the other half rushed into the hog’s head.

the mystery track star runner might have gotten away, if they had taken a right instead of a left. the open road stretches in one direction, out of town and past the borders of the spell on the town, while the other led only to a dead end - cornering them in & making it impossible for them to escape as the group that followed approached, wands out and ready, stitch in their sides. they fired a spell or two at them in desperation, bins exploding, but the group was unharmed - someone casting a quick leg lock spell & causing the figure to topple in with a yell.

when they approached and tore the cloak that had flown up around his face away, they found mundungus fletcher - the mystery lump a sack from which the galleons from the hog’s head till spilled from, now it had fallen on the ground. they decided to leave him there - spitting swear words after them, as they left - and take the money back to aberforth’s pub, where worse things still awaited.

the group that didn’t follow found an empty pub - from which mundungus had been able to steal without trouble - and an ajar doorway to the stairwell that headed upstairs. aberforth dumbledore was at the school, assisting minerva with the chaos judy’s disappearance was causing - the barman he had left to watch the bar was found unconscious in his quarters, the passageway hidden behind the portrait of ariana exposed.

THE CLUES TO BE FOUND.

the pool of blood in the trophy room,

the dead unicorn, in the forest,

& an unconscious barman before the open passageway into hogwarts.

#nox.event015 #nox.plotdrop010 #nox.important #hp rp #harry potter rp #appless rp #fandom rp #canon rp #oc rp

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johaerys-writes · 3 years

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Fandom: The Song of Achilles

Summary: During his two month long sea voyage from Phthia to Skyros, Patroclus makes an unexpected friendship.

Chapter 3: Fate, the final chapter of At the Water’s Edge, is up! Where Patroclus finally reaches Skyros, and has an important decision to make.

Read here or on AO3! Or read from the beginning

The sun had set, and the night birds were gliding into the fast-approaching dusk when we finally returned to the ship.

The rest of the sailors had already gathered for dinner, the wide galley filled with the sounds of jest and song, with the smells of the fish stew that was being prepared. I didn’t usually join the crew during their meals, preferring to take them in my room, by myself, but that evening Xanthos had insisted I stay. He was sitting next to me now, with his cheeks still flushed from our trek through the verdant hills back to the port, and the wind that had combed through his locks had given him a wild appearance. There was a gleam in his eye, that I imagined matched my own.

The fish stew was rich and savoury, heavy with the taste of the sea and spices. Not all ships fed their crew this well, but the captain was a generous man, or so Xanthos had told me. After we had both finished our dinner, a nearby sailor treated us to some watered down wine. It was from the northern plains, near Macedonia, I was told, and quite strong, with a heavy aftertaste of berries and honeysuckle.

“Xanthos,” one of the men called. He was a tall man, strong like an bull, with his large head shaved clean. He had a bright and easy smile, which always made me somewhat uncomfortable, especially now that it was directed at both me and my companion. His gaze fell on the bracelet on Xanthos’ wrist. “What’s that you’re wearing? A little too fancy for you, isn't it?"

Xanthos smiled brightly, seemingly unaware of the laughter that broke out over the wide space. He raised his arm to show his bracelet to everyone who had lifted their heads from their drinks to look. “Do you like it, Thaddeus? I wasn’t aware it would be to your taste. I thought the only place you liked to wear jewellery was on your teeth.”

The other men laughed and jeered, banging their mugs on their tables. The jab did not seem to deter Thaddeus, who grinned even more brightly, revealing several golden teeth. “Everyone knows that, boy,” he said, laughing. “Did your friend choose it for you? You and I both know you couldn’t pick something nice if your life depended on it.”

I felt uncomfortable with everyone’s piercing stares that suddenly fell on me. Xanthos turned his body ever so slightly towards me, as if shielding me from the sailors’ crude jests. “He did,” he said, waving his mug casually. “He has a good eye. Which is more than anyone can say about you lot.”

They all laughed again, and Xanthos and Thaddeus exchanged even more jests, some of them crude, but none ill-natured. Before I knew it I was laughing with them too, and soon some of the sailors had come to sit around our table. Talk shifted away from Xanthos’ bracelet and into other matters, the ship’s journey and the highest price the captain had been able to get for some of the oils and herbs they carried, the details of the trade.

“Barley always sells cheaper here than it does in the mainland,” they would say. “Don’t know why the captain bothers with the Sporades.” Or, "Piraeus has raised the cargo tax to thirty three talents. Soon, they'll be charging an arm and a leg just to let ships into port."

I listened to their talk, quietly sipping on my wine. Trading held little interest for me. I had never in my life had to barter, sell or buy anything, apart from the rare occasions that Achilles and I would sneak away from the palace and go to the harbour to watch the street performers and musicians that sometimes ended up on our shores. It was always fun and exciting at first, but I would soon grow weary of the chatter and noise, of the heavy and sour smells of discarded fish and sweaty human flesh, of the rattling sound of the dice games at every corner. We would quickly retreat back to the olive grove, or our small secluded beach, where Achilles could run and throw his spears undisturbed. I would sit back on the warm sand and watch him move for hours, watch as the muscles rose and fell under his skin, as shadows pooled and stretched across his features with the passage of the dying sun.

A pang of longing drove through me at the thought, before I was able to stop it. My memories of Achilles had always been gold- tinted, as if the brightness of his presence made everything it touched resplendent, just like he was. They had always been a source of comfort for me, yet now they just made me ache for him all the more.

“Do you play, lord?”

I blinked at Thaddeus, jolting out of my reminiscing. At my baffled stare, he nodded at the stretch of table between us, smiling. “Do you play?”

I followed his gaze, and there I saw them. Four dice, their pips staring up at me like eyes. They were not white and made of bone like I was used to; they were red instead, made of terracotta stone. The pips were carved on their flat and smooth surface and painted over with dark dye. The shape and colour of them mattered not, though, as I found myself staring at them for what felt like a lifetime.

It was then that I remembered one of the reasons why I never joined the crew during their meals. Sooner or later, the tables would be cleared, and dice would be drawn out for games that lasted well into the night.

My pulse thrummed in my temples at the images that promptly rushed through me in waves; my anger at Clysonymus, at his blatant disrespect, his mockery. His eyes that widened as he fell back, losing his balance; the crack of his head against the stone. His blood trickling slowly on the dry ground beneath him, mixing with the soil and turning it crimson. I remembered how bright it was, as if it were before me just then. My stomach turned.

“Patroclus,” I heard Xanthos say beside me, but his words reached me as if through wool. “Are you well? You are pale as a sheet.”

I think I muttered a brief apology before standing up, almost making my chair topple over in my haste, then half-running towards the deck. My heart was racing; my mind was spinning, spinning. I was shaking like a fish out of water when I finally reached the railing and clutched it with trembling hands, my breath clawing at my throat.

It wasn’t always this bad. The sight of the dice didn’t always leave me this shaken, but my nightmares, ever since I had boarded the ship, were the worst they had been in years. Almost every night I would wake up trembling and out of breath, with cold sweat running down my spine. Those memories, Clysonymus’ face, the dice that rattled incessantly in my head; all those things were part of me, embedded in my bones. Had I honestly thought that one half day of careless enjoyment would be enough to ward off those ancient terrors?

I squeezed my eyes tightly, willing the images that seemed to be lodged there away. The night was dark upon the world now, and I felt swallowed by it, a pebble sinking to the bottom of the sea. It seemed as though if I let go of the railing for even a heartbeat, the waves would rush up and swallow me, drag me into their dark depths.

I jolted when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to Xanthos, who was watching me with evident concern.

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m fine. Really.” I gripped the railing hard, taking in a deep, steadying breath. My heartbeat was gradually getting slower, and I could feel the fear that had gripped me only a moment before easing away. I stared out into the darkness, at the stars that now shone brightly above me.

“Did, uh…” Xanthos started shyly beside me. “Did Thaddeus do something to upset you? I could talk to him if you wish. He’s a rough fellow, but he didn’t mean to—”

“No. No, of course not. He did nothing wrong. It wasn’t… it wasn’t his fault.”

Xanthos remained silent. He didn't press me to speak further, to explain; still, I felt like I had to.

I took another deep breath, this time to ease the words out of me. I had never spoken about my nightmares to anyone but Achilles. Without him by my side, it felt like every memory, every image from my past was a stone, slowly grinding me to meal. The last thing I wanted was to dig them up again, but the need to share the burden, if only for a moment, was what urged my tongue to weave the words.

“There was a boy, once,” I started quietly. “When I was younger. We fought over… over a pair of dice. I pushed him. He fell and broke his head.” My fingers tightened so much about the railing, that my knuckles had gone white, the wood digging into my flesh. “I killed him.”

Xanthos did not speak then, but I could sense no judgement or horror in his silence. Only patience. His very presence there gave me heart, and I continued. “I did not mean to. It was an accident. Yet every time I see dice… they just remind me of him.” I glanced up at him, fearing what I would see in his eyes, but there was only understanding.

“How old were you?” he asked softly.

“Ten.”

He let out a slow breath. “To have seen something like this, so young…” He shook his head, and his eyes glinted oddly in the night, reflecting the light of the waxing moon above us. “I am sorry you’ve had to live with this burden all those years, Patroclus.”

The sympathy in his voice made a wave of bitterness rise within me. I swallowed thickly, but the knot in my throat remained. “At least I got to live,” I said quietly. “That boy didn’t have that chance.”

I had never admitted those thoughts to anyone, not even to Achilles. I wished to stop my tongue from forming the words, to think of anything else, anything at all, but could not. “Sometimes,” I whispered, “I try to imagine what might have happened to that boy, had I not pushed him. How his life would have been, if I hadn’t been in it. He would have been at marrying age now. He might even have had children. He would have inherited his father’s titles, his lands… He would have been a man, in his own right. But he got to live none of that. Because… because of a pair of dice.”

My eyes burned as I spoke. I rubbed them stubbornly, determined to not shed any tears. I did not want Xanthos to think less of me.

Xanthos kept his silence for a long while. When he finally spoke, his voice was gentle, mingling with the sighing of the crisp sea breeze. “The night before I boarded my first ship,” he said, “I was terrified. The priests of Apollo had spoken of a terrible storm that was to come, the worst we had seen in ages. They’d seen it in the blood of a lamb they’d sacrificed, on Apollo’s holy day. I did not want to go. I sat on my bed while the wind blew outside and shook with fear. My father came in and saw me. He told me something then. It stuck with me.”

“What was it?” I asked.

“He said… 'A man whose fate it is to die in a fire, will never die in a storm'.” At my confused glance, he laughed softly. “What my father meant was, every one of us has a path in life. The moment we come into this world, the three Fates spin their threads and decide what is to come. If my destiny was to die in a sea storm, even if I stayed on land and herded sheep all my life, the storm would eventually find me. ‘Meet your fate proudly, boy,’ my father told me that night, ‘because you cannot escape it.’ ” He turned to look at me, his dark, almond shaped eyes meeting mine squarely. “You have your path. So did this boy.”

“But…” My old pains and fears rose to the surface, the dreams that had haunted me for most of my life. I struggled to find a justification for it, for what had happened to me, for what I’d done, something that would make it all make sense. I could not.

“It is cruel,” I whispered. “Is it not?”

“It is life, Patroclus.”

His hand on the railing was so close to mine, I could almost feel the heat emanating from his skin. I thought of his words, turned them this way and that in my mind. I had my path. So did Clysonymus. It did not change what I had done, his life had still ended too soon. His death was still my fault. Yet if I had not pushed him…

I would never have left Opus. I would not have gone to Phthia. I might never have met Achilles. I would never have known him, followed him, loved him. My life, as I knew it, would only be a shadow of what it was, what it could have been. It was still cruel, but it was my life. My path, the one the Fates had carved for me.

The Fates had never been kind, nor fair. But they were absolute. Inexorable.

My hand crossed the distance between us to land gently beside Xanthos’. The waves splashed against the ship’s belly, and the night owls at the shore cooed. We stayed silent, side by side, watching the night stretch endlessly before us.

The following evening, when I went to the ship’s galley for my dinner, none of the sailors were playing dice. It didn’t take long for me to notice that it was Thaddeus’ wrist that Xanthos’ bracelet was gracing now. When I glanced at him, the unspoken question lingering in my gaze, he only smiled and winked.

“Fate,” he jested cryptically, and took a large sip of his wine.

I didn’t see another die being thrown for the remainder of the days I stayed on the ship.

The day that the rolling hills of Skyros came into view arrived much slower, and much faster than I’d expected. The bay that we pulled up on shimmered golden in the early morning light. I could just make out the last of the Pleiades disappearing into the rosy fire of dawn when the ship was pulled to harbour. I leaned against the railing, my bag with my handful of belongings hanging by my shoulder, my heart beating in my throat. Somewhere on that island, perhaps in that palace atop the hill, Achilles was waiting for me.

Xanthos was by my side when the ship’s ropes were tied to the old and worn out palisades of the long and narrow wharf. I had thought he would go straight to his bed after his shift had ended, to get what little sleep he could before they would be setting off again, but he walked down with me, then followed me to the beach, where the wharf ended.

We gazed at each other for a long moment, standing ankle deep in crystal clear water. I found myself tracing the lines of his features, the slope of his nose, his strong eyebrows, his heart-shaped mouth. His eyes were kind and warm as ever, but there was something else hiding in their depths. During those heartbeats that we looked at each other I noticed everything, even things I had never paid much attention to before, as if I was trying to commit his features to memory, keep them safe with me.

“So,” he said softly, “it is time.”

I nodded. “It is.”

I expected him to leave then, to climb back up to the ship and sail to his own destiny. But he stayed there, gazing at me.

“We’ll be going back to Euboea now. To Kymi.”

“I know. The captain told me.” I smiled when I said, “And then you’ll be setting off for the Eastern ports, right?”

His lips widened in a smile that mirrored my own, but it was not quite as bright and effortless as I was used to. It was almost timid. He shifted on his feet, cleared his throat. “It won’t be for very long. Three, perhaps four months. And then we’ll be back.” A light, barely perceptible flush crept up his cheeks as he said, “I was hoping perhaps… I could see you. When I come back.”

I blinked, taken aback. I wasn’t rightly sure how long I’d be staying in Skyros, whether I would be going back to Phthia next. In my heart of hearts, I wished to find Achilles and leave with him straight away, return to Pelion, where Chiron was waiting for us. Yet all of my hopes seemed uncertain and hazy, like trying to grasp at shifting sand. Three, four months… I did not know if there was any way for me to plan that far ahead. Gods, I didn’t even know if Achilles was still where I’d been told he would be.

My stomach tightened as I told him earnestly, “I… I’m not sure where I’ll be in four months, Xanthos.”

“I know,” he said hastily. “I know that it’s all uncertain now. But… You could wait for me here. I could come back for you. And then we could leave together.”

"Leave?" I frowned a little as he spoke, my confusion increasing by the second. “Where would we go?”

“Anywhere. Anywhere at all. We could return to Phthia together, or… or anywhere else you like. Go to the mountains, perhaps. You like the mountains. Right?” His flush brightened, and his eyes flashed with something that I couldn’t quite decipher. Something akin to hope. “After my trip to the East, I think I’ll have enough gold to build a home. A small one. Like... like the one you told me about. With a garden out front…” He let his words trail away, searching my face. His throat bobbed when he swallowed. “We… could stay there. You and I.”

I froze when I finally caught on his meaning. He wanted me to… to go with him. To build a life with him. To be with him. To… love him.

I took a breath, preparing myself for the blow I was about to deliver. “I’m sorry, Xanthos. I… could not.”

I saw the joy and hope that had been there a moment before drain from his features. I saw his smile quiver, and his shoulders slouch. “Oh.”

“It’s not—” I started, then stopped myself. My fists opened and closed by my side, helpless. “I can’t give you what you want,” I said quietly. “This person I’ve come here to find… He’s everything to me. He’s…” I paused, looking about me. My mind worked furiously as I searched for words that wouldn’t hurt him anymore than they had to.

Xanthos spoke the words for me.

“Your fated one,” he said softly. He gave me a wan smile, his eyes kind and earnest as they met mine, but I could still see the hurt I’d wrought there. “I understand.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” The sun was rising slowly over the mountains in the East, painting his sun-bronzed features golden and bright.

“Pepromenon fyghein adynaton,” he said. Fate is inescapable.

I nodded slowly, not knowing what else to say. He reached out and tentatively placed his hand on my shoulder. “I wish you all the best, Patroclus.”

“So do I.” I met his gaze, looking deep into his warm, honey brown eyes. “Thank you, Xanthos. For everything.”

His fingers squeezed my shoulder gently, feather-light, before he turned to leave.

I stayed there for a long while, at the water's edge, watching as the ship slowly rowed away. When its sails were nothing but a white speck on the golden horizon, I turned around.

Somewhere on that island, in the palace atop that hill, my fate was waiting for me.

#the song of achilles #tsoa #patrochilles #patroclus #tsoa fanfic #tsoa fanfiction #at the water's edge #johaerys writes

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