#so like Maybe the position did it? sitting upright?? it's dumb as hell but what does my back care i guess

[orcelito]

After biking, I would like to update my pain scale numbers

It is a solid 4 or 5. To the point where I am struggling. To do things.

I am Kind Of in agony lol

#speculation nation #negative/ #i guess. since i keep complaining about my.pain #this is just. the worst flare up in a while. possibly The worst. #it's so bad i just want to curl up on the floor #except not bc that position would bring pain too lol. just crumple then. #mind numbing pain. and ive already taken something for it. #and i have no idea why it's flaring up so badly. the only thing out of the norm i did yesterday was driving #so like Maybe the position did it? sitting upright?? it's dumb as hell but what does my back care i guess #i dont know how im supposed to survive 5 hours of this. fucking hell.

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

When He’s Not Here

Pairing: Bakugou x reader (x Kirishima)

Warnings: Cursing, implied severe nightmare(s), mentioned character death (just kinda talking about it, nothing actually happened, dw), soft Bakugou (like, really soft)

A/N: I will take this as an opportunity to welcome myself back into writing (although I never really stopped; I just wanted to work on a few personal projects that were just for me :]). Um, I don’t have much to say about this other than I actually like it! I think it turned out pretty well, so props to me 🎉.

This is technically a Kiribaku x reader, buuut TWIST, Kirishima isn’t really in this one. Mostly just y/n and Bakugou interaction. Yeah, fun.

I promise this is fluff. It’s a little angsty, but not to any extreme. Just nightmare comfort and snuggles with Blasty.

Anyway, enjoy!

-Sugar

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You bolted upright, chest heaving, disoriented.

Everything around you was uncomfortably hot—unbearable. A sheen of sweat coated your skin, and the sheets beneath you were damp. Your heart pounded in your chest, making it hard to think, hard to breathe. Darkness pressed around you, only making it easier to see your visions again, playing over and over in your memory.

Desperate, your hands patted blindly around you, looking for something that would make it stop, something to help you feel better.

Your trembling fingers bumped into a warm, solid mound beside you and you latched onto it, hoping to find solace in this sea of fear and nothingness.

“Eijirou?” you gasped, already somehow feeling more grounded as you shook the man’s arm.

“Hm?” Rather than who you’d been expecting, a familiar rough voice emerged from the dark mass beside you.

“Katsuki?” you called out instead.

“What?” He rolled onto his back, dragging a hand over his face. “(Y/N)? What time is—”

You suddenly tackled him into a hug, burying your nose into his shoulder. “You’re alive! Thank goodness you’re okay!” You could sob with how happy you were to find that your nightmare had been little more than just a dream, that Bakugou and Kirishima weren’t dead, and that you were still safe.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” he asked gruffly. “And what’s got you shaking so hard? Was it another—”

“Bad dream,” you affirmed, pulling off of him and straightening. “Just a . . . dream.”

“Oh,” he muttered, sitting up.

“Sorry I woke you up. I was trying for—”

“Eijirou?”

You nodded sheepishly. “Not that I don’t want to talk to you, I just . . . forgot he wasn’t here.”

“Oh.”

Now it was coming back to you. Kirishima was away on a mission on the other side of the country. This was yours and Bakugou’s second night without him, but it still felt so foreign to have him missing from your bed. The sheets felt . . . colder and emptier with him gone. Yes, the redhead had a habit of spreading out in his sleep and snoring much louder than necessary, but both you and Katsuki (though he wouldn’t admit it out loud) had grown quite fond of his presence.

“Need anything?” the blond grunted, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Um,” you mumbled, thinking. “Maybe some water?”

Bakugou stood without another word, sliding silently out of the bedroom and down to the kitchen. Flicking on the light, he grabbed a glass out of the cabinet.

For as long as you’d been sharing a bed, Bakugou had been aware of your recurrent nightmares. He’d always been a light sleeper, so it was unavoidable that your muffled whimpers and kicking would wake him up. He was there for you when you needed him, yes, but . . . it didn’t take long for Katsuki to realize that Eijirou was just better with this sort of thing.

Bakugou didn’t know much about emotions, or comfort for that matter. He tended to just blast his way through things and hope others did the same. He had more important things to worry about than “feelings”. But he’d be a damn fool to overlook how powerful they could be, especially when it came to you and Eijirou. Hell, even the weight of his own feelings for the two of you shook his world from time to time.

But it just wasn’t something he was good at, and it frustrated him. He had to be the best. The best of the best, especially for someone like you. You were his partner, and he’d vowed to himself to be the best boyfriend to you no matter what. Maybe he was being a coward. Shouldn’t he work on the things he wasn’t good at? Even when they didn’t come easy?

He had to at least try.

Bakugou came back into the bedroom with a fresh glass of water in his hand. You took it from him gratefully, letting the cool liquid clear your mind as it slid down your throat.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low.

“Yes. Thank you.” You set the glass on the nightstand beside you, curling back into yourself.

The blond racked his mind. What did Kirishima do? Usually as soon as the redhead was awake and cooing over you, Katsuki would try to fall back asleep. He knew you were safe with him, so what was the point in doing anything more? Besides, Bakugou’s sleep schedule wasn’t something to be messed with. But now Eijirou was gone, and you needed someone to be there for you. You were more important to Katsuki than sleep. And you were still shaking.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bakugou finally managed.

You thought for a moment before shaking your head. “It was just a dream. I don’t want to think about it more than I need to.”

“Oh.”

Bakugou sat on the bed in silence. Now what? If you weren’t going to talk, how was he supposed to know what to do?

“What does Kirishima do? When this happens.”

You glanced at the rumpled blankets underneath you, suddenly—for seemingly no reason—shy. “He usually holds me.”

Of course he did. That was your combined solution to everything. Figures.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you threw out quickly. “I know you’re not really in a cuddly mood right now—”

Bakugou gathered you up in his arms and shoved your body into his chest. You gasped at the abrupt motion but were just as quick to relax against him, suddenly feeling secure in his strong hold. His body was a little different from Kirishima’s; still thoroughly well-muscled, but otherwise smaller and leaner. You breathed in his scent—also different, but still so heavenly familiar and sweet.

“What gave you that idea?” he asked, his chin resting gently on the top of your head.

“You, um, were facing away from me when we went to bed.”

“Tch, dumbass.” He shifted you into a more comfortable position on his lap, kissing your scalp. “Now what?” he mumbled into your hair.

“He . . . talks to me.”

“What does he say?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “He reassures me, I guess.”

Bakugou frowned. “How am I supposed to do that if I don’t know what your shitty nightmare was about anyway?”

He felt you stiffen in his hold, and he knew he’d messed up.

“Look,” he muttered. “I know this really isn’t my thing, but please. I’m just trying to help you.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled in a small voice.

Silence.

Bakugou didn’t mind silence. In fact, he generally preferred it. It gave him peace to think to himself, and he hated it when there was something annoying and distracting buzzing around him, especially when it was some dumb, unimportant person.

But you weren’t dumb, or unimportant to him, and this time, he felt truly uncomfortable in the quiet dark. Why weren’t you saying anything? You weren’t exactly the type to never stop talking—you could be pretty quiet yourself, actually—but even you had a tendency to fill the void with something.

If you weren’t going to do it, he might as well just get it over with.

“You said something about me being alive when you woke up, yeah?” he asked you. “Scared of me dying?”

You paused, then nodded, tightly clutching the front of his tank top.

“Nothing can kill me,” he said, trying to approach with his cocky attitude.

“. . . you know that isn’t true,” you murmured.

He scowled. “Are you doubting me or something?”

“No. You’re just . . . no one’s invincible, Katsuki. Not even you.”

Bakugou huffed. This wasn’t going the way he’d hoped. How did Eijirou do this so often? Why had Bakugou never paid enough attention? Now he was starting to feel guilty. Had he been slacking off with you?

“I think you’re amazing, ‘Tsuki,” you went on. “But I’m scared of losing you. Both of you.”

He sighed. “Now why are you worrying about that?”

“I don’t know . . . .” You shrugged. “I guess that the simple answer is because I love you. Of course I worry about something happening. I don’t—I don’t know what I’d do if one of you got hurt, or—or worse.” You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting to keep yourself from crying.

“Hey,” Bakugou said softly.

You nuzzled yourself closer into his chest, sniffling a little and taking a deep breath.

“You know you’re strong, right?” he muttered, brushing his thumb over your shoulder. “I see it in you. I have for years. I trust that you can handle anything. You’ve been through a lot.”

It was your turn to sigh. “But I don’t want to go through something like that.”

“You think anyone does?”

“Well, no. Of course not.”

“Listen. You’re talking about two of the best pro heroes there are, okay? We’ve all got each other and we can take care of ourselves, got that? Worrying about us isn’t gonna do you any favors.”

“I can’t just ‘stop worrying’,” you countered.

“Okay, but don’t put so much into it. We’re here with you now, dumbass. Enjoy it while you can.”

“. . . Eijirou’s not here.”

Bakugou paused, thinking. “‘That what all this is about?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know. Probably.”

“I’m sure he’s safe.” Katsuki rocked you ever so slightly in his arms, settling back into the quiet night.

“Do you miss him?” you asked.

“. . . ‘course I do.”

You smirked. “Aww.”

“Hey!” he protested. “I . . . I’m not scared to say that I love him. Or you for that matter.”

“I know.” You leaned up, touching the tip of your nose to his.

He blinked in surprise at the gesture, but then smiled softly and rested his forehead against yours.

“This is weird to say,” you began after a moment, “but I can’t really sleep without him snoring in my ear like a lawnmower.”

Katsuki barked out a laugh. “Are you kidding? This is the most peaceful night’s sleep I’ve gotten since we moved in together.”

You giggled. “Okay. But don’t you miss his good-night kisses?”

“Tch,” Bakugou grumbled. “Of course not. He’s so clingy and annoying.”

“Oh? That’s not how I remember it,” you laughed. “You love it when he gets like that.”

The blond scowled in the dark. “Alright, maybe it’s not so bad.”

You hummed, resting your head on his shoulder again. “I love you both, you know,” you said. “I can’t wait until things can go back to normal.”

“Shitty hair’ll be home soon,” Bakugou assured you. He chuckled to himself. “Until then, do you want me to snore in your ear for you? How about that? Something like this?” He obnoxiously made a loud, fake snoring noise in the back of his throat, making it sound as gross as possible.

You cracked up laughing, holding him closer to you while your shoulders shook. “Eijirou does not sound like that!”

“Oh, yes, he does,” Bakugou argued playfully. “Believe me, I sleep next to him too. And for whatever reason, you like it.”

You laughed again, and Katsuki’s cheeks warmed at the sweet sound of your mirth. “It’s just too quiet without him! I’m not used to it.”

“Well how about hogging all the blankets, then? And stealing the whole bed? Would that make you feel better?” Bakugou turned your bodies so he could flop on top of you, starfishing his limbs so you couldn’t get up.

“Actually, you do do that,” you teased. “You sprawl out on the bed all the time.”

He pouted. “Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Well how about kisses then? I’m the best kisser there is, and I’ve got two partners that’ll attest to that,” he boasted proudly.

“Ooh, two partners, huh?”

“Yeah, and you’re one of them. Here, I’ll prove it.”

Before you could say anything in response, Bakugou’s lips found yours, kissing you deeply and taking your breath away. Your hand slid up to cup his cheek, holding him in place as he embraced you. His lips were so soft and sweet—he always wore chapstick before he went to bed. You couldn’t help but sigh happily as his mouth moved over yours; gentle, but still with the slightest hint of roughness to it he always carried no matter what.

Eventually he pulled back, letting you breathe.

“I do like having just the two of us here,” you admitted quietly, brushing some of his spiky bangs back from his forehead. “It’s . . . different.”

You couldn’t really see it in the dark, but he smiled. “I like it too.” He leaned in and kissed your lips once more. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You stroked his cheek with the side of your thumb. “But maybe we shouldn’t be teasing our boyfriend while he isn’t here to defend himself.”

Bakugou snorted. “Eijirou doesn’t care. Besides, it’s all true.”

You chuckled, running your fingers through his hair and scratching at his scalp. “Thanks for making me feel better.”

Oh, that’s right, he was supposed to have been comforting you. He guessed that somehow, he’d done it. His chest swelled with pride. “Sure thing. Are you feeling alright now?”

“Yeah,” you said. “That dream was stupid anyway. It didn’t make any sense.”

“Of course it didn’t.” Katsuki pulled you into his arms again, rolling you both onto your sides so he could face you. “Shitty fucking dream. It’s not real, and it can’t hurt you. I’m here for you, got that? That’s what matters. Nothing’s going to take me away, and I mean it.” He kissed your forehead, pulling the blankets up around your shoulders again. “I fight and win for you, you know. I win for both of you. You two never leave my mind. I’m not stupid and reckless, okay? I’m careful enough so that I don’t get hurt like that.”

“I know.” You rested your head against his chest, sighing in contentment at the feeling of being held by him. It was warm and calming, comfortable and familiar. There wasn’t anywhere else you’d rather be.

“Ready to go back to sleep?” he asked you, rubbing your back.

“Yeah,” you murmured, shutting your eyes.

He hummed. “Good. I’ll see you in the morning, (Y/N).”

“Good night, Katsuki.”

Soon, the two of you drifted off to sleep, and until you awoke again at dawn, you were at peace.

…

“I’m home!” a voice called out by the doorway.

You jumped up from the couch, making a beeline towards the entrance of your house. “Eijirou!” you greeted happily, running up to him for a hug.

“Hey! It’s my darling, wonderful (Y/N)!” he laughed, dropping his bags and hoisting you up in his arms.

“It’s my big, strong manly man!” you countered, laughing.

He brought his face to yours, humming happily as he kissed you several times in quick succession.

“The two of you are going to make me puke.”

Eijirou let you go, setting you back down on the floor to look up at his boyfriend, who’d stepped in to greet Kirishima for himself.

“Katsuki!” he said happily, unfazed. He held out his arms, making grabby motions with his hands toward the blond.

Bakugou rolled his eyes, walking up to the redhead despite his annoyed façade. Eijirou hugged him tight, pressing a long, solid kiss to his lips.

“Group hug!” he said, pulling you in again for another hug, this time with Bakugou in the mix. “I missed you guys.”

“How was your trip?” you asked him.

“Great!” Kirishima said. “I’ll tell you everything about it as soon as I get something to eat, I’m starving.”

“I made dinner for everyone,” Bakugou said.

“So that’s why it smells amazing!” Kirishima kissed Bakugou on the cheek in thanks, then gave you another to be fair. “Let’s go then,” he said, stepping forward. “Although, I guess I should ask; did I miss anything while I was gone?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Taglist: @aahilovetheatre​ @basicalyrandom​ @hyunmin-1404​ @kqtsukii​ @nabo39​ @pyrofanatic​​ @rainy-skys-and-bright-stars​ @sendhelpimstupid​ @sxngwoos-ash-box​ @xoxopam4​

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou bnha #katsuki bakugou bnha #bakugou katsuki bnha #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #kirishima x reader #kiribaku x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #reader insert #sugar fics

[nagito-kissmaeda]

Mother May I Sleep with Danger - Servant!Nagito Komaeda x Reader

ミ☆ not a request, I’m just really horny for servant asjdkfkflddj

Summary: future foundation reader is kidnapped by the WOH and figures if they’re going to die anyway……..

Contains: Explicit Sexual Content, Fem reader, no pronouns used

Word Count: 3589

The foundation is not going to be happy with you.

Not only did you balls up your mission into Towa City, but now your uniform is ripped all to hell, basically slashed to ribbons by the Monokuma who managed to overpower you. It was your new set too, all fresh and clean. This mess is going to get you seriously mocked by the men in operations when you get back.

That is if the foundation even lets you back onto the helicopter after this disaster of a mission.

You huff and turn to face the man lurking in the far corner of your cell. He’s been standing there for the past 20 minutes, just shaking and staring at you with wide grey eyes. You had been planning to just ignore him until he left, but he isnt leaving, “What do you want?”

He doesn’t answer, just wraps his arms around himself and starts giggling.

“Are you just going to stand there all day?” You snap, crossing your arms and glaring up at him from your seat on the floor, “If you’re going to kill me just get it over with, the anticipation has all but worn off and I'm just starting to get angry.”

“Ah...kill you?” He giggles again. His voice is a lot gentler than you had been expecting. What with the manic eyes and tangled hair. You were prepared for him to be downright menacing. He sucks in a breath and levels his gaze with you, “I wouldn't kill you. That would be waste.” The chain around his throat jangles as he gestures at you with his mitted hand, knees wobbling like they are barely strong enough to keep him upright, “Honestly, a bug like myself killing you would help no one. It would be utterly disappointing for both sides, and what is the point in that? No despair...no hope...ahhhhaaaa…” he brings the cuff of his jacket up to his mouth and starts gnawing on it, “it would be completely pointless...mm?”

“Why haven't the children killed you?” Your brows draw together, watching his balance shifting from foot to foot, “You must be at least eighteen, right?”

He wheezes, throwing one shoulder up in a haphazard shrug, “Older. I think. I honestly can’t remember.”

For some reason. A terrible little voice in the back of your head whispers - Hey, at least it’s legal! You balk at your own lack of decorum. The man is still currently chewing so furiously on his sleeve that drool has started rolling down his chin, his hair is so matted that if you dug your fingers into it you would probably never get them out again. You are smart enough to take one look at this wheezing, sweating, drooling mess of a man and think: gross.

Unfortunately, your cunt is dumb enough to disagree.

Maybe it’s because you’re going to die anyway. Maybe it’s because his black jeans cling very tightly to his thighs. Maybe you just have terrible taste in men. It doesn’t matter why, but for some godforsaken reason, you are attracted to him.

“So. Are they just keeping you around as a--” you examine him again, eyes locking on the chain dangling down by his knees. (why does looking at that make you want to rub your thighs together?) “--a...pet?”

He laughs again, finally letting the sleeve he was chewing on drop back down to his side, “A fitting position for someone like me, but no. I am their servant.” The man takes a step towards you, the chain jangles in ways that your insides apparently find arousing. You swallow, “I came to this town to seek refuge, but...well...you can see how that turned out.” he laughs again, shoulders quaking with the noise. You can help but notice the stiff way the hand obscured by his mitt is moving. Like he doesn't have any real control over it.

“Ah.” You say, eyes still focussed on the hand you cannot see, but can imagine perfectly well. That hand, along with his age, seem to only lead to one conclusion, “You’re one of the remnants of despair, aren’t you?”

He grins at you, manic, all sharp teeth and wild eyes, taking another step closer to you “Oh! I didn’t expect you to recognise common garbage like me…” he makes a noise that is dangerously close to being a moan, before exclaiming, “you’re right, I am!” His grin turns syrupy in a way that you find yourself enjoying much more than you should. His eyes hooded as he breathes, “does that disgust you? Does my very presence make you want to spit in my face?”

The way he speaks, his soft lilting tone. It almost sounds like he is crooning, purring. You shift on the floor, trying to ignore the wetness pooling between your legs. You have gone from wanting to fuck a regular crazy man, to wanting to fuck a crazy man literally out for capture by the company you work for.

“Listen.” You start, suddenly nervous, “The foundation is looking for you, all of you. But Togami in the other cell and I are working with-”

Your words catch in your throat when he comes barreling towards you and claps his bare hand over your mouth. His eyes are wild when they meet yours, pupils little more than pinpricks in dark swirling circles that dig deep inside of you, his voice drops to a terrifying whisper, “No. Not yet...I have important work I must do and you will not keep me from it.”

“We want to help.” You hiss into the meat of his palm. Horrified at how you feel the jagged grin that tugs at his mouth deep in your stomach. His mouth pulls so wide that his lips tear and bleed, drool pooling at the corners of his mouth and dripping over his lips when he starts laughing again, loud and manic, wheezing and decrepit.

“You truly are an embodiment of hope. You think you can...ah...haha…” He wheezes again, tangled white hair falling over his face and he tries to hold in a laugh, “You truly think you can help me? What a feat that would be! Endlessly impressive I’m sure” He leans in closer to you, eyes calm once again, hooded and piercing, “Thank you for your kindness, but I assure you. It will not be so simple.”

His face is so close to yours now, you can feel his breath on your face, see the bags under his eyes and the way his papery skin has wrinkled around the corners of his mouth. He looks half dead, but under that. You see soft skin, pretty long eyelashes and what are undoubtedly the most stunning eyes you have ever seen. You are going to die soon anyway, so you dont stop yourself from whispering, “You were very pretty once. Weren’t you?”

His lips curl into a smile, but his eyes look almost sad, “Most would disagree.”

“Hm. That’s a shame.” you whisper, trying to ignore the seductive tone you have adopted, “I think you’re still quite pretty now.”

He lets out a wheezing giggle, dropping down into a crouch in front of you and resting his hands on his knees, “Are you trying to win me over with words of kindness? With sharp lies wrapped in goose down?”

They aren't lies, but you can tell he won't believe you even if you try to convince him, “Just tell me what you want with me.”

“What do I want with you?” He breathes, reaching out a shaky hand and running his knuckles down your cheek. One side of his mouth quirks up in a smile at the feeling of your skin, “I don’t want anything...eheh...I just...I just want to watch. I want to see what you will do, I want to see you fight.”

“I’d be able to fight better if you let me out of the cell.”

“Aha. Cute.” He drags his tongue over his lower lip, “But wouldn't it be so much more satisfying to watch you overcome impossible odds? For your hope to overcome the utmost despair?” His head tilts to the side and he smiles, “I have faith in you. I’ll be cheering you on, just dont expect my help.”

The more he talks, the less you understand him. At this point you're barely even listening to his words and are just letting the soft tones of his voice wash over you, his eyes are blinding, it feels like he is staring straight through you. The door of the cell is still locked, Togami is still far enough away that he couldn't hear you if you screamed. Help won't be coming for a long time if it is even coming at all.

And you want to fuck a remnant of despair.

“What’s your name, pretty boy?” you whisper, reaching out a hand to push some of his tangled hair away from his face.

He stills, for a moment. The panic in his eyes is so powerful that even his ceaseless shivering stops. He blinks slowly, unsurely, and his lips pull up in a smile, “My pathetic name isn't even worthy of being heard by someone like you.” he breathes, leaning into your hand as it comes to rest on his cheek, “Servant will suffice.”

You make an upset noise, sitting up on your knees and leaning in closer to his face. His eyes aren’t grey, you realise, they’re green, “Are you sure? I was hoping for something a little more...intimate.”

“Intimate…” he whispers, almost like he is testing how the word tastes on his tongue. His face is so close to yours now, your hand reaches around and curls into the mess of hair on the back of his head. He starts shivering again, a wheezy laugh escaping his mouth almost breathlessly as he (with a surprising amount of tenderness) lowers you down to lay on the hard concrete below, “Is...this what you mean?”

Your heart is racing. He looms above you, knees planted firmly on either side of your hips. His hair tumbles down over his face, obscuring his beautiful green eyes in shadow and you feel your hips twitch upward at even the anticipation of his touch.

“Exactly what I mean.” you purr, slowly sliding your hand down the length of his chain. He quivers above you, a broken moan leaves his mouth when you give it a gentle tug. Your lips curl into a predatory smirk, and then you tug it again, hard.

His mouth collides with yours and a shocked gasp escapes his throat, his arms shake at your sides, desperate and almost panicked. It only takes a moment for him to soften, returning the kiss with a newfound passion, moaning deep and loud into your mouth and leaning into you. His kisses feel a little messy and unpracticed, but he makes up for it with enthusiasm. Choking on a groan when you bury a hand in his hair and pull tight on the strands.

He moves away from your mouth, trailing down the side of your throat and sucking hard on your skin. You can feel his breath hot and heavy in your ear as his tongue lathes over your flesh, teeth sinking in hard into the join between your throat and shoulder.

A moan breaks free from your mouth, and your hips buck upward high enough to meet Servant’s and you can feel his gasp against your skin. He grinds his hips down on yours in response, sucking in a breath at the friction.

“This…this really is my lucky day…” he whines, leaning back on his heels and undoing the few surviving buttons on your shirt. Your bra is conservative, skin toned and unflattering. It’s designed for missions out into the wastes of the world, not for whatever is happening right now.

Servant doesn’t seem to mind, running his tongue across his chapped lower lip, eyes blown wide as he drinks in your form. A shudder runs through him, and he swallows, “may I?”

You nod, “please…touch me…”

He giggles, gripping your breasts in both of his hands (though the hand hidden by the mitt is only really able to press down, but he is trying his best.) before burying his face between them, sighing happily against your skin. You choke on a moan when you feel his tongue run up your cleavage, hands squeezing almost desperately.

“Servant…” you whisper, “my bra, take it off…”

He leans up, a shy smile on his face, “Ah, I would like to! But uh, as I’m sure you know-“ he waves at you with his mitted hand, “-I can’t really use these fingers”

The thought of the dead hand attached at his forearm should deter you, but it doesn’t. You sit up just enough to unclasp your bra, chucking it off into the corner of the cell before grabbing Servant’s bare hand and pressing it to your breast. Servant chokes, brushing his thumb over your nipple.

Your breath hitches, and he is emboldened enough to take the other into his mouth. Your back instinctively arches upward, chasing the warmth of his mouth encasing your nipple, the finger and thumb on his bare hand pinching at twitching the other. His tongue is wet and sloppy, this is no precision to his licks and sucks. The servant is running on animalistic desperation alone.

Luckily, that doesn’t bother you much at all.

The cool metal of the chain presses down hard on your bare stomach, his mitt is scratchy where that hand is pressed firmly to your waist, not able to grab, but it still reads as possessive. You can feel him panting and moaning against your breast, his tangled white hair brushing against your skin in a way that makes you shiver. Your sex is aching, the way he furiously circles his tongue around your nipple feels almost feral and it makes you want more.

You hook your leg around the back of his knees, and use the leverage to flip the both of you over. Servant gasps when his back hits the ground. You grin, physical training at the Future Foundation is finally coming in handy.

Servant looks like a perfect ruin beneath you. His hair spread out on the hard concrete, eyes glassy with desire, cheeks bright red and mouth wet with saliva. You laugh, you can feel him quivering below you. The quivering grows worse when you tug his black jacket down off his shoulders and start working his shirt up and over his head. He is so thin, sickly, shaking, barely even there. All jutting bones and paper thin skin.

“Are they feeding you?” you find yourself asking quite seriously.

Servant giggles, “They’re children. I feed myself when I find the time.”

“You don't often find the time, do you?” he sucks in a breath when the tip of your finger runs up over his exposed ribs. You lean down and press a hot kiss to his collarbone, “Are you sure that you’ll have enough energy for this?”

“Ehehe...Don’t concern yourself with that-“ he leans up enough to lick all the way up the length of your throat, “I can be quite tenacious when required”

You don't doubt it. Leaning back down to kiss him firmly, licking into his open mouth as your hands trail down his torso and to the button on his jeans. He whines loudly when you undo the zipper and wrap your fist around the hardness in his boxers. His hips stutter up into your grip and you smile against his lips. He’s cute. It’s cute how desperate he is. You sit up, grinding your hips down against his, moaning aloud at the feeling of his cock pressing firmly against your clit through your panties.

Servant breaks out into a breathless giggle, panting and moaning as he pushes his hips up to meet yours, shivery and insatiable. The only light in the room is a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, just bright enough to catch on his teeth when his chapped lips curl back in a grin.

“Yes~” He whines when you grind down again, pretty eyes fluttering closed and white hair spreading even further across the concrete, “use me use me use me!”

You like that. You like that a lot, “You want to be used?” you breathe, sitting up just enough that you can wriggle out of your panties, hiking your tight pencil skirt up over your hips.

“Please...please…” he whimpers, hips stuttering up even though there is nothing to meet them. Drool trailing down his chin, “I want you to use me for your pleasure…” he gasps out a moan, like even the thought of it is too much for him, “...cum all over me...please...ruin me…”

“Okay…” you whisper, pulling his boxers and jeans down his thighs to expose his cock, he hisses a breath in through his teeth that turns into a moan when you grab him, “Can you be a good boy and stay still for me?”

He nods furiously. Thighs and stomach tensing as he forces himself not to move. It becomes even harder when you slowly slip yourself down on him, letting your head loll back in a moan at the feeling of him filling you. He cries out, hands jumping up to grab at your waist, trying so hard to keep his hips still when all he wants is to chase your warmth.

A smile crawls its way across your face when you lean forward, placing your arms on either side of his head. He stares up at you, enamoured with you, face flushed red and mouth hung open, “You feel so good, Servant.” you croon, slowly licking up the shell of his ear.

He mewls, thrusting up inside of you just a little. He just can't resist.

“I’m...I’m sorry, I'm so pathetic ehehe” he pants, “Can’t even follow such a simple order.”

“Well, hopefully you will do better with this next one.” You start, adjusting yourself so your bare breasts are now right in front of his face, “suck.”

He doesn't waste one second, licking up under one of your nipples and then pulling it into his mouth. Peering up at you through his pretty eyelashes as he sucks languidly on your tit, swirling his tongue around and moaning so deeply that you can feel the vibrations.

“Ahh…ah! You’re such a pretty boy, aren’t you?”

He nods

“Such a good boy.”

He nods again, moving his hands from your waists to your breasts, pressing them close enough together that he is able to suck on both nipples at once.

“Oh! Ohhhhhhhhh fuck- I…hng…” you rock your hips forward, keening loudly when the head of his cock meets your g-spot. Servant is still trying to stay still. Panting loudly as he furiously licks and sucks on both of your nipples. Wet and sloppy with little to no precision, so desperate to taste you, to devour you. The pleasure in your stomach is curling and twisting, the feeling of him so deep inside you, quivering as he resists the urge to move. It’s so much and not enough all at once.

“Servant…” you groan, hips twitching forward enough to grind your clit down on his pelvis, “you…you can move…”

His hips snap up immediately. He doesn’t waste even a second to drill himself deep inside of you, almost sobbing against the flesh of your breasts when the desperation he has been holding in finally gets to escape. He is animalistic, he is hungry. His hands move from your breasts to grip tightly to your hips, encouraging you to bounce up and down on his cock.

Luckily you don’t need much encouragement. Sitting up enough that your breasts leave his mouth with a lurid pop, throwing your head back and riding him like your life depends on it. Underneath you, you can hear the sound of his chain jangling with the force of his upward thrusts, along with his staccato breathing as he loses himself deeper and deeper within you.

Sweat drips down your forehead, down between your shoulder blades, it feels so good, it feels so wrong. The ever present itch of his mitt presses against your skin, a grim reminder of everything he is, everything he has done. It only turns you on more.

“I…I…AHAHAH! I’m…close.” He stammers, eyes wide when they fixate on the spot where you are joined, sharing himself disappearing inside of you again and again. His bare hand slides down your side and around to your clit, rubbing fast, messy circles that make your hips jump forward.

It’s too much, you can feel your insides growing tighter and tighter as his fingers bring you closer to the release you need so badly. Tossing your head back with a strangled moan as you finally cum, clenching hard around his cock and almost sobbing with how good it feels, how good he feels.

As Servant chases your release with his own, breaking into a breathless laughed as he pounds you with reckless abandon, cumming deep inside of you-

You can’t help but think that the foundation is really not going to be happy with you now.

But as Servant comes down from his high, his grip softens, his eyes grow sleepy, and he gives you a gentle smile that makes you heart race just a little-

And you realise that you don’t really care anymore.

#Nagito x reader #komaeda x reader #danganronpa x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #sorry about the formatting I’m on mobile right now I’ll fix it tomorrow lolololol

[dadbodosamu]

what’s my name? [daddy] || part 2

Stepdad Osamu x Cis!Fem Reader

WARNINGS: pregnancy, degradation, squirting, vomit (nonsexual), cheating, toxic relationship??, age gap (Osamu’s in his thirties and reader is 18), voyeurism, daddy kink, oral (m receiving), cockwarming, exactly one (1) spank, overstimulation, tummy bulge, pseudoincest, mentions of threesome, mentions of double penetration, dacryphilia, breeding?? maybe?, thigh riding

3.6k words

tagging @candy-hime bc i love u bb

part one || part two || part three

You tap your fingernails against the porcelain sink as your phone counts down from five minutes. Each second seems slower than the last and at this point, four minutes and 52 seconds, you’re ready to throw your phone across the room.

“What does it say?” Osamu asks through the door. You want to scream.

“Nothing. It doesn’t say anything yet,” you snap. You take a deep breath and continue. “It takes five minutes. Four and a half minutes left.”

“Can I come in?” He asks, softly.

You hesitate before slowly unlocking the door and letting him in.

The already small bathroom feels that much smaller with Osamu’s large frame in it. You try not to feel claustrophobic as Osamu grabs your hand.

“It’s all going to be okay, no matter what the test says,” he says.

You’re overcome with the urge to laugh, cry, and scream all at once. Of course he thinks it’ll all be okay, he’s not the one possibly pregnant with his step-father’s baby.

Three minutes and 48 seconds.

Your mother was going to be crushed. Her only child, knocked up at eighteen by none other than her step-father.

You bite your lip to hold back tears as you think of your mother.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Osamu asks, pulling you into a tight hug. You want to cringe at his touch but your body instinctively relaxes in his hold.

“Mom…” you say, “she’s going to be crushed.”

“And what about ya? How do ya feel?” He asks.

“Sick,” you answer shortly. “Anxious. Like I’m going to throw up any second now. How could I do this to her?”

Osamu doesn’t respond, just continues to rub your back as the seconds count down.

Your heart stops when your timer goes off.

“It’s ready,” you say, pulling away from Osamu. You grab the pregnancy test and take a deep breath before glancing down at it.

Positive.

You drop the test like it’s bit you. Oh god, it’s positive. You’re pregnant with Osamu’s child.

Osamu picks the test up right as you shove past him to vomit into the toilet.

“Yer pregnant,” he says. You gag. “We’re going to have a baby.”

You wipe your mouth on your sleeve and look at him. His eyes are glossy and his lips are stretched into the happiest smile you’ve ever seen. It makes you want to vomit again.

“Why are you smiling?” You demand. Your throat burns as the acid in your stomach threatens to come up.

“I’m going to have a baby,” he says, grabbing your shoulders. “I’m going to be a father.”

You want to attack him.

“How could you be happy about this?” You hiss. “This is terrible. I don’t want this.”

“That’s not what ya were sayin’ when I was balls deep in yer cunt last night,” Osamu says. “Or any night, for that matter.”

“Do you not care at all what my mom is going to say?” You demand. “Have you thought for one second about anything but yourself? You’re my step-father, for fuck’s sake!”

“That hasn’t stopped ya before,” Osamu says. “I don’t care about that. I care about you and this baby. Our baby.”

Your face softens at his words. “Other people care. My mom’s going to care. She’ll go crazy when we tell her. What if she calls the cops? What are we going to do?”

“What we do isn’t illegal,” Osamu says. “Immoral, maybe. But not illegal.”

“She’s going to hate me,” you whimper. Osamu sighs and pulls you into his chest tightly.

“What do ya want, sweetheart?” He asks, softly. “Daddy has to know what ya want so he can get it for ya.”

“You. I want you,” you say. Osamu squeezes you lightly. “I just want to be with you all the time, daddy.”

“Ya know daddy can’t say no to ya, baby girl,” he says. “We’ll tell yer mom tonight, okay?”

“Everything?” You ask, looking up at him. He nods. “She’ll kick us out. Let’s just tell her I’m pregnant, not everything yet. Let’s just wait.”

“Whatever ya want, baby girl,” Osamu says. “Ya just tell her yer pregnant and I’ll support ya if she gets mad.”

“I need to lay down,” you mumble, pulling away from him. Osamu carefully leads you to your bed, helping you down slowly.

“Can we cuddle, please?” You ask softly.

“Do you want me to make you something to eat first, sweetheart?” He asks. You shake your head.

“Jus’ wan’ you t’ hold me,” you say through a yawn. “Wan’ daddy.”

“Of course, baby,” Osamu says. You move over to make room for his large frame in your small bed. “Daddy’s got you.” He wraps strong arms around you and presses a kiss to your forehead as he holds you tightly.

Your mom comes home to you and Osamu on the couch, you with your head casually in Osamu’s lap as he combed his fingers through your hair. This wasn’t an uncommon sight, and your mom went straight into telling the two of you about her day.

“This patient was crazy, literally! He’s outside smoking a cigarette, meanwhile his blood sugar is through the roof! Like, this man is dead, he just doesn’t know it yet!” Your mom exclaims, slamming the door behind her.

“Hey, mom,” you greet, sitting upright. “Dinner’s ready whenever you want to eat.”

“We decided to wait on ya tonight,” Osamu added, standing up with a stretch.

“You two are too sweet,” she says, smiling widely. “You didn’t have to wait for me, you know I’m okay eating alone.”

“Well, I have some big news for after dinner, so I convinced Daddy to wait,” you say.

“Ooo, sounds exciting! Well, let’s eat so you can share your news!” Your mom says, excitedly.

The table is already set perfectly, plates of your mom’s favourites filling empty spaces and a bottle of her favourite wine in the center.

“Goodness! All my favourites? Y/n, you’re not trying to butter me up, are you? I’d almost think you were going to tell me you’re pregnant or something,” she says, taking a seat.

You and Osamu both let out forced laughter as you join her.

“It’s just what you deserve, Mom,” you say.

“Well, thank you, sweet pea,” she says, beaming at you. “And thank you, too, Osamu. I’m sure you cooked most of this.”

“It’s no problem,” Osamu says. “Let’s eat, yeah?”

“Itadakimasu.”

The three of you fill your plates and glasses, you pointedly turning down the wine your mom offers you. She gives you a look, but doesn’t say anything.

“So, what’s the news?” Your mom asks as she finishes her last onigiri.

You glance at Osamu.

“Mom, I’m pregnant,” you say.

“Pregnant?” Your mom asks. “Goodness, I-I need a minute.”

She steps out the back door, sliding the door shut behind her.

Osamu looks over at you. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” He asks. You nod.

“She’s handling it better than I thought,” you say. “I thought I’d be packing my bag right about now. I think I’m going to step outside with her.”

Osamu kisses your forehead before letting you walk out the back door.

Your mom is sitting on the porch swing, face in her hands.

“Mom?” You call. When she looks up, you can tell she’s been crying.

“How did this happen?” She asks.

“Didn’t think I’d have to explain the birds and the bees to you, Mom,” you tease, halfheartedly.

“Do you have some secret boyfriend I don’t know about?” She asks, ignoring you.

“It was just some dumb, one night stand,” you say, sitting next to her. “Hell, I can barely remember the guy’s face.”

The lies slip off your tongue easier than they would’ve before you and Osamu became involved. You think of every night you’d said you were staying with friends when you were really in some cheap motel with Osamu and wince.

“What’s his name?” Your mom asks.

“Does it matter?” You ask. “He won’t be involved at all.”

“Do you even know his name? God, I didn’t think you’d be so dumb,” your mom says. Her words hit like a punch to the gut.

“It was…” you hesitate. “It was a mistake.” As if anything you and Osamu had done was a mistake. The words taste like bile in your throat. “A dumb mistake.”

“We taught you better than to just sleep with random people. Or at least, I thought we did,” she spits. “At least let me know the name.”

“I’m not going to apologise for being human,” you say. “And I won’t be telling you the name.”

“You’ll tell me or you’ll leave,” she says. Her threat rolls off of you like water.

“Then I’ll leave,” you say, standing up. You open the back door.

“If you leave, don’t come back!” Your mom exclaims.

“Gladly!” You shoot back. You slam the door behind you. Osamu is immediately at your side.

“I’m leaving!” You exclaim. “I should just tell her the full truth, see how she likes that! She couldn’t blame me for it, after all, I’m too dumb!”

“The full truth?” Your mom asks, sliding the door open.

You turn on your heel to face her as Osamu stands between you two, ready for a fight to break out.

“Oh, you’d fucking hate it,” you taunt, crossing your arms. “It’s dirty and perverted and so fucking good!”

“You probably got knocked up by some pervert on the streets! That’s why you won’t tell me his name, you probably don’t even know it!”

“Miya Osamu!”

All three of you freeze.

“Huh?” Your mom blinks slowly. She looks at Osamu, then at you. “The. Two. Of. You? The father?”

Your mom seems to buffer as she continuously looks between you two.

“Get out.”

“Mom, wait, I can explain,” you beg, grabbing her hands. She jerks away from you. “I didn’t mean it!”

“You’re sick,” she says, lip curling. Her face pales as she looks at Osamu. “You raised her, you bastard! From a little girl! Oh my- oh my god, she calls you ‘daddy’.” Your mom’s face turns a sickening green. “You get off on that, don’t you, you sick fuck?! My daughter!”

“Mom, it’s not like-“ She cuts you off.

“Y/n, did he force you? Has he been grooming you this whole time?” She turns to face Osamu again. “Get out of here, you motherfucker!”

“Mom, I love him!” You shout. She freezes and robotically turns towards you.

“He raised you,” she whimpers. “He’s probably been grooming you since the day you met.”

“Mom, he’s never done anything I didn’t want,” you say. “I’m the one that controls the relationship.”

“I love her, too,” Osamu says, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “I know it���s sick, but I can’t help it.”

Your mom stays silent for a moment.

“I need you both out,” she says. “You can pack a bag but you both need to be out within the next fifteen minutes.”

“Mom, I’m sorry,” you say, wiping away a stray tear. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Give me time,” she says before retreating to her bedroom.

You sniffle as you wipe your face with your sleeve.

“Come on, let’s get you a bag packed. Atsumu already has his guest room set up for us. We’ll be okay, baby,” Osamu says, holding your shoulders. He kisses your forehead before leading you to your room.

Your mom doesn’t reappear until Osamu is already carrying your bag to the car.

“You’re my daughter, and I’ll always love you, Y/n,” she says, standing across the room from you. “But this isn’t something that we’ll be able to overcome. You and Osamu can get the rest of your things tomorrow while I’m at work, but I don’t want to see either of you again. Leave your keys on the table when you leave.”

“I’m sorry this happened,” you say, unable to stop your tears. “I really am, Mom. If I could change it, I would. I love you.”

“I hope you find happiness,” she says. Osamu’s hands land on your shoulders from behind and your mom’s face crumbles. “Goodbye.”

She watches you and Osamu leave the house. The lock clicks behind you as soon as the door closes.

“I wish this hadn’t happened like this,” Osamu says as he starts the car. You nod.

“I didn’t want to tell her like this,” you mumble. “She deserved the truth, but not like this.”

“I love you,” Osamu says, bringing your hand up to his lips. “I’m sorry this happened.”

“I love you,” you say, smiling sadly. “I guess I wouldn’t change it if that meant not having you.”

Atsumu’s apartment is much smaller than your mom’s house.

“There’s my favourite niece!” Atsumu exclaims, hugging you tightly and spinning you around before placing you back on the ground. “Or my favourite sister-in-law? I don’t care, yer my favourite girl.”

Despite how sad you feel, Atsumu manages to pull a genuine smile and laugh out of you.

“Uncle Tsumu!” You exclaim as Osamu passes you with your bags.

“Ah, so I still get to be Uncle,” he says, smiling. It doesn’t shock you with how nonchalantly Atsumu takes the news.

“Of course,” you say. “If Daddy still gets to be Daddy, you’re still Uncle.”

“Come on in, little one, let’s get ya out of the night air before the bugs get ya,” Atsumu says, leading you in.

Osamu already had your pajamas in hand when you walked in. After showering and changing quickly, you join the twins on the couch, squeezing in between them. Your hand ghosts over Osamu’s thigh before he grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers.

“So… I think it’s gonna to be a girl,” Atsumu says, draping his arm across your shoulders. “Any bets?”

“With our luck?” Osamu chuckles. “Twin boys.”

You rub your hand over your stomach. “I don’t really care one way or the other,” you say. “But I want twins.”

“What do ya think it’ll be?” Osamu asks.

“I think maybe one of each,” you say. “But that might just be wishful thinking.”

Atsumu let out a loud yawn.

“Well, it’s time for me to go to bed. I have practice in the morning. Help yerselves to anything in the fridge,” he says, standing up and stretching. “Let me know if ya need anything, little one.”

“Thanks for letting us stay here, Uncle Tsumu,” you say.

“Anything fer my favourite girl,” he says. He leans down and kisses your forehead. “G’night, little one.”

“Night,” Osamu says.

“Good night, Tsumu,” you say. Atsumu stumbles away with another yawn, leaving you and Osamu in the television-lit living room alone.

You climb into Osamu’s lap as soon as you hear Atsumu’s door click closed. He wraps his arms around you firmly and looks down at you.

“What do ya need, baby?” Osamu asks. “I know yer wantin’ something, baby girl.”

“I’m so tired, Daddy,” you say. You let out a small yawn. “I just want to be close to you.” You innocently shift in his hold, grinding against his soft dick. It twitches lightly.

“Ya wanna sit on Daddy’s cock, huh? Is that what ya want, sweetheart?” Osamu asks, rolling his hips. His cock hardens under you almost instantly.

“Yes, Daddy,” you moan softly. “Want your cock in me.”

“Yer such a naughty girl,” Osamu says. “Wantin’ yer daddy’s cock where Uncle Tsumu could walk in any minute.” You let out a small moan at the thought. “Oh? Ya want Uncle Tsumu to catch us? Want him to see Daddy filling up yer cute, little cunt? Or maybe you want Tsumu to fill ya up, huh, baby girl? Both of us at the same time, fillin’ both yer little holes so well.”

“Please, please,” you gasp, grinding against his thighs. “Wanna be full. So full, Daddy, please.”

“Such a little slut,” Osamu says, guiding your hips. “It’s not enough to fuck yer daddy, you wanna fuck yer uncle, too? Just tryin’ to get the whole family, huh?”

You nod. “Want Daddy and Uncle Tsumu!” You exclaim. Osamu claps a hand over your mouth.

“Uncle Tsumu is bein’ so nice t’ let us stay here and you wanna wake him up? I thought my little girl knew how to be polite,” Osamu says. Your thighs shake as a knot forms in your stomach.

“Daddy,” you whine, rolling your hips faster. “Close.”

“Is my baby gonna cum on Daddy’s thigh like a bitch in heat?” Osamu coos. “Come on, baby, cum on Daddy’s thigh like a good girl.”

“Daddy,” you moan. Osamu kisses you hard as you moan louder.

“Fuck, yer soakin’ me, sweetheart,” Osamu breathes as you cum on his thighs. You bite your lip to keep quiet. “Ya want Daddy’s cock now, sweetie?”

You nod. You stand on wobbly legs to kick your pajama shorts and panties off as Osamu pushes his shorts down just enough to reveal his heavy cock.

“Daddy, I wanna taste you,” you say, falling to your knees in front of him. “Please, Daddy, you look so good.”

“Go ahead, baby,” he says, patting your hair as you wrap your fingers around his hard cock.

You lean down to lick along the throbbing vein that runs down the left side of his cock before you take the purpling tip into your mouth.

“Fuck, good girl,” he hisses, tangling his fingers in your hair. He isn’t pushing down (yet), but his hands left no room to pull back. You circled the tip, moaning as a spurt of precum landed on your tongue.

“Come on, suck it like a good girl,” he grunts, forcing your head lower. You gag as he hits the back of your throat and Osamu lets out a long, low moan. “Might just fuck yer face since ya can’t listen.”

You place your hands on either of his thighs, signaling for him to go ahead with his plan.

“Oh, yer such a good girl for Daddy,” he groans. He holds your head in place as he thrusts into your open mouth, moaning when your throat tightens around his length.

“Fuck, so good,” he grits out. He pulls your head back and moans at the sight of your swollen lips and glassy eyes. “Tongue out.” Your jaw drops and your tongue lols out. He pats his cock against your tongue seconds before cum spurts out, landing on your lips and in your open mouth.

“Swallow for me, sweetheart,” he moans. You swallow the cum in your mouth before licking your lips for the extra that didn’t quite make it in your mouth.

“Wan’ your cock, please, Daddy,” you whine as Osamu wipes cum off your chin. He sticks his cum-coated thumb in your mouth and you suck it clean.

“Come ‘ere,” Osamu grunts, lifting you up into his lap. He slowly inched you down on his cock.

“More, Daddy, more,” you beg as he slowly bottoms out. “Fuck me.”

“Be good and sit on Daddy’s cock for a minute,” he says, wrapping his arms around you. He pulls you into his chest and rests his chin on your head.

You whine as you squirm around, trying to get Osamu to finally fuck you. He slaps your ass as you fidget.

“The more ya move, the longer we’ll stay like this,” Osamu says. “Now be good and be still.”

You pout as you relax into Osamu’s chest. It was agonising as his cock stretched you. Your walls were throbbing and fluttering around him, desperate for even the smallest movement.

“Daddy, please,” you beg, eyes burning with unshed tears. “I need you.”

Osamu presses down on your lower stomach where his cock was deep inside you. You moaned.

“Feel how deep Daddy is?” He breathes, thumb circling your clit. “Look how swollen ya look with just my cock. In a few weeks, you’ll be swollen with my baby.”

You moan. Osamu’s thumb moves faster on your clit.

“Daddy,” you whine. “I-I feel weird.”

“Hold on just a second, baby,” Osamu says. You gasp as he presses on your clit. The feeling in the pit of your stomach heightens. You almost feel like you’re going to explode.

You open your mouth to tell Osamu when he rolls his hips. You let out a loud moan as your juices squirt out, soaking Osamu’s shorts and part of his shirt.

“Fuck, look how messy ya are,” Osamu growls. You moan loudly as your pussy gushes again and you fall limp into Osamu’s chest, tears streaming down your face.

“Squirted all over Daddy like a good girl,” Osamu praises. His thumb hasn’t stopped and you still haven’t stopped cumming on his cock.

“Fuck,” Osamu growls. He grips your hips tightly and fucks into you roughly.

Your skin burns where his slaps against yours. You cry out as your head falls against his shoulder.

“So fuckin’ wet for me,” he grunts. The nasty squelching sounds only highlight his words. You moan as Osamu plays with your overstimulated clit.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” you cry as he fucks you.

“Open,” He orders. Your mouth drops open without a second thought as he shoves wet fingers down your throat. You gag as you suck on them. “Good girl.”

Tears stroll down your face as Osamu relentlessly thrusts into your cunt.

“Gonna fill yer sloppy, little, cunt up,” Osamu grunts. Your walls clench around him. “Oh, Daddy’s messy slut likes that, huh?” Your walls clench again.

“Fuck, gonna fill ya up,” he groans. His cock twitches deep inside you seconds before he cums.

“So good, daddy,” you moan as you ride him through his orgasm.

Osamu hisses once you’ve milked him dry, overstimulated and sensitive.

“How’d’ya like the show, Tsumu?” Osamu asks.

Your head jerks around to see Atsumu standing across the room, dick hard and heavy in his hands.

“Oh, it was great,” Atsumu says. “Liked that part at the beginning. Something about taking us both at the same time?”

#samu thoughts #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu smut #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya smut #miya osamu #cai writes #timeskip osamu #timeskip miya osamu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #miya osamu imagines #wmn?d

[janekfan]

Chronic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27802141

Thank you @taylortut for helping me!!!

Jon looked at the clock.

537.

The glowing numbers burned themselves into his retinas. How had it been less than an hour since last he’d checked? No use for it. Better to get himself up and ready for work. But he’d closed his eyes against the headache blaring like a klaxon and he’d have to open them again at some point.

Taking advantage of his lonely flat, Jon allowed himself to indulge the noise pushing its way through grit teeth as he maneuvered his sore legs from under the quilt. He sat a moment, pressing the bare soles of his feet on the cold floor and levering his heavy body upright with a shaking arm.

Exhausted.

And it’s only--a quick glance.

544.

The hell was wrong with him?

Since just before accepting the position as Head Archivist, and rightly pissing off both Sasha and Tim on her behalf, Jon felt like he’d been constantly coming down with something. Dizzy and nauseous and unable to eat, he was chronically exhausted and while he’d never slept well at the best of times, it was evading him more than ever.

And there were his mornings. Struggling to motivate himself out of bed, brushing his teeth with his eyes closed and leaning against the wall. Deciding he could forgo a shower just once more and choosing instead to make breakfast. Forcing himself to eat a piece of dry toast with his heart hammering away in his throat and half laying on the table, panting through his tea. Mentally, Jon prepared himself for the walk to the train, automatically going for his cane because lord knew he needed the support.

He’d get to the Institute hours early.

At least that made him look good?

Taking advantage of being a cane user, Jon opted for a reserved seat, the guilt at truly needing one eating away at his insides. But there were black spots at the corners of his vision and he had to sit down before he fell down and the guilt is a far sight better than causing a scene. The trip was too short. His chest ached from the constant pounding and he pressed the hand not holding his cane for dear life against his breastbone. It didn’t help but the pressure and touch grounded him enough to stand up. To head to the cross street. To wait for the lights to change. To stagger down the stairs and into his office, to drop into his desk chair and focus on every breath of air moving into his body and back out of it.

Jon put his head down. There was no one here. Wouldn’t be for a couple hours yet and he was exhausted, shaking from it. Nauseated. There wasn’t a fever. He’d gone as far as to purchase a thermometer to be certain when the strange symptoms refused to abate no matter how often he let himself rest, no matter the meals he tried his damndest to eat, the water he drank down. He was trying. Jon couldn’t remember ever taking such good care of himself and of course it refused to pay off. In Uni, he’d driven himself into the ground with little consequence. He’d maintained those habits until a few months ago and now--

Muffled voices drifted through his door, the rise and fall of easy conversation. The kind he’d once been allowed to partake in. Laughter filled the air and while Jon wished to join them he knew he wasn’t welcome.

Why had he done it?

Why hadn’t he refused Elias?

Because you’re selfish. You’ve always been selfish. Needy. Greedy, grasping, always striving to know answers and never satisfied with what you're given. You take what you don’t deserve.

Reluctantly, Jon stood, slowly, because doing anything quickly these days has him ducking his head between his legs or waking up on the floor without any recollection of how he came to be there. He could at least collect their research in person, greet them. Try to be the boss they deserved.

Sasha was the boss they deserved.

“Ah, g’good morning.”

“Jon!” Martin, smiling shyly. “You’re here so early!” He began to stammer and Jon’s legs began to ache. This wasn’t a good day. They seldom were anymore. “I m’mean, of course y’you are, you work very hard!” Martin was saved by Tim swinging an arm around his shoulders.

“You’ve broken ‘im, boss.” A flush rose in Jon’s cheeks. He could feel it. “No worries, Marto. He’s always been an early riser.” While it was said in jest, the tone settled heavy in Jon’s chest, directly beside the pain blossoming like a thorny rose. Luckily, he was rescued by Rosie, standing halfway down the stairs and informing him that Elias requested him in his office. Jon didn’t relish the climb, no matter how grateful he was to escape out from underneath Sash’s heavy gaze. She had every right and he would bear his punishment in silence until she chose, if she ever did, to forgive him.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Jon limped out of Elias’ office without any recollection of what they’d spoken about or if he’d even spoken at all. Thumping pain and panic and he knew he was rude to ignore Rosie at her desk but he wasn’t in any shape to hold a conversation, fairly certain that he wasn’t able to currently speak, far too focused on trying to hide how ill he was. But every sound was magnified tenfold in his ears and he could barely remember where the door to the archives was with the way his head reeled and spun. Jon wanted to sink to the ground once he had the door between himself and the lobby but he’d never make it to his feet again after that. Push through, he told himself. Get to your desk. He allowed himself a moment, two, just to put his head to rights, to try and breathe through the battering of his pulse.

And oh god he wasn’t going to make it and he wondered if somehow Elias knew. It was as though he’d kept him standing there talking about nothing until Jon hit his limit, knowing he wouldn’t have the strength to get back to his office.

But he had to try and he’d almost gotten down the ridiculously narrow stairwell before he forgot nearly entirely why he was there in the first place. Was he going up? Down? Meeting with someone? Just arriving? He could barely breathe and the panic welling in his throat was choking and the black was crawling over his eyes and the dizziness only increased and he needed...needed…

For a moment, Jon didn’t recognize where he was, the migraine, the fuzziness, conspiring against memory and reason. But he knew this color, the hideous lick of paint some contractor had splashed over the walls a lifetime ago.

Breakroom?

Wha--

“Jon!” He winced, his own name like broken glass shredding every sense to ribbons. “Christ, are you alright?” Martin, the sounds he made were shrill, grating, and if he’d been able to tell him to be silent, he would have. “We heard the noise--you’d, you fainted! On the stairs! Luckily it was only the last few.” Jon blinked, dull and dumb, forcing himself up, up, up, and through heavy mist and fog in his search for words. Weary to the marrow of his aching bones, Jon slumped on the cushions and tried to think of a way to stop Martin’s incessant chattering. Tim and Sasha, alerted most likely by all the commotion, stood over him and he craned his neck up to look at them. Tim especially looked furious.

“You could have been seriously hurt!”

“S’sorry…” And he was, between his rabbiting heartbeat, throbbing migraine, and difficulty drawing breath into his exhausted lungs, he wanted to cry with how sorry he was.

“This is ridiculous. You need to take better care of yourself.” Jon wasn’t sure why the sting from Tim’s accusation cut so deep and he hung his head, biting trembling lips to prevent the tears threatening to spring free.

It wasn’t fair.

By all accounts he was taking care of himself. More than ever!

“Did you even eat today? Drink anything?” He nodded, miserable, unwell, and equipped with no better answers than the truth.

“Tim. He’s just come to.” The understanding was the final straw, and Jon’s sight blurred with salt damp. “I’ll make sure he eats something before going back to work.”

“Alright, Martin. If he gives you any trouble, call.” At Jon, he pointed. “And you, no trouble.” And he nodded miserably.

“Okay, they’ve gone.” The familiar sounds of the kettle heating filled the room, the clink of a pair of ceramic mugs, the rustling of the tea bags, Martin’s distracted murmuring, all combined to calm him. “How long have you been feeling this way?” Jon looked up, surprised, and shrugged one shoulder, accepting the small plate of biscuits and nibbling slowly and when he finished those, Martin offered up the tea. Sitting with him in companionable quiet, he sipped on his own cup. Nothing more was exchanged and when Jon finished he thanked Martin for the company and locked himself away.

Jon was at wit’s end. Nothing he tried seemed to improve anything and the few times he did speak with a doctor, he was sent away with the same, useless advice, or worse, told he was imagining things, making it up, having panic attacks even though he was familiar with those and this was not that.

Work was a nightmare made even more miserable with the overwhelming amount of paperwork, statements, boxes, misfiled folders and envelopes and items and Jon missed the easy camaraderie and understanding he’d had with Sasha and Tim. Maybe he should resign, try and salvage what little of the relationship they still had, or, or invite them out for dinner, his treat, but Elias would never let him quit and the very idea of entertaining exhausted him. A cuppa appeared at his elbow filled with something new, something floral and slightly sweet, accompanied, as always, by a few biscuits.

“That’s a lot of work, Jon.” He sipped, grateful, lifting an eyebrow in response.

“I knew it would be when I accepted this position.” Undeterred, Martin stumbled forward.

“Y’yeah, I mean, you would have. Of course. I just--” A breath. “I’ve finished with my other assignments, ready for round, uh. Well, another round!”

“Ah. Alright, I’ll bring something over when I pick up your translations.” Martin took back the cup, nodding enthusiastically, and Jon appreciated that it was business as usual, selecting a few he’d been putting off and making his way toward his assistants ignoring inquiring looks in favor of taking the chair Martin offered up to go over his expectations. Short, succinct. A few notes on one translation, advice to remember for next time, and Jon felt reasonably confident Martin could handle himself. It wasn’t until he’d gotten back to his office that Jon realized that was the first time he’d been offered a chair. It was becoming apparent that Martin was good at noticing the little things about them. A blush heated his cheeks and he tried to rub it away, feeling ridiculous that such a small act of kindness made him feel so seen.

Jon pushed forward, ignoring the warnings his body was trying to give him in favor of plowing through his work like he’d always done, and by the time he made it home, was on the verge of collapse. Hot tears of frustration stung at the corners of his eyes, spilling over when Jon allowed himself to feel it. More than anything, he was used to having control over himself, working when he wanted, burying himself in the research, devouring knowledge. Now he was at the whim of his physical form. Paying more attention to it than ever before and never knowing if he was going to wake up and have a good day or a bad day and it was maddening. Managing whatever it was without knowing what it was, was impossible with no rhyme or reason he could discern.

So in the absence of both, Jon kept shoving his way through how difficult it was because if he could just be normal through pretending everything was normal, then it would be.

Jon knew Tim was cross with him and managed to avoid him for most of the day, taking breaks here and there like he’d promised Martin he would do. But his luck, while it had been holding steady, had just run out and he found himself cornered in the breakroom.

“What do you think you’re on about?” Frustration had long since turned to outrage, boiling over.

“Tim, I. I’m not sure what you mean--”

“Damn it, Jon! You’ve already taken on a job you aren’t fit for! You can’t keep heaping your work onto Martin and then swanning off!”

“That’s.” He balled his hands into fists, nails biting crescent moons into his palms. How could he explain when even the doctors thought he was making it all up? Heat rushed through him, top to toe, flushing his face and he wavered, legs threatening to buckle, vision threatening to go dark. He was going to pass out a second time today if he didn’t sit down. But that would mean walking away from Tim, and he didn’t think the man would let him. At least not until he was done telling him off. Better to be silent. Try not to pay attention to how erratic the persistent beating caged behind fragile ribs had become.

“Why didn’t you say no?” Because he wanted to be useful. Because Elias made him feel like he was capable even if he wasn’t. “Why didn’t you just let Sasha have this?” Because he was an awful, selfish person. “God, Jon. Why did you drag us all down here with you?”

Because he was lonely.

Because they’d been friends. Once.

Rather than remind Tim that he was free to go at any time, that he and Sash hadn’t been forced or coerced into accepting positions here in the archives, Jon pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Well?!” Sharp, strident, Tim’s shout echoed around in the space between his own hurting, agonal breaths in his ears.

“I. I, I need to si’down…” wanted to lay down. Wanted to sleep, trembling with exhaustion, about to go down.

“What?” Lashes fluttering as he gripped the thread of consciousness with both hands, he barely registered Tim’s hands around his shoulders, guiding him into a chair and pushing his head down between his knees. “Jon?”

“M’okay…”

“You are clearly not.” A wide palm settled on his back, keeping him folded over. It was helping.

“S’mm...been. S’fine.” The floor came back into focus, all the little cracks and imperfections and Jon counted the streaks in the pattern in an attempt to ground himself but kept losing track of the number. Neither moved until Jon attempted to sit up, slowly, accepting Tim’s help.

“Jon?” He looked spooked, pale. “Please, what’s going on?” His hand settled in the crux of shoulder and neck, thumb ghosting along his clammy skin, and Jon allowed himself to find a morsel of comfort in the familiar gesture, the threat of tears closer than ever. So he reached for him.

“I don’t know.” And Tim pulled away as if burned, the frustration and anger rising in his face again, and Jon was bereft. “T’truly! I--”

“Why won’t you be honest with me? Don’t you trust me?” Standing, he took a step backwards, away from him, the hurt in him a palpable thing. “We’re supposed to be friends!”

Yes. They were friends. It was most likely why for the first time in a long while, the pain in his chest wasn’t a physical ache.

“Tim, I.” Fingers folded to fists to rest on his knees. But he was already gone.

“Jon!” Tentative, Martin lifted his chin. “Oh, oh.” Having been crying, Jon figured his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy and he didn’t bother attempting to hide the evidence. “Alright.” Martin went about making tea, chamomile, herbal and calming, placing it before him on the table with a chocolate digestive. “Drink this down and then go home. It’s half six.”

“Mm.”

“Sleep will help.”

“Mm.”

“I could speak to them for you. If--”

“No!” All but shouted. “No. That won’t be necessary, Martin.” Carefully he stood, paused. “Thank you.” And left.

Jon called off.

Called off again.

Again.

Apologized to Elias in a curt email requesting leave and was granted it.

He ignored his phone. His texts. The knock at the door and Martin’s voice behind it. He slept when he was tired and he was tired often and it was easier besides, to finally listen to the screaming of his body. It was after hours on his fifth day gone when Tim let himself in with the spare key to Jon’s flat.

“Hey.” Sheepish, he held up his hands in surrender, a bag of takeaway from Jon’s favorite place dangling from one. “Martin said you wouldn’t let him in.” Dressed in the most comfortable clothes he had, which were also the shabbiest, Jon glared at him from where he laid on the couch. “I was an arse.” Slowly, he sat up, making Tim wait on purpose, a powerful frown still aimed in his direction.

“You were.” He was aware he looked a mess, greasy hair pulled back in a sloppy bun, but he felt a sight better for the rest he’d gotten.

“Would you accept an apology?” Folding his arms, Jon leaned back into the cushions and fixed his stare at whatever rubbish was on the telly.

“Might do.” Silently, Tim scurried into the tiny kitchen and Jon listened to the familiar sounds of him rooting around for cutlery. It smelled delicious and comforting, a reminder of nights spent together laughing at nothing on this same couch and despite himself, Jon began to relax.

“I’m sorry.”

“Alright.” Tim’s face split in a wide, relieved grin, and he flopped down next to him, planting a loud kiss to his temple before urging him to eat. “Martin sent you here.”

“An angry Marto is not to be trifled with.” Through a mouthful of noodles, Tim chuffed in laughter. “Wouldn’t tell me anything, other than to stop being a prick.”

“He did not.”

“He did not. But it was more than implied!” He put his bowl on the low table in front of them, sitting forward with his hands dangling between his knees. “And he was right. I didn’t give you a fair shake and accused you of awful things. And I know you’re doing your best at this job.”

“Gertrude isn’t making it easy.”

“Neither is your health, I take it.” Jon set his own meal aside, curling into the padded arm.

“No. It isn’t.”

“And you don’t know what’s causing it?”

“I know some things that help. M’Martin has been invaluable.”

“Has he, now?”

“Leave off!”

“Okay, okay.” But he continued giggling as Jon felt his face go hot, muttering.

“He really has.” This time Tim pulled him gently into an embrace.

“Then Sash and I will just have to catch up.”

#tma #the magnus archives #jon sims #tim stoker #martin blackwood #sasha james #cane user jon sims #archivist with a cane #chronic illness #undiagnosed #pots #fainting #exhaustion #anxiety #hurt/comfort #internalized ableism

[northcarolinanative]

𝐓𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐚

Requested by Anon from this list: can I request a JJ prompt with nr 19 ('One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss')?

A/N: Hey Guys!!! This one is kinda short, but I love it:) Let me know what you think. , it isn’t edited, so sorry for the typos. As always my inbox/asks/messages are open so tell me what your thinking:) 

It had been one of the toughest days that I’d had in a while. Things at work just didn’t seem to have gone in my favor, I got in a huge fight with my mom over something dumb, and I felt like complete and utter shit. I was sat on the dock of the Chateau, my home away from home, as it was for the rest of the pogues, with a bottle of tequila in my right hand and the black metal Juul in the other. The small light on it illuminating the air around me as I took a long hard hit, letting the menthol cool the path from my mouth to my lungs. The tears that welled in my eyes was made it harder to focus on the positive thoughts on my mind. The negative ones seeming so much stronger tonight than they have been in a while. 

“Woah there” I voice call from behind me as I let the bottle fall from its upside-down position over my mouth. I felt my face twist in into a grimace as a reaction to the harsh burn on the tequila making its way down to my stomach. I heard the soft padding of feet behind me before JJ made himself comfortable in the seat right beside me. His arm and leg brushing against mine as he sat. “Tequila?” He questioned with a laugh.”Must have been one hell of a day?”  He reached out taking the bottle from me. 

“Hey!” I protested, leaning over to try and grab it back. Everything around me started to spin at my current actions as my hold on the dock slipped and I fell forward, straight into JJ’s lap. Before I could fall into the water JJ stopped me, his free hand wrapping around my upper body, pulling me into him. I heard him set the bottle down, and helped me to sit back upright. 

“Maybe you’ve had enough? Yea?” He smiled, picking the bottle up once more, but this time taking his own few swigs. I rolled my eyes, letting him finish up his own drinking. I stared at the dark ocean that was laid in front of us, the darkness of the night making the water appear a thick black. I felt a shiver run down my spine as the breeze coming off the ocean was chilling. 

“Come here,” JJ said throwing an arm around my shoulders. The thing about JJ and I was that we were friends, but there was always this unspoken tension between the two of us. Nothing that made either one of us uncomfortable, just more so the kind that heightened all of my senses around him. It was way that his thumb was lazily drawing mindless patterns into my shoulder, or the way that his arm was slung so carelessly around my shoulder was warming me up in a way that made the butterflies in my stomach fly around in nauseating circles. Maybe it was the alcohol that was running through my veins forcing the heated red blush to creep up my cheeks at his simple actions. 

“You gonna tell me what all of this is about?” JJ asked, his face turning towards me so I could practically feel his breathy voice on my ear. I was thankful for the darkness that surrounded us so that it could hide the deepening blush of my cheeks. 

“It was just a really bad day.” I sighed, allowing myself to lean my head against JJ’s shoulder. I was surprised to feel him rest his atop mine. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He questioned, his voice still soft. 

“Just feels like everything that went wrong could have gone wrong, you know?” I said not really wanting to get into it. I moved my head so that I was facing JJ now. Looking him right in his blue eyes, that seemed to be filled with worry. ‘Don’t look at me like that either J.” I said rolling my eyes. 

I was able to see the look of confusion behind his face, as he quickly smiled. “What I can’t care about you?” He joked, but the moment became much more serious as he looked me in the eye. I felt like he could see right into my soul. I didn’t often feel weak or broken, but at that moment I did. I felt like I was shattering, and JJ Maybank was the only one that could use the glue. Something stronger than me took over in that moment. I let my gaze focus on the way that his lip was pulled between in teeth in worry, or the way that his soft blue eyes were scanning over my face. 

I went for it, pressing my lips against his. I felt every bit of the tension that had been held between the two of us over the past few years. The kiss was short, as JJ was frozen. I poured my heart into the kiss, only to pull away, mortified, as I looked at JJ. He leaned back away from me as I let my eyes line with tears, the realization set in. 

I took a deep, shaky, breath before I moved away from JJ. I realized that his rigid arm was still around me. “I- I am so sorry.” I started, as I began to move. 

“No no. I-” He used his arm around my shoulder, the other moving to cup, my now tear-stained cheek, forcing me to look at him. His eyebrows knitted together, as he seemed to be searching my eyes for something. 

“Can we just forget about this or-” 

I was cut off by JJ, “Do you want to do this? Like this isn’t because you’re drunk or you’re upset? It’s because you really want this?” He questioned. My heart dropped when his voice broke in the last sentence. 

I answered his question by once again pressing my lips into his. This time the butterflies erupted in my stomach the moment I felt his lips move against mine, in a fast, passionate kiss. His arm stayed wrapped around me, his hand still cupping my face pulling me impossibly close to me. I was completely and utterly wrapped up in the feeling of JJ. I let my hands run through his hair, as we continued to kiss, the wind blowing, chilling the air around us, causing us to only want to pull one another closer. 

I pulled away letting my forehead rest against JJ’s “There is no way I would ever not want to do this” I said with a smile.

Masterlist

#jj outer banks #jj fic #jj x reader #jj imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fic #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank x you #outer banks #outerbanks imagine #obx #obx imagine #obx netflix #outerbanks #outerbanks netflix #outer banks imagine #outer banks netflix #outer banks pogues #pogue life #pogue style #jj fluff #jj request

[aylinaliens]

The Not So Scary Haunting of Sarawat Guntithanon— Chapter 1

Fandom: 2Gether

Pairings: Sarawat/Tine

Summary: Sarawat Gay Panics 24/7 over his new roommate (who, by the way, might be a ghost, which is weird on so many levels but whatever, if a man wants to thirst over the supernatural being haunting his apartment so be it!)

Word Count: 1621

Notes: i'm not even excited for 2gether the movie yet here i am, posting another sarawatine fic. basically our boy Sarawat gay panics every single minute of every single day because the ghost who is haunting his apartment is pretty. that's it. that's the plot. just sarawatine being dumb, mutually pining idiots.

Read the first chapter on Ao3 or down below!

+

How was it possible that a disembodied voice could sound so... god damn enticing and lovely? At first, Sarawat found himself pressing his body deeper into his bed but after getting over to his initial shock and fear he allowed himself sometime to appreciate the sound of it. Although his heart was in his throat, Sarawat could not deny the wave of comfort that filled his veins, from his finger to his toes warm spread through his body.

Which was weird—and frankly crazy. Ghosts can possess people, right? Or kill them? Sarawat wished he paid more attention to all the horror movies Man and Boss dragged him to because maybe then he wouldn’t be laying in bed, already whipped, ready to drop down on knee. Hand in marriage sir, please give me your hand in marriage.

He should be terrified of this figure, not lowkey turned on.

Curse Sarawat and his inability to function around attractive boys. Curse this motherfucking hot as heck ghost and his stupid dimples.

Sarawat awakes to a blurry and translucent figure hovering mere inches from his face.

The next day he swears to Man and Boss that the reason he remains frozen was because of fear and not because he was having a full on gay panic attack... over a ghost. That’s what this person was, right? A ghost? He was a rationale adult but he had enough brain cells to connect all the dots.

Sarawat sucks in a deep inhale of breath, allowing his eyes to burn every line, curve, and dip of this mysterious figure's face.

The dim light of his bedroom combined with the near translucent nature of the figure meant that Sarawat never was able to get a clear idea of what this ghost looked like. Just the glimpses he did get left his throat dry and heart pounding rapidly.

The figure had a closed mouth smile etched across his features, all soft pink lips and crinkly eyes and dimples. Sarawat briefly thought of leaning forward to press his fingertips against those pink lips just to see if they were as soft as they looked. But then he realized that was insane and weird so instead he just beat that thought away with a stick. Gay thoughts: be gone! Don’t you dare become a simp over a motherfucking ghost.

The bottom half of his face was crystal clear which was both a blessing and curse while his top half looked as if it was about to flicker away at any moment. Sarawat was positive that this was abnormal, but then again this was his first encounter with a ghost so maybe it was, in fact, normal? It’s not as if he was given a manual or anything.

He couldn’t quite tell what shade of brown this mysterious figures eyes but he allowed his brain to imagine that it was probably vivid, just like the rest of his face. He was debating on the actual shade when he a disembodied voice spoke.

“Hello.”

How was it possible that a disembodied voice could sound so... god damn enticing and lovely? At first, Sarawat found himself pressing his body deeper into his bed but after getting over to his initial shock and fear he allowed himself sometime to appreciate the sound of it. Although his heart was in his throat, Sarawat could not deny the wave of comfort that filled his veins, from his finger to his toes warm spread through his body.

Which was weird—and frankly crazy. Ghosts can possess people, right? Or kill them? Sarawat wished he paid more attention to all the horror movies Man and Boss dragged him to because maybe then he wouldn’t be laying in bed, already whipped, ready to drop down on knee. Hand in marriage sir, please give me your hand in marriage.

He should be terrified of this figure, not lowkey turned on.

Curse Sarawat and his inability to function around attractive boys. Curse this motherfucking hot as heck ghost and his stupid dimples.

Sarawat was like ninety percent sure of his sexual identity but now he was having a crisis about the fact he was possibly crushing on a whole new species. Needless to say he was losing his mind!

He could just imagine the headline of the video Man would inevitably make him sit down to film and post on their jointed YouTube channel.

STORYTIME: I ALMOST MADE OUT WITH THE GHOST THAT'S HAUNTING MY APARTMENT!

Sarawat was positive that his best friend would insert various memes and jokes throughout his very honest and real existential-slash-moral-slash- philosophical crisis Sarawat was having.

It would probably rake in a lot of views but Sarawat did not want to be known as That One Guy Who Simped Over A Ghost for the rest of his life.

He was almost positive that if he told his friends the trust extent of how he felt, they would want to change their channel from music and vlogs to something more akin to Buzzfeed Unsolved.

They would buy a spirit box and Ouija board online and force Sarawat to try to communicate because of course they fucking would, those absolute menaces.

He could already see Boss glancing around like a conspiracy theorist, seriously asking the ghost are you DTF (that means down to fornicate in case you need clarification), Mr. Ghost? Just give us a sign, any sign. Man would most definitely feed into this or make the situation even worse.

Which is why he was not going to reveal what happened tonight. He would just play off as sleep paralysis. Yeah. That is the best way to prevent his best friends from blowing this situation out of proportion.

Sarawat wanted to say something but the words died in his throat. What would he even say? Hello. Please smash your face against mine! Uh, no way in hell. Maybe it was a good thing that he had trouble forming words right now. It would save him a lot of embarrassment.

The figure leaned down closer and— fuck fuck fuck gay thoughts go away— peering curiously down at Sarawat. “He definitely can see me so why isn’t he saying anything?”

Because you can’t verbally keysmash in real life you beautiful and vaguely threatening supernatural being.

The figure hummed, deep in thought, before leaning back (thank goodness) only to do something that made Sarawat let out a very unflattering shriek in surprise. Well there goes his reputation. He didn’t have one in the first place to begin with, especially not with this ghost, but still. There it goes.

Ghosts were unable to touch people right? Right? So why did a ghost...just touch him?

Sarawat raked his brain trying to remember the drama he watched a few months back with his brother (it was Phukong unsubtle way of being like, hey, bro, I like boys but I’m still scared of coming out so let’s just both pretend like I didn’t just cry at the scene where Ohm Pawat’s character comes out to his mother, I swear I’m emotional because of the acting not because I can relate to it).

Sarawat was positive that the ghost in that drama couldn’t actually touch anyone. He was like ninety-six percent sure that every time he tried his body would just go straight through the other characters.

He forgot how it was possible that the ghost could touch, and kiss, the human, though. He should have paid more attention but hey, he was also trying to think of an inconspicuous way to let it slip that he was also gay. Great (disaster gays) apparently think a lot alike.

Anyways, the figure poked his chest and Sarawat almost pissed his pants in shock. Clearly the ghost was just as surprised that he could actually touch Sarawat because he froze, making Sarawat happy that he decided to wear a shirt to bed tonight.

He assumed that the ghost must have thought he was dreaming to (wait can ghost dream?) so just to make sure he poked Sarawat three more times in the same spot and yup—Sarawat felt it. He felt it clear as day.

“Oh.” The figure tilted his head to the side. “This is weird. I shouldn’t be able to do that.”

Yeah, obviously.

Sarawat opened his mouth to finally speak (he swore he was going to play it cool and be all like: hi! i promise i’m not having gay thoughts right now!) but before he could a loud crash in the next room made him jolt in surprise.

After being rendered motionless for a few minutes, Sarawat finally gained control of his own body. He threw himself upright into a sitting position but in the process of doing so he accidentally slammed his forehead against the figure whose face was technically still in close proximity.

Cursing, Sarawat clutched his head as pain made white spots cloud his vision. “ Fuck .”

From next to him the figure cursed too. “ Shit.”

Eventually the pain subsided into a dull ache, allowing Sarawat to glance over at the boy—ghost, supernatural being, angel, whatever—next to him.

The top half of his face was no longer translucent anymore.

In fact, he wasn’t translucent at all.

Crimson blood began to trickle out from his nose, causing Sarawat to gape in horror.

Not because the image was a terrifying one. I mean, yeah, it was a bit weird but it has been established that Sarawat, that certifiable himbo, was in a constant state of ‘mark me down as scared and horny’ tonight, but because a ghost...was bleeding. From a wound that Sarawat gave him. Was that like, scientifically possible? Note to self: send a text to Earn so that she can ask her girlfriend about it.

Also? Sarawat was finally able to label the ghost's eyes as being a cross between honey and caramel. Obviously, his poor gay started chanting oh oh oh oh oh because yeah, read above, Sarawat Guntithanon? Himbo, Simp, Dumbass Extraordinaire. Either way he was a mess.

The possible brain injury and the shock of the entire night finally caught up to Sarawat, making his stomach churn with nausea and vision become blurry.

Without meaning to, Sarawat fainted—not even elegantly like one of those heroines in a romance novel but like a dead, fucking fish, limbs flopping every which way—right into the arms of the mysterious figure he was still dying ( yikes bad choice of words) to know the name of.

The last thing he registered before completely blacking out was that someone was cradling him to their chest, rambling away.

“Oh my god. Did I just kill him? No. No way. He’s still breathing. Shit. Sarawat! Hey, you saraleo, wake up!”

#2gether #2gether the series #still2gether #sarawatine #sarawatine fic #sarawat guntithanon #tine teepakorn #sarawat x tine #thai bl #bl fic #jdsdlkf whipped!wat and equally whipped!tine is my favorite so i had to write this #also this is inspired by he's coming to me but very vaguely

[sonicgetsrawed]

Revelations and Decisions

Le part two of the Varian is captured by Donella fic! Gotta hand it to ya anon you know how to pick them prompts! This is going to be four parts in total! Yes is was supposed to be a oneshot, no I’m not mad. We’ll get you that happy ending damn it!  Enjoy! 

It had taken him too long to come to the startling revelation of where his loyalties lied. The longer Donella talked, the longer he stayed, the more he felt his heart breaking. He shouldn’t feel this way, it should’ve been fine. He had worked for Donella almost his whole life, hell he owed her his life, but this felt wrong. Not in the way that he knew what he was doing was wrong, he didn’t care if he what he was doing was right or wrong to others, it felt wrong in a different sense. A terrible knot formed in the pit of his stomach, a feeling of guilt. It was a foreign feeling, something’s hadn’t felt in ages, and yet it was there. He wanted it to go away, he had known what he was supposed to do from the beginning, he was the only one to blame. But he wasn’t the only one to suffer the consequences, was he? For the first time he was seeing the consequences first hand, seeing the hurt he caused, seeing the destruction at his hands. He couldn’t do anything to fix it, how could he when it was never whole to begin with? Why did he feel so broken, then? Why did he hurt so much? Why did this feel wrong?

“....what do you want?” He didn’t hear what else Donella was saying, only catching the last words. Those were the only ones that mattered, weren’t they?

What did he want? Usually he just took what he wanted, but this was different. He wanted to stay in what was familiar, he wanted Varian, he wanted to know what he wanted. He always wanted what he couldn’t have. And right now what he wanted more than anything was space. “I-I need some air.”

Donella didn’t protest, so he pushed back from the table making his way into the cool night air. It didn’t help as much as he thought it would, only clouding his mind further. The stars reminded him of Nuru’s dress. Were her and Yong safe? Were they scared? Knowing Nuru she was already devising a plan, already searching for him and Varian. How would they react to his betrayal? He brought his eyes up to the sky, a shooting star flying by. He snorted at the irony of it, a symbol of hope here in his darkest hour.

“You’re supposed to make a wish!” Varian had laughed, the sound softer than normal since they were the only two up.

“Seems kinda dumb.” He had responded, he’d say the same thing now.

“It’s not. That’s how I got Ruddiger. I wished for a friend.”

Hugo closed his eyes, maybe it could work for him too, maybe he could have what he always wanted, maybe he could have a family. But he already had one, didn’t he, Donella had been his family once, now he wasn’t sure. He hadn’t felt as safe, as free to be himself, around her as he did around Varian and the others. He forced his eyes open, a stupid wish wasn’t going to fix his problems, he needed to do it himself. He made a decision, the first decision he made in his life that wasn’t for himself, that provided him no benefit. He wanted to wake up from this terrible dream and no one was going to help. So he woke himself up.

It had been surprisingly easy to slip a sleeping tonic into Donella’s and whatever thug she had hired for the week drinks. He grabbed the keys and made his way to Varian’s cell. He stopped in front of it, hesitating, slinking back into the shadows where he belonged, where he felt safe. Varian looked worse than he could’ve possibly imagined. He hadn’t been able to force himself to look at him for too long before. And now he was forced to face his consequences head on. Varian’s eyes were dull, red rimmed and still shining with unshed tears, dark circles hanging heavily underneath them. They stared blankly into the shadows, if he positioned himself just right it looked like they were bearing into his soul, dragging up all his secrets, suffocating him with his own lies. Varian was sitting upright, his hands still trapped behind him. He was shaking, breath hitching in his chest every so often. Tear tracks stained his cheeks, some of the blood from the cuts on his cheek smeared and dried, an angry bruise underneath the cuts. Sweat made his bangs cling to his forehead, most likely from the panic attack he inevitably suffered from, the attack he had gone through alone, all because he had allowed this to happen. He knew what Varian’s attacks could be like, he’d comforted him through some of them and now he had caused one. He could still turn back, leave Varian in his misery, the old him would’ve, the old him wouldn’t even be here right now. Unfortunately, fortunately, Varian had changed him, he couldn’t turn back, he needed to own up to his mistakes, he needed to make them right. So he took a step out of the shadows, heading towards the light, his light.

Hugo’s resolve broke as soon as Varian flinched violently at his presence. He deserved that, he deserved the anger behind Varian’s eyes. “Come to gloat?” The bitterness that seeped into his voice was exactly how he imagined the younger sounded throughout his time as a criminal. All the hurt evident behind it despite the sharpness of the actual words.

“No, I-“

Varian’s laugh sounded crazed, broken, no mirth in it what so ever. “Don’t.” He snapped his eyes up, the harsh blue clashing with his green. “Whatever you have to say I don’t want to hear it.”

He deserved that too. He didn’t deserve to be given the time of day, but he needed to get Varian out of here and to do so he needed his cooperation. He bent down next to him, scooting closer to Varian in order to undo the chains. Varian just moved away. “I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I’m trying to help you.”

“Help me? How does any of this help me?!” Varian snarled, bringing his foot to Hugo’s chest in an effort to keep him from coming closer. It was an awkward position and he probably wouldn’t be able to hold it for long.

“If you would just-“

“Just what? Didn’t you already get what you wanted? What else can you take from me?” Varian was seething, and honestly Hugo didn’t know what hurt more having Varian angry at him or the sobbing mess he’d been earlier. His heart tore at the thought. No, angry was definitely better, he could deal with angry, hell he was angry. He was angry at himself for letting things go as far as they did, angry at Donella for hurting Varian, angry at himself for hurting him too. So like the idiot he was, he took that anger out on Varian.

“That’s enough, Varian! Would you stop being so stubborn and listen to me for one second?!” He regretted the words as soon as they left him mouth, Varian’s eyes were wide in fear for a fraction of a second and Hugo knew he wasn’t present, his mind slipping into a different time. The emotion faded as quickly as it came, anger taking over his features once again, leaving Hugo with all the guilt.

“Fuck you! Get the fuck away from me right now!” Varian’s voice broke, shoulders shaking with fresh sobs. “Are you fucking happy now, Hugo? Is this what you wanted? You won.”

Hugo’s hand hovered uselessly over Varian’s shoulder. What could he say to that? Nothing would ever be enough. No words could convey how he was feeling, how he felt, how every passing second he felt another crack forming along his fragile heart. This wasn’t a win, this was far from it. He had lost for the first time in his life, fully and truly lost. There was no fixing this, no path to forgiveness, no happy ending for him. He’d been foolish to wish for one on that stupid star, things like that didn’t happen for people like him.

“Hugo?” Varian’s voice was softer this time, concerned. Why was he concerned? His blue eyes were wide, frantically searching his for something he didn’t know, an answer he couldn’t provide. “You’re crying.”

He tilted his head to the side. What an odd thing for Varian to say. He wasn’t even crying, he couldn’t be, he didn’t cry. He brought his hand to his face, fingers coming back wet. Oh, he was crying. It was strangely freeing, he felt lighter somehow, as he wrapped his arms around himself, now that he was aware of the action he couldn’t stop the flow of tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He repeated the words like a mantra, like repeating them would earn Varian’s forgiveness, that he’d regain his trust. He couldn’t stop them, like he couldn’t stop the tears. All he knew in that moment were the tears, pain, and those words. And then the pain cleared, for a second, for a blissful second, Varian leaned against him, an awkward attempt at a hug. It was all he could manage with his arms still behind him, but it was more than Hugo deserved. He cried harder, wrapping his arms around Varian as he cried shamelessly into his shoulder. It was humiliating and liberating at the same time.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, he knew it was too long, the sleeping tonic would be wearing off any moment now. As much as he didn’t want to he pulled away from Varian, the warmth disappearing as well, he wiped the stray tears from his face and removed his backpack. He moved to unlock the chains, purposely not meeting Varian’s eyes. “The totems are all there. You can count them if you want. If you head right it’ll lead you out. I’ll hold off Donella as long as I can.”

The chains clattered to the floor, Varian rubbing his sore wrists as soon as they were free. Hugo pretended it didn’t hurt when he looked through the bag and counted the totems. Varian standing and adjusting the straps, before heading to the exit. “Can I ask you why you did it? Why help now?”

“Because I love you too.” Hugo didn’t hesitate in his answer, it was the one thing he was sure of.

Varian flinched, fist clenching at his side. “She’ll kill you when she finds out.”

“Then I’ll get what I deserve.” He responded, he accepted that fate.

Varian hesitated glancing between him and the exit, a war raging in his head. He surged forward suddenly, pulling Hugo up. “I thought that once, but someone thought different. I-I can’t forgive you, but I can’t let you die either. You can stay with us until we get to Corona. From there you’re on your own.”

Hugo nodded numbly, it was more than fair, he couldn’t expect Varian to forgive him, he’d never forgive himself. So he followed Varian, like the moon in this never ending night. And maybe, just maybe, he would get a second chance.

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#tangled the series #varian #varian/hugo #hugo #varigo #varian and the seven kingdoms #angst #a smidge of comfort #like blink and you’ll miss it

[idnek83]

Aid - Chapter 2/13

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Soda Kazuichi/Tanaka Gundham

Tags: Alternate Universe - Island Mode, No Game Spoilers, Masturbation,  Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Grinding, Wet Dreams, Anal Fingering,  Friends With Benefits,  Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, Anal Sex

Summary: Everyone is hot and half naked because of their beach vacation. Soda is horny and tries to do something about it. Gundham tries to help and does. It all gets a little out of hand.

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

Read on Ao3

This Chapter: Soda isn't really sure where he stands with Gundham right now, but he's not going to worry about it. The boys bond over hamsters.

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All in all, things had been way less awkward than Soda thought they would be.

After catching his breath and cleaning up the mess Soda had made on his stomach, Gundham simply left the beach house, stating that he needed to “construct fortifications worthy of The Four Dark Devas of Destruction,” grabbing a bucket and small plastic shovel on his way out of the storage room.

Soda had given himself a moment to think about how weird, and maybe slightly cute, Gundham was for making his hamsters a sandcastle, before leaving out the back door of the beach house.

After that he didn’t see Gundham again until dinner, where he took the seat beside Soda silently and began to eat his meal.

This caught Hajime’s attention, and when he asked about it Gundham spoke up for the first time that meal.

“Kazuichi has elected to ally his body with mine on my dark crusade through this mortal realm. Is it so unnatural that I deign to be near those who I consider my confidants?”

‘Ally his body with mine’? Did Gundham actually just admit to everyone that they had… we’ll they didn’t really fuck, but they had gotten each other off and that was still super awkward to just announce in the middle of a group dinner.

“Oh, so you two are buddies now then?” Akane offered through a mouthful of meat.

Sonia, who seemed to have the uncanny ability to perfectly understand what Gundham was saying at least 50% of the time, narrowed her beautiful eyes and raised a perfectly shaped brow, her gaze shifting between the two of them.

“Uh, yeah. Haha, you got a problem with us being bros, Hajime? Promise I’ll always make time for my soul buddy, so ya don’t gotta be jealous.” Soda forced an exaggerated laugh to try to hide how nervous he felt under Sonia’s stunning gaze. “So, uh, anyways, Hajime, who ended up winning that game of chicken?”

With the topic safely changed the rest of the dinner was pretty unremarkable, aside from Soda constantly replaying what Gundham had said in his mind, and trying to figure out just what exactly the fuck he had meant. It had to be just weird Gundham speak for ‘we’re bros now’ right? There’s no way he would just come out and tell everyone they got each other off, even in his weird cryptic way of speaking, right?

Everyone ended up just heading back to their cabins after dinner, and Soda found himself sleeping better than he had since they arrived on the island.

When they met up for breakfast the next day Gundham sat next to him again, bantering with their classmates in the same strange way he usually did, no strange maybe-confessions of hooking up to be heard. Soda relaxed and let himself join the conversation like normal.

The rest of the day passed without note, Soda spent most of it fiddling with various knickknacks he had found around the island and wishing he could have brough his bike to work on instead. When dinner rolled around Gundham once again took his seat beside Soda, and he accepted that this was just the way it was gonna be from now on.

Except that now he’s been sitting in the hotel restaurant for like 20 minutes, having finished his breakfast a while ago, and the seat beside him is still empty.

Where the hell was Gundham?

Well whatever, dude can do what he wants, it’s not like they made a promise to eat together or anything.

Soda picked up his plate and took it over to the kitchen to be washed later. When he turned around Gundham was behind him.

“Shit!” Soda jumped back before calming down a bit “D-don’t fucking do that man, you scared me.”

“Apologies, my companion. I did not mean to frighten you, it had slipped my mind just how dulled mortals’ senses are. I will be sure to alert you of my presence next time.”

Soda rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed by how startled he had been. “Whatever dude. Where were you anyways? You missed breakfast.” Right when he had just gotten used to him being there too.

“Ah, I must apologize again.” Gundham actually bowed slightly this time. “I was cleansing impurities from the lairs of my Dark Devas, and it would appear that I fell prey to some fiendish time anomaly.”

Cleaning his hamster cages and lost track of time, got it.

Gundham stood upright again. “However, now that the Devas’ lairs have been properly cleansed, it would be safe for a mortal such as yourself to lay eyes on them.”

Gundham seemed to be waiting for Soda to say something. Oh, was that his way of inviting him to check out his hamster cages? Soda didn’t really know a lot about caring for hamsters, so he wouldn’t mind going back to Gundham’s room and-

Oh.

Gundham’s room.

Shit was Gundham propositioning him? It was still pretty early, but maybe Gundham was more of a morning guy when it came to getting off. Ok, yeah, he could work with that.

Soda could feel himself blushing. “S-sure.”

Gundham simply raised an eyebrow.

Right he didn’t actually ask Soda to come ‘look at his hamster cages,’ he just heavily implied that Soda should ask him if he could ‘look at his hamster cages.’

“Right, I mean, if it’s safe and whatever do you think I could take a look at your ham- uh, Devas’ lairs?”

“If that is your wish, I will accompany you their lairs once I have found sustenance.”

Right, you shouldn’t bone on an empty stomach. That’s probably a thing people say, right?

“Cool, I’ll just, uh, be in my room then. So just come get me once your… sustained?” Look, he was trying alright?

Gundham spared him a nod before moving to find his own breakfast. Then Soda left the hotel to go sit in his room like a dumbass who definitely should have just stayed in the hotel cus what the fuck was he gonna do in his room for the like 10 minute it would take Gundham to eat?

He entered his cabin and flopped onto his bed. Should he like, put on sexy underwear or something? Did he own sexy underwear? All his boxers fit him pretty much the same, and even if they were slightly different, they were all covered in similar random splashes of neon colors, so none of them really seemed any sexier than the others.

What the fuck were you supposed to do while waiting for a hookup? He couldn’t, like, get things started on his own cus he still had to walk over to Gundham’s cabin and he wasn’t gonna risk getting caught with a hard-on again. He wasn’t sure if he had enough time to shower either… not that it’d really matter since he’d just be getting all hot and sweaty again soon anyways...

Nope, can’t think about that right now, still have to make that walk.

Soda stood and walked over to the mirror in the bathroom. He combed out his hair with his fingers, fiddled with his braid, and checked his teeth for food. Great, he had killed like 30 seconds.

Why was he so nervous damnit! They had already seen each other naked, hell he had Gundham’s dick in his mouth! He swallowed his cum! There was nothing to be nervous about!

Unless… what if Gundham wanted more this time? Soda hadn’t really thought too much about actual sex with a dude yet. Like, what exactly would Gundham expect him to do? Would he be into it if Gundham put his dick in his-

There was a knock at the door and Soda jumped.

Shit, no more time to think about it.

Soda opened the door, kinda hoping it wasn’t actually Gundham who had knocked, but there he was, in all his weird, handsome glory.

“H-hey.” It would be rude to back out now, right? Like they had that whole pact thing Gundham had mentioned so…

“I have reconstituted this mortal shell, so let us make haste. The Devas have granted you access to their lairs, Kazuichi, it would not do to make them wait.” Gundham turned and walked away.

Ok, shit, he could do this, he’d be fine. He didn’t even actually know if Gundham was gonna try to fuck him, like, they were probably just gonna mess around again, right?

Soda took a deep breath, slowly exhaled and followed Gundham to his cabin.

Once inside Soda made sure to lock the door behind himself. He needed a moment, so he pressed his head against the solid wood of the door and took another deep breath.

“Are you unwell, my companion?” Ok yeah, Gundham was gonna notice that and he was dumb for not realising it.

“I’m good, just-“

Gundham was behind him when he turned, like, right behind him. The sheer closeness of him made Soda blush, and he couldn’t manage to look Gundham in the eye. However, Gundham apparently wasn’t going to let him hide.

Soda felt Gundham place his finger below his chin, and gently lift his head so he could see his face. God, he thought they were close before, but having their faces, their mouths, so near each other made the distance feel unbelievably smaller somehow. Soda didn’t know what to do, his eyes were locked on the mismatched set currently examining his own face and he was frozen.

He felt Gundham shift, bringing his other hand up towards his face as well, and Soda couldn’t help but close his eyes, not certain what was about to happen, but anticipating it anyway.

The press of lips against his-

Gundham placed his hand on Soda’s forehead and hummed, shaking him out of whatever the hell he was imagining.

“You feel quite warm. Are you certain you are not unwell? I am positive the Devas will grant you access another time if you are not yet ready for their splendor.”

Was he ready?

“No, really I’m fine. I’m just, uh, excited I guess?” Might as well just get it over with, at least figure out what exactly Gundham wants from him before he freaks out about it. “So maybe we can just like… get right to it?”

“Such enthusiasm” Gundham’s voice was low, approving, and still so damn close that Soda could swear he felt it vibrate through his body. “Very well then.”

Gundham stepped backwards and gestured grandly to the room “Behold!”

Soda was still reeling from the tonal whiplash his own stupid thoughts were giving him, so the dumbfound look on his face, as he surveyed the colorful sprawling tubes winding their way across the floor, into a large cage and back out the top of it, was genuine.

“Impressive, is it not? The Four Dark Devas of Destruction demand not but the best in all things. This lair may be but a fragment of their true dwelling, but it is still magnificent! Do you not agree?”

Soda continued to stare at the strange structure before him, he was literally speechless.

Wait so, when Gundham asked him to come look at his hamster cages… he had actually just meant he wanted him to look at his hamster cages?

“Ha! It seems your mortal mind was not yet ready to behold such a marvel! Fear not, my dear companion, the Devas power shall not harm you while I am here! Should you still feel overwhelmed, however, you need only let me know and I will return you to your own domain swiftly.”

Gundham crossed his arms and hid the bottom half of his face in his scarf. It looked like he was starting to get embarrassed by Soda’s continued silence. Shit, he didn’t want him to think he thought it was dumb or something, time to tell his confused dick to shut up, and get his equally confused brain to start making words.

“Oh, sorry dude. I was just, um, super surprised! I mean, this stuff takes up like half your room. You must be really dedicated to taking care of your, uh, Devas if you’re willing to give up so much space for them. Like, damn dude.”

As Soda spoke, he watched as Gundham practically inflate with pride again. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to see it.

“Well of course, a proper environment is important to all creatures, both large and small, but I do not consider the lost space a determent to my own domain, rather-“

Gundham began to monologue about the importance of varied and enriching environments, before delving deeply into different aspects of proper hamster care. Soda couldn’t really keep up, but he was enjoying watching Gundham talk so animatedly about something he was obviously passionate about. As Gundham talked, Soda crouched down and began to examine the tubes up close. They didn’t exactly look like they were hard to connect, but the thought of Gundham painstakingly placing them, ensuring they were properly connected so his hamsters didn’t escape or get hurt, made him smile and feel a warmth in his chest completely different from what he had felt earlier.

Gundham crouched down beside him, pausing his monologue, and immediately a hamster skittered through the tubes and stopped in front of them, as if summoned. Soda looked from the hamster to Gundham, and made sure to commit the soft smile that appeared on Gundham’s face to memory.

“Ah, Jum-P, you appear to be at full strength once again.” Gundham gently disconnected a section of the tube and allowed the hamster to crawl into his hand, before carefully reconnecting the tunnel.

“Full strength? Was he sick?”

“Jum-P was waging war with an unidentified demon late into the night. By this morning, the demon had been banished, but Jum-P was left weakened by the battle, I… was worried the battle may have been to fierce.” Gundham’s face was sober as he spoke, he was carefully examining the hamster in his hand at the same time, probably checking for any signs of remaining illness or injury.

Oh, so that was why Gundham had missed breakfast, he must have been up pretty late taking care of his hamster. In fact-

“Gundham, did you… did you get any sleep last night?” Now that he was looking, there were definitely dark circles under Gundham’s eyes. Gundham did not look away from the hamster.

“I could not rest while one of my Devas fought such a fierce battle. Though, I fear there was little I could do without knowing the true identity of the demon.” Gundham looked sad as he began to pet the hamster. “I apologize, Jum-P, I was unable to assist you in your time of need. I have failed as your guardian.” God, he had never seen Gundham look so miserable before.

“I’m sure that’s not true…” Gundham raised his miserable gaze to Soda “I-I mean, even if you couldn’t, um, fight the demon for him, I’m sure just having you there helped, right? Animals are supposed to be sensitive to that kinda stuff, aren’t they? I’m sure he knew you were there worrying about him and it, like, helped him fight better!” He was having a hard time sticking to Gundham’s battle metaphor, but he looked a bit less miserable, so Soda kept talking. “Sometimes all you really need is someone there to support you right? Everything’s a little less scary that way, so I’m sure you helped Jum-P more than you know! Uh, right?”

Gundham smiled softly again, this time while looking at Soda, and he was pretty sure he was going to die any second from how goddamn handsome this man was. When Gundham looked back at his hamster Soda was both relieved and disappointed.

“I have misjudged you, my dear companion, it appears you possess great wisdom, incongruous with your outward appearance. I thank you for your words, friend.”

“Hell yeah I’m wise, and don’t you forget it!” Soda was pretty sure Gundham had said he looked dumb somewhere in there, but whatever, he’d let it slide for now.

“Would you like to hold him?” Gundham extended the hand holding Jum-P towards Soda. The hamster was tiny, and had apparently just recovered from some disease, Soda was a little worried about hurting it by accident, but if Gundham trusted him…

“Can I? I mean is Jum-P cool with letting a mortal like me hold him? What if I, y’know, accidently hurt him or something?”

“You require great dexterity while attending to your constructs do you not? I trust your hands to be capable of managing Jum-P, he is the most tranquil of my Devas. However, if you are nervous, I will lend you my aid.” Soda blushed at the word, and he couldn’t be sure, but he thought Gundham did as well. “Hold your hands like so.” Gundham cupped both his hands together, creating a sort of bowl for the hamster to rest in.

Soda copied him, and Gundham placed the hand not occupied by Jum-P below Soda’s, supporting them as he gently placed the hamster into Soda’s palms, petting him lightly after he let go. Jum-P felt warm and ridiculously fragile in his hands, and Soda immediately began to panic. He was absolutely going to hurt this hamster somehow and Gundham was going to hate him.

“Relax.” There was that low voice again, so close, and this time Soda was certain he felt it reverberate through his body. He took a deep breath and focused on keeping his hands steady as the hamster sniffed his palms.

“Do I stink or something?” Soda let out a nervous laugh.

“Your scent is quite pleasant, Jum-P is simply familiarizing himself with it.” Gundham once again began to pet the hamster in Soda’s hands, still supporting them from below with his own.

Soda flicked his eyes up to Gundham’s face, and there was that stupid soft smile again. Soda suddenly became aware of their position. They were basically holding hands around the hamster, sitting with their knees touching and their heads bent together, foreheads no more than an inch apart. Had Gundham just said he smelled nice? He felt that weird warmth from earlier again, the one that had nothing to do with his dick and sat heavy in his chest. He swallowed and looked back down at the hamster.

“Oh! Is he asleep?” The hamster had curled up in his palms and looked to be breathing peacefully.

“Yes, it would appear Jum-P has deemed you worthy of his trust. You should be honored.”

“Oh, thanks little dude.” He giggled a bit “So do we have to sit here like this until he wakes up, or?”

Soda was enjoying himself, but his knees were starting to hurt, and he had no idea how long hamsters slept for…

“That will not be necessary, Jum-P is a sound sleeper, he will not be disturbed by being relocated to his lair. Would you like to do it, or shall I?”

Soda was pretty flattered that Gundham would trust him enough to carry the hamster across the room the cage, but he didn’t trust himself not to trip over one of the hamster tubes on the way.

“You should probably do it, I’m still pretty worried about dropping him.”

“Very well.” Gundham scooped the hamster from his palms, and Soda had to admit he kinda missed the feeling of its furry little body in his hands.

Almost as much as he missed the feeling of Gundham’s hand on his.

He wasn’t really ready to think about what that meant just yet.

Next Chapter 

#Soudam #Soda kazuichi #gundham tanaka #danganronpa #danganronpa 2 #fic #Soda/Gundham #Fellas is it gay to tenderly cradle your bro's hands while you let him hold a hamster than means more to you than your own life? #Fic Aid #My writing

[swanqueeneverafter]

I Believe In Us

A Belated Christmas Story. Set during ‘The Once & Future Queen’. *Spoilers lie ahead* After the kiss that sent Emma back home to the future, Storybrooke’s fate is now uncertain. Can the curse still be broken without the Saviour? Will Regina be able to move on from her latest heartbreak and mend her relationship with Henry?

Storybrooke. The Mayor’s House. (Emma walks Henry up the garden path towards the house.) Henry: “Please don’t take me back there.” Emma: “I have to. I’m sure your Mom is worried sick about you.” Henry: “She’s evil.” Emma: (Scoffs:) “Evil. Boy you were a handful back then weren’t you?” Henry: “What?” Emma: “Er… nothing. Listen, Kid. I’m sure that’s not true. (Emma’s breath catches when she sees the front door open as if in slow motion:) Here we go.” Regina: “Henry? Oh! Henry! (Runs out and hugs him:) Are you okay? Where have you been? What happened?” Henry: “I found my other Mom!” (Henry runs inside the house. Up until this moment, Regina has only had eyes for her son. Turning to face the woman beside her, Regina gazes into the eyes of her long lost love.) Regina: “Emma. You… You’re Henry’s birth mother?” (Unable to speak, Emma merely nods.) Sheriff Graham: (Awkwardly:) “I’ll… just… go check the lad, make sure he’s okay.” (He leaves.) Regina: “How… I don’t understand…” Emma: (Smiles, lamely:) “It’s a long story.” Regina: “You’re really here. (Slowly reaches out to touch Emma’s face:) I’ve waited so long… just to see you again.” Emma: (Softly:) “I know.” Regina: “All of this… everything you see… I created it, hoping that one day we’d be together again.” Emma: (Nodding, Emma takes Regina’s hands in her own:) “I need you to do just one more thing for me.” Regina: “Anything.” Emma: (Smiles:) “Kiss me.” Regina: “I thought you’d never ask.” (Regina steps forward and claims Emma’s lips with her own. Her eyes widening at the passion coming from Regina, Emma notices that her body begins to glow with a brilliant golden light. Wrapping her arms around Regina to hold her close, Emma shuts her eyes tightly and surrenders fully to the kiss.) Moments Later... (Basking in the emotions of once more being in the arms of the woman she loves, Regina is about to run her hands through the blonde woman's hair when all sensation suddenly stops. Regina's eyes spring open just in time to see the shimmering gold outline of Emma's body disappear before her eyes.) Regina: (Reaching out with one hand, whispers:) "Emma..." Boston. Emma’s Apartment. (Emma enters with a bag and places it on the counter. She takes out a gourmet cupcake and puts a candle on it, lighting it.) Emma: “Another banner year… (She closes her eyes and blows out the candle. The doorbell rings. Emma opens the door:) Shaw?” Shaw: “Hey, Swan. Happy Birthday.” Emma: “Uh… thanks. What are you-” Shaw: “I got another case for ya.” Emma: “Oh, really? You know what, maybe you ought to take it, my car’s just been stolen and-” Shaw: (Pushing past Emma and walking into the apartment:) “I would, but this guy prefers blondes. Hey, shut the door, you’re letting the heat out.” (Emma nods and closes the door with a sigh.)

Storybrooke. One Week Later. (Henry Mills lays on his bed with his back to the door when his mother enters the room.) Regina: "It's time for your therapy session." Henry: "I don't want to go." (Regina pushes open the door further and gently joins him on the bed.) Regina: "Well I think it'd be good to talk to someone. (Pats Henry on the leg:) C'mon. (Henry rolls over and gets up from the bed:) That's my boy. (Henry pulls on his jacket:) Henry, do you mind telling me what started all this? I mean we used to be so close and now-" Henry: (Picking up the storybook he turns and holds it out to her:) "Here. (Regina takes it:) I thought this had all the answers, but I guess I was wrong. You take it, I don't want it anymore." (Placing the book on the bed, Regina opens it and flips through the first few pages while Henry heads sullenly towards the stairs.) Lowell, Massachusetts. Dentist's Office. (Emma Swan sits flicking through the pages of a magazine in the waiting room. From time to time she covertly glances at the man seated across from her.) Receptionist: "Mr. Mitchell? Doctor Hughes will see you now." (Mr. Mitchell nods, tosses the magazine he was reading back on the table in front of him and heads towards the dentist's office.) A Few Minutes Later. (Having given the local anaesthetic drugs time to take effect, Emma barges her way into the doctor's office where Mr. Mitchell is being treated.) Doctor Hughes: "Excuse me, you can't be in here." Emma: "Oh I can't afford not to be. You see, Doc, this guy is my next meal ticket." Doctor Hughes: "Excuse me?" Emma: "Well, Alex here has run up a few debts, and I've been hired to track him down." Doctor Hughes: "I see. Well nevertheless, I'm about to fix this man's smile." Emma: "Yeah, I'd hold off on that if I were you, Doc. Unless you like to work for free? You wouldn't be the first person Alex has failed to pay. (Doctor Hughes presses the button on the dentist's chair causing it to raise Alex back into an upright position:) Good choice. (Notices something:) Ooh. (Picks up a teeth whitening chart:) Egg shell white might look nice?" Doctor Hughes: (Pulling off his gloves:) "Just get him out of here." Emma: (Smiles:) "You're the doc, Doc.”

Storybrooke. Main Street. (Regina is walking down the street and sees Marco struggling to repair a sign and Ruby and Granny arguing. She looks bored.) Archie: “Beautiful day.” Regina: “Save it.” (She bumps into Mary Margaret.) Mary Margaret: “Oh! Mayor Mills, I am so sorry.” Regina: “I ran into you. Why are you apologizing?” Mary Margaret: “No, I should have been looking where I was going.” Regina: “You’re not even going to fight back?!” Mary Margaret: “Fight back? Why would I do that?” (Walks away.) (With siren blaring, Sheriff Graham's police cruiser pulls up alongside Regina, startling her.) Regina: "Turn off that damn siren!" Sheriff Graham: "Apologies, Madam Mayor but... (Steps out of the car and leans against it:) You've been a hard woman to track down lately." Regina: "Well I’ve been busy. After all, I do run this town, sheriff." Sheriff Graham: "I understand that. But I also realise you may have been avoiding me and I believe the reason has something to do with the owner of that vehicle over there. (Graham points towards the yellow bug parked across the street:) I think we should speak again about how Henry's birth mother suddenly arrives in town and leaves just as quickly without her car?" Regina: "I've told you all I know, sheriff. Henry's birth mother gave away her rights to him years ago and when my son turned up on her doorstep, she obviously couldn't drop him back home and get the hell out of this town fast enough. Don't expect me to understand the mind of a woman like that!” Mr. Gold Pawnbroker & Antiquities Dealer. (Walking with purpose, Regina enters Mr. Gold's shop, turns the open sign to closed and slams the door shut.) Mr. Gold: (Overly cheerful:) "Regina, how wonderful it is to see you!" Regina: "You son of a bitch." Mr. Gold: "Quite possible. I never knew my mother." Regina: "Enough games, Gold. I thought you were heartless before, but this? Using her as part of your sick little plans?" Mr. Gold: (Calmly:) "You know, every once in a while you come into my shop and rave at me about some great wrong that you believe I've done to you. I must confess, each time leaves me more perplexed than before." Regina: (Scoffs:) "You have no idea what I'm talking about, is that right?" Mr. Gold: "I'm afraid not." Regina: "Then let me illuminate you. I am talking about Henry's birth mother." Mr. Gold: (Furrows his brow in thought:) "The woman who was found in the woods outside Storybrooke around... how long ago must it be now?" Regina: "Twenty eight years ago." Mr. Gold: "Ah yes. What about her?" Regina: "She was here. She brought Henry back from Boston with her." Mr. Gold: "Oh yes, I think I heard something about that from Doctor Hopper. Despite Henry running away, it sounds to me like everything worked out in the end.” Regina: "Only the thing is, Gold, I met her before... years ago and yet when I saw her again, she didn't look a day older. How do you explain that?" Mr. Gold: (Smirks:) "I'm told some women age more gracefully than others?" Regina: "Oh cut the crap! There's simply no way that Emma could be-" Mr. Gold: (A look of recognition dawns upon his face:) "Emma… What a lovely name." Regina: (Realising something has just changed between them:) “You… you built this into this whole thing, didn’t you? You made this happen because the mother… she’s…”

Mr. Gold: (Composing himself:) "Do you ever get Deja vu? She's what, Madam Mayor?" Regina: "She's the Saviour. But you told me that..." Mr. Gold: "There's a complete thought in there just screaming to get out." (Regina paces the floor in thought, then turns back.) Regina: "It's impossible. You told me the Saviour was the child of Snow and Prince Charming." Mr. Gold: "Did I?" Regina: "Play dumb all you want, you little imp. Whatever your schemes were, they're finished. Your Saviour vanished into thin air. There's no one left to break the curse. I have Henry, I have this town and finally, after destroying your plans... I truly have my revenge!" (Regina strides to the door, pulls it open and walks through it. Leaving Mr. Gold fuming in her wake.) Worcester, Massachusetts. (Sitting at the bar, Emma orders another drink. Watching her from the dance floor, Shaw excuses herself from her dance partner, walks over and takes the seat beside Emma.) Emma: (Notices Shaw staring at her:) "What are you looking at?” Shaw: “I'm just trying to figure out what it'll take to get you to open up.” Emma: “Open up what? I'm open. I spent my birthday alone. I spent Thanksgiving alone and now it looks like I’ll be spending Christmas alone. It sucks, but it’s been this way all my life.” Shaw: “How do you feel?” Emma: “Like it sucks.” Shaw: “Right. But are you mad, sad? Do you feel like throwing things, or crying your eyes out?” Emma: “I don't know. (Sighs:) Neither, both, all of it. I don't know.” Shaw: “And I thought I was tough to crack.” Emma: “I just need to drink, okay? And since my car was stolen, I’ve got no excuse not to.” Shaw: “Actually, you do. I’m about five minutes from convincing my mark to leave with me then I’ll need your help getting him tied up and stuffed in my trunk. So if you want a ride...” Emma: “I know, I know. I gotta earn it. (Grabs her drink:) Last one, I swear.” (Shaw gives her a look and then heads back to her dance partner.) Shaw: (Emma smiles when she hears Shaw talking to the unsuspecting man:) “Of course I was coming back, it’s so nice to find a man who’ll let me lead.”

Storybrooke. Dr. Hopper's Office. (Regina and Archie discuss Henry's treatment.) Regina: "What the hell is going on, Doctor Hopper? My son is pulling away from me and he's become even more sullen and depressed than before." Doctor Hopper: "Madam Mayor, you must understand. Henry has just received two big losses in his life. In the world he created for himself, Henry believed that his birth mother only gave him away due to circumstances beyond her control. After having found Emma and telling her what he believed to be true, the fact that she quickly returned him and left without so much as a backwards glance was devastating to him. He not only lost his birth mother for a second time but also the hopefulness that came from his belief system." Regina: "But surely that's a good thing? Now that Henry has seen the truth, he should be able to move past it?" Doctor Hopper: (Nods:) "That is what I had hoped would happen. But as you've seen for yourself, Henry only seems to be retreating further into his shell." Storybrooke Elementary School. (Regina visits Henry's teacher, Mary Margaret Blanchard.) Regina: "What in the hell did you tell my son about this book?" Mary Margaret: "Just that they were some old stories to give him hope. As you well know, Henry is a special boy: so smart, so creative, and as you might be aware, lonely. He needed it." Regina: "Well your dose of hope has sent Henry into a full blown depression. I mean look at this nonsense. (Flips to the page depicting Prince Charming putting baby Emma through the wardrobe:) What kind of so-called heroes put their own interests ahead of their new-born child?" (Walks away from the table to stare derisively at the crudely painted bird houses.) Mary Margaret: (Nods:) "I'll grant you that part of the story is mortifying but that's just the beginning." Regina: "What are you talking about? That's where the storybook ends." Mary Margaret: "I'm sorry, Madam Mayor but you're wrong. Look." (Glancing back towards the table, Regina watches as Mary Margaret turns over several pages of the storybook, each illustrating further stories that are unfamiliar.) Regina: "Let me see that. (Scans the pages:) These weren't in here before." Mary Margaret: "Perhaps you just missed them? I know how busy you are, Madam Mayor. (Looks at the clock:) And I have a class due here any minute. (Guides Regina towards the door while she continues to read through the new pages:) Please send Henry my love and tell him his whole class is thinking of him." (Without a word, Regina merely nods and continues reading, paying no attention to the mass of school children now surrounding her as they make their way to their next class.) Mills House. Evening. (That night, despite a long standing house rule of no reading at the dinner table, Regina finds herself unable to tear her eyes away from the storybook. Having excused Henry after a disastrous meal of burned lasagne and second helpings of ice cream, Regina sits alone fully engrossed in the story of the Saviour, Emma Swan and the former Evil Queen, Regina Mills. Eventually, after hours spent reading, Regina’s tired eyes begin to fail her. Unwilling to be parted from the storybook, Regina makes her way up the stairs, clutching the book closely to her. Peering in on Henry to find him fast asleep, Regina makes her way to her own bedroom and closes the door.) The Next Morning. (Sheriff Graham stands waiting outside the Mayor's mansion while Regina speaks to Henry.) Henry: "Wait a minute, you're leaving me here by myself on Christmas Eve? Don't you remember those Home Alone movies we watch every year?" Regina: "I remember, Henry. Vividly. But you're not going to be alone, I've asked Doctor Hopper to stay with you until I get back." Henry: "And you're not going to tell me where you're going?" (Regina does not answer, giving her son a sympathetic look.) Regina: "Sheriff Graham and I have to get going. I promise I'll be back to tuck you in, okay?" Henry: (Sighs:) "Okay." Regina: "Now give me a hug. (Henry wraps his arms around his mother:) I love you, Henry." Henry: "I know you do." Regina: (Holding him closer:) "And?" Henry: (Smiling despite himself:) "I love you too, Mom." Regina: "Good boy. (She kisses him then straightens up:) We'll be back before you know it.”

Boston. Emma’s Apartment. (With the storybook under her arm, Regina nervously approaches apartment 205 and knocks on the door.) Emma: (Opening the door:) "May I help you?" Regina: (Stares at her for a long moment, then smiles:) "Hello. You don't know me, my name is Regina Mills. Around ten years ago you gave a baby up for adoption. His name is Henry and he's my son." A Short Time Later. (Seated opposite each other with the storybook and two glasses between them, Regina and Emma discuss Henry.) Emma: "So your son believes that everyone in his home town is a fairy tale character? (Regina nods:) Hey listen, if you're here to ask about my family history, I'm sorry but I can't help you." Regina: (Smiles:) "That's not why I'm here. Henry only started to believe these things after reading that book." Emma: (Shrugs:) "Seems pretty simple to me, just tell him no more stories until he's old enough to tell the difference between fantasy and reality." Regina: "That's just it, Miss Swan, the problem isn't that Henry believes the stories to be true." Emma: "It's not? (Regina shakes her head:) Then help me out here because I'm feeling a little lost." Regina: "The problem is... that they are true. Every last one of them. (When Emma moves backwards in her seat:) I cast the curse that brought everyone from my world to this one. The land without magic." Emma: "Riiight. Well I think we've found the route of Henry's problems." Regina: (Lowers her head:) "I know." Emma: "You're clearly feeding his delusions." Regina: (Looks up quickly:) "What?" Emma: "Well no wonder he thinks these stories are real if you're playing along with him." Regina: "No, Emma, that's not what I meant. (She reaches for the storybook and turns to a page depicting Emma and Regina's shared magic:) Don't you see? That's us!" Emma: (Glances sceptically at the page:) "I guess there's a faint resemblance... but come on, who are you trying to con?" Regina: "You don't believe me?" Emma: "How can I? What you're talking about... magic and fairy tales... it's impossible." Regina: "In this land, yes, but in the Enchanted Forest-" Emma: (Scoffs:) "The Enchanted Forest? Are you even listening to yourself?!" Regina: "I'm not lying to you, Emma. Everything you've ever wanted to know about your family, who you are and where you came from, it's right in here." Emma: "Why are you doing this to me?" Regina: "All right, you want proof? Your yellow bug is waiting for you outside. I drove it here from Storybrooke." Emma: "You what? So you stole my car?" Regina: "No, I've returned it after the other Emma took it to drive my son back home." Emma: "Oh, the 'other' Emma took it? (Stands:) Okay lady, it's time for you to leave." Regina: (Also stands:) "You don't think I know how insane this sounds? The fact that I'm stood pleading with the one person destined to destroy everything I've built, everything I've worked so hard for? (Emma folds her arms, unmoved by this:) Back home, everyone does exactly what I want them to do. Not because they want to, but because they have to." Emma: (Sarcastically:) "Right, because of the curse?" Regina: "My revenge, my so-called happy ending? None of it is real. Henry is already pulling away from me more and more each day. There is only one way to break the curse and I am begging you for your help." (Emma simply stands watching Regina for a long moment before speaking.) Emma: "Even if I did believe any of this and somehow managed to break the curse, aren't the people of your town going to want revenge for what you've done?“ Regina: (Nods:) "And then some." Emma: "Then why would you want to bring that upon yourself?" Regina: "Because I have read what happens next. (Reaches over and picks up the storybook:) This book contains the story of our past and what I can only conclude is a possible version of our future. Half the stuff in here hasn't even happened yet. (Holds out the book to Emma:) But I have seen a glimpse of what my life could be... and I choose us." (Feeling more vulnerable than she has in years, Regina watches closely as Emma slowly reaches out and takes the storybook.) Outside Emma's Apartment Building. (Sheriff Graham is waiting beside his police cruiser when he sees Regina approaching quickly.) Sheriff Graham: "Regina, is everything all right?" Regina: "Give me the damn keys, I'm driving." Sheriff Graham: "I'm not sure that's a good idea." Regina: "Give me the keys or I will take them from you, sheriff." (Graham pulls the keys from his pocket and hands them over. Running quickly around the car, Graham just manages to slide into the passenger seat before Regina turns on the ignition and, tyres screeching, drives away.) Sheriff Graham: "I take it things didn't go well?" Regina: "I don't want to talk about it, I just want to get home to my son before Christmas." (Regina reaches over and turns on the radio, effectively stifling any further attempts to talk.)

Emma's Apartment. Later That Night. (Emma paces the floor while Shaw tries to make sense of what she's heard.) Shaw: "So you're telling me that a successful, gorgeous woman knocks on your door, begs you to be her Saviour and you just let her go?" Emma: "It's a little more complicated than that. Did I mention she's nuts?" Shaw: "The adoptive mother of your son who you've never told me about?" Emma: "Why would I mention that? It was meant to be a closed adoption for a reason. Did you not hear the 'she's nuts' part?" Shaw: "Even if she is, aren't you even just a little curious to find out about your family?" Emma: (Scoffs:) "You mean my parents who according to that book, just so happen to be Snow White and Prince Charming? Sameen, you and I live in the real world. You can't possibly think there's anything to this nonsense." Shaw: (Flips through the storybook:) “I don’t know, if the people in Storybrooke are even half as hot as they appear in this book..." Emma: "Don't you ever think with another part of your anatomy?" Shaw: (Staring at a picture of a fairy named Astrid:) "I know who's anatomy I'm going to be thinking about tonight." Emma: (Throws up her hands and grabs her coat:) "I need some air." Shaw: "Emma, come on...“ (Slamming the door to her apartment closed behind her, Emma pulls on her coat and heads towards the stairs.) Roof Top. (Pushing open the door to the roof top garden, Emma immediately feels the cool evening air upon her face. Believing herself to be alone, Emma walks towards the edge of the building before hearing a voice behind her.) Apprentice: "Your friend is right you know." Emma: (Spinning around, her eyes are slow to focus as the man steps out of the shadows:) "And who are you supposed to be, Santa Claus?”

Apprentice: (Smiles:) "Perhaps. Tell me, Emma, at what point did you stop believing?" Emma: (Sighs:) "Listen, whoever you are, I'm not in the mood for any more mind games tonight." Apprentice: "Of course not. You usually like to spend Christmas Eve drinking yourself into a stupor so that you can sleep through Christmas Day entirely." Emma: (Unable to argue this point:) "All right, let's say you're right about that. Does that make you my guardian angel? Have you come to show me what my life could be like? Have you come to save me, Clarence?" Apprentice: "In a way, I suppose you could say that. You are destined for great things, Emma Swan. Great things that you can only hope to achieve if you allow yourself to believe in the impossible." Emma: "You're talking about hope? Sorry, but that kinda gets stomped out of you when spend your entire life being rejected by those who should love you the most." Apprentice: "All it takes is a spark. Just one person believing in you can be enough to send you down the right path." Emma: "I walk my own path. Alone." Apprentice: (Nods:) "Naturally, I forgot who I was speaking to. With you, Emma, seeing has always been the only way you have ever truly believed." Emma: "Yeah, well call me crazy, but I prefer to live in reality." Apprentice: "Indeed. Although I do wonder what could cause you to ever take a real leap of faith? If seeing means that you will believe, then perhaps you'd like to take a look over there?" (The Apprentice points towards the edge of the building. Anxious for this to be over, Emma gives the Apprentice a withering look before turning and walking to the edge to peer down at the street below. Suddenly, a flurry of movement gives Emma only a split second to move out of the way before what can only be described as a flying vehicle brushes past her. Looking up into the sky, Emma turns and sees a red and gold sleigh being pulled by eight reindeer flying high above her head. Spinning around once more, Emma sees that the bearded man has now vanished while the sound of sleigh bells can be heard faintly fading into the distance.)

On The Road. (Driving through the night, Emma heads out of Boston while sparing a glance at the storybook which sits beside her on the passenger seat. Smiling to herself, Emma increases her speed, determined to reach her destination as soon as possible.) Storybrooke. Christmas Morning. Mills House. (With the storybook tucked under her arm, Emma makes the long walk up the garden path towards the Mayor's mansion. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she knocks on the front door.) Regina: (Opens door:) "Emma?" Emma: "Hey. So... I read the book." Regina: "In one night?" Emma: "Yeah, once I started reading, I um... couldn't put it down." Regina: "I know what you mean." Emma: "Mm." Regina: "And?" Emma: "And... look I'm not saying I believe everything in there to be true. But, I think if there’s even the slightest chance that it is, we'd be crazy not to give this a shot." Regina: "Hm. Well, according to you, Henry and I are already crazy." Emma: (Gives a nervous smile:) "Then I guess I'll be in good company. If your offer still stands?" Regina: (Steps aside to allow Emma entry:) "Are you sure you're ready for this?" Emma: (Nods:) "I'm ready to take a leap." Regina: (Smiles warmly:) “Me too.”

The End.

#sq #swanqueen #swan queen

[slightly-nerdy-rambles]

Robstar Week Day 2: Morning Sun (Prompt: Warmth)

I decided to take the prompt “warmth” and write something involving “cuddly body heat” (as the planning notes say), and the end result... maybe kind of got away from the actual warmth element, at least as far as the focus. But that’s okay, because I’m immensely pleased with how it turned out, to the point where I can confidently say that this is the story I’m most proud of for this week. Really I probably could have gotten away with just doing the second scene (and it would have fit the prompt more closely anyway, lol), but why do that when you can be EXTRA

Morning Sun

Robin groaned softly as he came to, his head mired in that fuzzy sort of awareness that comes with just waking up. Something felt off, but not in a painful or truly disorienting way – he hadn’t been knocked unconscious, at least. But the odd, half-upright position he found himself in proved that he hadn’t gone to bed properly either.

Blinking open bleary eyes, he pushed himself further up and took stock of his surroundings. That was right – the team had piled into their ops-slash-common room after a late battle and put on a movie to wind down. He must have fallen asleep on the couch, where he found himself now.

As awareness returned to him, he noticed that his side was pleasantly warm. He looked over to see Starfire propped up against him, still fast asleep.

…Huh. It was far from the first time he had fallen asleep with another Titan like this – hell, he was pretty sure every member of the team had done so with every other at least once. That was just what happened when your teammates were also your roommates and nights got unpredictable. But now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure this was the first time he’d actually fallen asleep right next to Starfire. A gentle heat seemed to radiate off her, and Robin frowned. She didn’t look like she had a fever, but he still peeled himself off of her and gently shook her shoulder.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Hey, Star, you okay?”

Starfire’s eyes fluttered open as she began to stir. She gave him a confused look.

“Robin? Did I fall asleep on the couch?” She sat up and looked around, and Robin chuckled.

“You and me both,” he admitted. With a frown he added, “You’re not sick, are you? You feel like you’re burning up.”

Starfire shook her head, the confusion in her face only growing as she stood up and stretched. “I do not feel feverish at all.”

“Huh.” That was just her normal temperature, then. He supposed that Tamaraneans must have a higher than average body heat, or maybe it just seemed that way since he’d apparently spent all night right up against her. He wondered if that was why she gave such nice hugs.

It was that thought that drove in exactly what was going on right now. Not only had he fallen asleep all snuggled up with Starfire, of all people, but they were the only ones here, the other Titans nowhere in sight. He scrambled to his feet, and even though there was no one else to see them he could feel himself blushing furiously.

Starfire just gave him a baffled look, one which was swiftly becoming her expression of choice this morning. “Is something wrong, Robin?”

Robin was too flustered now to answer her, so he just muttered something half-intelligible about paperwork and beat a hasty retreat for his office.

********

It was far from the first time Robin had found himself waking up in unfamiliar circumstances. With the way things had been going, it would be a while before he woke up somewhere that actually felt right.

The Titans had been chasing the Brotherhood of Evil with their stupid worldwide bases and their dumb plots that turned out to be just a small part of some bigger puzzle for about a month now. And honestly? The fact that his mind had resorted to describing the mission this way paid testament to how much he just wanted to go home. If the Brotherhood hadn’t started targeting Honorary Titans specifically, and if what few hints his team managed to uncover hadn’t pointed to some scheme involving the young heroes of the world, he would have been happy to leave these psychos to the Doom Patrol and call it a day. They did have more experience dealing with the Brotherhood, after all.

But the fact of the matter was that the Titans and other young heroes were the targets, and that meant it was their responsibility to defend themselves and their comrades. Even if it meant spending months away from home, chasing any lead they could find. Even if it meant finding themselves in the middle of nowhere in some stretch of northern Russia, where there were no nearby motels to speak of and they had to make do with a parked T-ship and a makeshift snowfort for the second time that week.

Even if it meant everyone huddling up together for warmth.

At least Starfire was there with them this time.

Robin opened bleary eyes to the dim light of the portable lantern set up for this occasion and the gentle glow that always emanated from Cyborg’s circuitry. He checked his communicator for the time, and found it was right around ten minutes before the alarm he’d set for everyone would go off.

Not bad. Normally he would just get up and take the brief head-start to get himself ready for the day, but the makeshift quarters were kind of cramped and he didn’t want to wake anyone else up before he had to. Besides, he didn’t think he’d been this comfortably warm in days.

So instead, he sighed contentedly and leaned closer against his… uh… body heat partner, or whatever he should call it. He was about to rest his eyes for a few more minutes when he suddenly realized he wasn’t the only one awake.

Across the way, from where he and Raven both lay back against a massive green polar bear, Cyborg watched him with the smallest teasing quirk to his lip. In spite of himself, Robin could already feel the heat rising to his face.

“Shut up,” he muttered, pulling the blanket wrapped around him and Starfire up further.

Cyborg’s smirk only grew. “I didn’t say anything,” he pointed out in a voice too soft to wake anyone else. “But if I did, it would just be to point out that you two look very comfortable.”

Robin huffed. “And you three don’t? We all need to share body heat to keep the cold from getting in, if you remember.”

“But there’s plenty of room here on the big green couch, and last I checked, Star does just fine in space-level cold if she’s not overworking herself. Admit it already; you just like the company.”

Robin’s blush deepened. He’d been getting more of these little jabs from Cyborg and the others lately, and he knew it was kind of his fault for letting himself be more affectionate with Starfire without making anything official. But what was he supposed to say? That he hadn’t quite been ready to do this relationship thing when the subject had first come up, and now he was on a long mission that didn’t really seem like the appropriate time to ask out your teammate? That he was maybe sort of stalling on that, and possibly hoping that Starfire would make the first move? That he just really wanted to be near her after the blizzard incident, to know that she was safe, and it didn’t hurt that snuggl- huddling against her just felt warm and comfortable and right?

No, trying to explain any of that would only make the teasing worse. So instead, he huddled back further and summed up all his annoyance and confusion and dumb teenage hormones in the most eloquent way he could.

“I said shut up.”

********

When you took up the hero’s mantle, it wasn’t hard for normal sleep schedules to go out the window. Sure, some villains – the egomaniacs, the sowers of chaos, and those who were just way too confident about attracting the attention of the local superhero team – chose to partake in their villainy at reasonable hours of the day or perhaps early enough in the night. But many others, thieves and black-market dealers mostly, preferred to try their luck at slipping past the city’s awareness when everyone reasonable was trying to sleep. When those late-night crimes spiked, or when it took several nights to crack a case or track down a busy criminal, Robin would often find himself dead on his feet for most of the morning and collapsing into bed at some random hour to take a very long nap.

Because of this, it did not surprise him in the slightest to find himself waking up just as the sun had started drifting down toward the horizon. What did surprise him was the manner in which he found himself: on a hotel room bed, with the DVD menu for some long-finished movie running on the television and Starfire awake but clearly relaxed and curled up beside him in a very definitely non-platonic manner.

In the brief, maddening moment before he remembered where he was and what he’d been doing, Robin flew into a panic and made a flailing attempt to get off the bed. Starfire’s eyes widened and she leaned away from him, allowing him to sit up.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

Robin blinked and took a few deep breaths. Right. They were in Tokyo, and this was part of the team’s hotel suite. He and Star had been watching a movie – actually watching it, nothing untoward – and they must have fallen asleep at some point.

And the reason it was just the two of them, not simply sitting together but cuddling on top of the bed, was because they were dating now. Really, truly dating. He was still trying to wrap his head around that.

All at once he realized that Starfire was still waiting for an answer, so he let out an embarrassed chuckle and said, “Sorry, kind of forgot where I was for a second there.”

The concern in her features dissolved, and just because he could, he leaned over and gave her a small peck on the lower jaw. Yeah, he could get used to this.

Starfire blushed and giggled at the attention, and then swung an arm back around him. “Should we go see what the others are doing?”

Robin leaned into her side and let his head nestle under her chin, basking in her warm presence. “Mmm, I think we can wait a few more minutes.”

********

Nightwing had long since stopped feeling embarrassed when he and his girlfriend fell asleep on the couch.

Now, there were a few unspoken rules surrounding the situation. It was always the couch, or something similar – if they spent the night together in one of their rooms, it’d be too tempting to try something that they personally preferred to wait until marriage for, and even if that didn’t happen, it would still be enough for Cyborg and Beast Boy to start on the teasing and the rumors. In return, it had become common practice for the other Titans to leave Nightwing and Starfire be if they wanted to stay late in ops to talk, or if everyone fell asleep to a movie marathon and one of the others happened to wake up and make his or her way to bed. It still didn’t happen especially often, but it wasn’t exactly something they tried to avoid.

Nightwing had been up late last night, finishing up the paperwork for a case down in ops where Starfire could keep him company, and when he’d finally wrapped up they had both been too tired to bother heading upstairs into their respective bedrooms. Now a soft morning light filtered in through the bayside windows, and he found Starfire still fast asleep with her head on his chest and Silkie curled up near them at the foot of the couch.

Nightwing smiled softly to himself as he ran gentle fingers though his partner’s hair, careful not to wake her. They hadn’t even bothered to fetch blankets, as she rarely felt the need for one and he considered her body heat as she cuddled up against him to be enough. It was a quiet morning, and on these kinds of mornings his mind tended to wander.

They were like a little family, he thought. More so than the Titans as a whole. He loved his other teammates like siblings, of course, but there was something a little more… intimate about just being here with his beloved and their pet. If he closed his eyes, he could almost picture them in a bedroom – their bedroom, not just his or hers – with the snuffling larva curled up in the pet bed that in reality occupied Star’s room, or perhaps swapped out for a young child who had insisted in sleeping with Mom and Dad after a nightmare. It was a nice thought, a peaceful one.

Not for the first time, he wondered what he was waiting for. They were adults now, perhaps a little on the young side for marriage, but he knew that was a weak argument. Even setting aside the fact that Starfire’s home culture had considered her ready to marry ever since her transformation, the circumstances of the team meant they had effectively been “grown up” for years now. He and she had been in love even before they’d begun dating, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that their love was not going to waver now.

He wanted this – to give himself over to her completely, to be her partner in the deepest sense of the word, to start a family together one day and to live out his life by her side. He wanted to wake up with her every morning, his own personal ray of sunshine, and to be her moonlight when she went to bed at night.

It was just a matter of figuring out the right time, he supposed, but as his thoughts drifted to the drawer in his room where he kept his mother’s engagement ring, he thought that time might be coming soon.

********

He dimly realized he was awake, but he wasn’t in a rush to get up. Without even opening his eyes, he nestled his forehead deeper into the crook of her neck and draped an arm loosely over her bare side.

Soft laughter reached his ears, followed shortly by his wife’s teasing voice. “Are you comfortable?”

Even though they couldn’t see each other’s faces in this position, Nightwing smiled lazily and cracked open one eye. “Why wouldn’t I be, Kor? I’ve got you here.”

Starfire laughed again at the use of the pet name he’d given her, and then sighed contentedly. Her breath ruffled his hair, and she tousled it lightly with one hand.

“I could get used to this,” she said. “You are so very playful in the mornings, and your presence is… pleasantly warm.”

Nightwing couldn’t help but snort in amusement at that, and he shuffled himself back to get a proper look at her. Starfire was radiant in the morning light, and beyond her he could see the room they now shared. It had been their first night back from their honeymoon, but already the room just felt… right.

“You’re warmed by me being here? I’m pretty sure Tamaraneans run hotter than humans, Star.”

Starfire’s eyes glittered with mirth, and she shook her head slowly in mock disappointment. “It is not a competition,” she said, and before he could retort she leaned forward and planted him with a deep, long kiss.

Not that he really had much else to say. Only that he thought he could get used to this too.

#Teen Titans #Robin #Starfire #robstar #robstarweek #writing #prompt #fanfiction #it's like a 5+1 things story but without the +1 #I dunno how I managed to do that by accident

[littlestarofthewest]

Title: Meeting Miss Morgan | Word Count: 1962 | Rating (for entire fic): 18+!!!

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female OC | Chapter: 08 of 08 | Link to Masterlist

"You know, I was furious when I came back here and found that my men couldn't even raid one little farm," Carter says. "But bringing you back sure made up for it."

Julie watches the so-called leader of the gang who took her. He's just as dumb and unwashed as the rest of them, and she wants nothing more than kicking his ugly face in. "Go to hell."

Carter laughs. "Oh, we'll see who's going to hell tonight, sweetheart. My men kept an eye on that little farm of yours. Seems like the one guy who actually knows how to shoot left and isn't coming back."

Julie's heart drops. She knows the only reason the raiders turned tail was John. Mr. Henderson has a rifle and isn't afraid to use it for protection, but he's not exactly a good shot. Why would John leave when he has to know that the raiders might try again? All Julie can hope for is that John went to catch the sheriff. That's the only hope they have.

Still, Julie doesn't want to give Carter the satisfaction of seeing her afraid. "Maybe he got bored. My grandma shoots better than any of you degenerates."

Carter's face turns red, and he hits her. Julie can feel her dried lip split and tastes her own blood. "I'm gonna teach you some manners, missy," Carter growls.

Julie is ready to bite, spit, and claw. Whatever is needed to get this man away from her. He grabs her hair, but before he can do anything, several shots cracks outside. 

"What the-?" Carter growls before a bullet hits the wall close to him. 

He curses and crouches down before moving to one of the windows, looking outside. From her position, Julie can see some of the raiders topple over. Someone is attacking them at full force, and there doesn't seem to be much they can do about it.

Julie hopes that it's the police. If another gang is waging war against the raiders, her lookout isn't much better. For now, she tries to stay low to prevent any stray bullets from hitting her. Carter keeps cursing while firing out of the window.

The fight is raging on for a while, but then it gets quieter. "Son of a bitch," Carter curses when he notices he's out of bullets.

He moves over to Julie in a hurry, drawing his knife. He's able to put it against her throat right before the door flies open, a tall, dark figure looming in the entrance, the light from outside making it hard to see his features.

"Don't come closer," Carter screeches. "Or I'll kill her."

The man in the door leans over, checking on Julie. "Hitting her not enough for you?"

Julie freezes, knowing the voice all too well. "Arthur?" she gasps.

Arthur takes a step closer, and Carter presses the knife to her throat. "Look, this whore was asking for it. Doesn't mean we can't be civilized about this."

"Let her go," Arthur says, "I'm not gonna ask twice."

Carter's breath goes heavy behind Julie, and she can't help but enjoy that he's scared shitless. Arthur, on the other hand, is standing before them, steady as a rock. He holds up his gun for a moment before slipping it back in its holster. Shifting behind her, Carter seems to make up his mind. He drags her up from the chair, moving towards Arthur.

"Alright, alright," he says, "you take her, and we all go our separate ways. How about that?"

They move closer, and suddenly, Carter shoves Julie aside and attacks Arthur instead. Arthur manages to sway to one side, Carter's knife cutting up his arm instead of hitting his chest. He doesn't even flinch, let alone move away. Instead, he grabs Carter by the collar while he takes out his gun.

Without a word, Arthur puts it to Carter's throat and pulls the trigger. Julie can see the damage done to Carter's head, blood spraying Arthur, getting him even dirtier. As Carter's body drops to the floor, Arthur turns around and makes a weak attempt to wipe his face clean, but the truth of what he did is all over him.

Julie has seen how many men have been in this camp. For a day, she heard them talking, joking, and singing. Even at night, there have been noises. Now, it's dead quiet. Arthur killed all these men to get to her. Julie knows she should be appalled or worried, but all she can think about is that Arthur came back for her, and her heart is about to burst.

Arthur goes to his knees, his impressive frame somehow shrinking to a less intimidating size. "Are you alright?"

"I'm now," Julie says and reaches for him.

The horror and fear of the last two days finally leave her body as Arthur takes her into his arms. He lifts her up, and Julie doesn't even care about the dirt and blood. She buries her face against his chest and rests her hands against his warm skin as if to make sure he's real.

"Please don't leave again," she whispers.

Arthur hugs her closer to his chest and leans in to kiss her forehead. "I'll stay with you, I promise."

Julie's eyes fall shut, the exhaustion of the last two days finally settling in. She hears John's voice from far away, but then everything goes dark.

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

Julie has slept through the night and stays in bed until the afternoon for Mrs. Henderson's sake. Then she gets up, too restless and a little worried that Arthur might leave while she's asleep.

She's closing the last buttons on her shirt when there's a knock on the door. "Come in," she says, ready to fight Mrs. Henderson. There's no way she'll stay in bed a second longer.

The door opens, and Julie's surprised to find Arthur peaking in. "Mind if I come in?"

"No, not at all."

Arthur opens the door entirely but stays there and leans against the frame. He's wearing the shirt he bought in town, and Julie's embarrassed that he knows now that she kept it.

"Heard somewhere that you might be up already," Arthur says.

Julie rolls her eyes with a sigh. "I don't care who she sends in here, I'm not staying in bed for another minute."

"You won't hear any argument from me," Arthur says, raising his hands in defense.

Talking to him like this makes Julie's heart ache, and although her body is perfectly fine, she still sits down on the bed, unsure she can keep upright during the rest of the conversation.

"Is this the next goodbye?" she asks, not able to pretend that she hasn't thought about this the second she woke up.

Arthur looks down at his hands before walking into the room. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

Julie holds her breath when Arthur sits down next to her. In that second, she seems to remember every touch and kiss they shared, every moment when it was normal to sit like this. Despite her fears, sitting next to Arthur gives her so much comfort. She doesn't want to miss that.

"I want to stay on the farm," Arthur says. "Unless you have any objections. Then I'd find a place nearby, just in case."

Julie's heart pounds faster, but she doesn't dare to hope that things could go back to how they were before. "In case of what? I mean, what changed your mind?"

Arthur looks out of the window, his face full of a pain that can't come from his wounds. "When I was a lot younger, I spend a night with a waitress. It was just stupid half-drunken fun, but she got pregnant."

Julie's breath hitches. She imagined Arthur's past many times, but just like she's never seen him as an outlaw, she's never pictured him as a father either. "So, you have a child?"

"I had," Arthur says, his voice cracking. "The girl, Eliza, she didn't ask for anything, but every few months, I would visit her and our son. I gave them money, played a little with Isaac. I thought I was doing the right thing."

"You tried to provide for them," Julie says, but Arthur huffs.

"I did the bare minimum and told myself how great I was for doing so, while I actually let them down," Arthur says, the anger at himself evident in his voice. "The last time I rode out to them, there were two crosses in front of the house. They got killed over 10 lousy bucks, and I wasn't there."

"I'm so sorry, Arthur," Julie says, her heart going out to that poor woman and her child. She puts her hand on Arthur's, both of them sitting in silence.

It only now occurs to Julie how lucky she was. If it wasn't for Arthur and John, those men could have done horrible things to her. She could still be a prisoner or dead. 

"Thank you for coming back for me," she says, and Arthur finally turns to her.

"I know I don't deserve to ask anything from you, but I don't want to make the same mistakes again," Arthur says. "I can't go away knowing that something might happen to you while I'm not there. I want to do better this time."

Julie considers him for a moment, and she believes him, but if she's honest with herself, it's not enough. "Do you want to be there to protect me, or do you want to be with me? Because I can't take more of this back and forth."

"I don't deserve-" Arthur begins, but Julie interrupts him.

"You don't deserve me? Why? Because you did bad things in your past?" Julie huffs. "I've talked to John and Abigail. And I've seen that you've also done a whole lot of good. You're trying to redeem yourself, and I want to be with you more than anything. Don't you want me?"

"Jesus Jules, of course, I want to be with you," Arthur says, his voice desperate. "I love you."

Silence falls between them. Julie's heart wants to jump out of her chest, and Arthur looks like he's about to pass out after what he just said. Taking a deep breath, Julie puts her arms around Arthur's neck. "And I love you, so would you just stop hating yourself for one second and kiss me?"

Arthur puts his arms around her, his expression so sheepish that Julie almost has to laugh. "Mrs. Henderson will tear me into pieces, won't she?"

Julie smiles. "Don't worry, I'll put you back together."

Arthur pulls her close and kisses her, and Julie can't help but melt against him. It feels like coming home after a long day, finally at peace. Julie takes Arthur's face into her hands and resting her forehead against his, she caresses his beard with her thumb. "Promise me something."

"Hm?"

"We're in this now. If you doubt yourself, just talk to me," Julie says. "Don't change your mind halfway through."

"I won't," Arthur says, redness tainting his cheeks. He carefully gets out of Julie's grip to reach into his pocket, handing her a folded piece of paper. It looks weathered, as if he had it for a while and always kept it on him.

Julie unfolds it to find a drawing of herself. It's in such detail that it looks more like a photograph, and she can't believe that Arthur could draw this from memory. At the top, the date tells Julie that Arthur made this the day after he left with John. In the right bottom corner of the page is a small note written in Arthur's intricate handwriting.

Jules - the one I should have married

#my writing

[myforeverforlife]

thinking about you.

For another anon! Chanyeol + Soulmates!au (Mental link) + Enemies to lovers + 1. “Are you sure this is legal?”

Note: (Words in bold and italics like this are character’s thoughts.)

Masterlist

“Y/N, catch!”

You turned around just in time to see the bottle of Gatorade being thrown your way, hands instinctively coming up to catch it. You studied it closely, nose scrunching up in disgust.

“You’re the worst, Nini. Who even likes purple Gatorade?”

Jongin gasped in mock horror, jogging over before taking a seat on the turf beside you. “Don’t knock it till you try it,” he warned.

“I have tried it.” You eyed the Gatorade in his hand — yep, also grape flavored — and sighed. Well, there went your chances of switching with him. “Thanks, but you can have mine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” You smiled to yourself when Jongin took the bottle happily. “How much longer until our break is over?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Jongin was struggling to get the cap of his drink off, alternating between using his shirt and wiping the sweat off of his hands. “Yixing will come get us when it’s time to head back inside.”

“You know, sometimes I feel bad that he’s our section leader. He’s too nice for his own good.”

“Well then maybe you should help him out by focusing more during band practice.” With a grunt, Jongin finally got his drink open, guzzling down the sugary treat like he had been parched for days.

“Hey, I do focus! Come on, you can’t honestly say that I haven’t been working my ass off.”

Jongin shrugged, taking a break from his Gatorade to give you the side-eye. “You’d do better if you stopped checking out the football team every chance you got.” He nodded towards the other end of the field, the uniformed group of boys talking to each other in small groups.

“Listen, it’s not my fault that the football team is full of attractive guys. Well, except for one.”

“You know, Chanyeol really isn’t that bad — ”

“He brought his ferret to school in second grade and laughed when it pooped in my desk! And, he got mad at me when I told the teacher he was trying to copy off of Jongdae’s test in Chemistry last year.”

“Okay, but still — ”

“No, no ‘buts’ about it. Park Chanyeol has done nothing but be a pain in my ass since we were kids. He hasn’t changed since then, and he never will. I hope one day during one of his games, he falls flat on his face in front of everyone.”

“Ouch.” The new voice had you flinching in surprise, your ponytail a blur as you spun around to see who was talking — although you had a pretty good guess who it was. Sure enough, Park Chanyeol stood there in his uniform, football helmet cradled under his arm. “You know, they say that karma’s a bitch. I wouldn’t want you to be on the receiving end of that,” he said with a smirk.

Rolling your eyes, you stood up, arms crossed over your chest as you stomped past him. “The field’s all yours, Chanyeol. Try not to let your ego take up too much space,” you hissed as you passed.

“Have fun at practice!” he called out after you, voice booming. “Make sure you don’t drop your clarinet, Butterfingers!”

You bit back the retort waiting at the tip of your tongue. Of course he just had to keep bringing up the one mishap you had during a football game, nearly two years ago. It had been your first time performing at a halftime show, and your hands been so shaky that you had dropped your clarinet while performing on the field, right in front of the football teams and the entire crowd. You didn’t talk to him often, but whenever you came face to face with Chanyeol, it always ended up with him teasing you mercilessly.

You were absolutely sure that Chanyeol would never be anything more than a jerk.

You didn’t hate your creative writing class, but since it was your first class of the day, you were often tempted to just close your eyes and take a mini-nap.

Just as you were about to lay your head down on your desk, you could hear Park Chanyeol worry about how to find the derivative of some equation. Sitting upright, you looked around the classroom only to find no trace of Chanyeol anywhere. So why in the hell could you hear him like he was sitting right behind you?

Chanyeol continued to go through the steps of his math equation, driving you crazier with each passing second. You stood up, desk bumping into the seat in front of you. “I need to go to the nurse, I’m not feeling well,” you blurted out.

Your teacher stared at you, caught off guard in the midst of his lecture before nodding towards the door. “Take the hall pass with you.”

And so, with the hall pass lanyard hanging from your neck, you went stomping through the hallways in search of Park Chanyeol. He had moved through a series of equations, and no matter how hard you tried to block his voice out, you could still hear his thoughts.

You weren’t sure which class he was in, but there were only two teachers who taught pre-calculus. Heading down the math hallway, you peeked inside one room, blushing when everyone in the class turned to look at you. Another cursory glance proved that Chanyeol wasn’t in this room. “Sorry,” you mumbled, dashing down the hall to the other class.

This room was rowdier than the last one, students working in groups on the worksheets scattered over their desks. Spotting Chanyeol in the back, you paused in the doorway when he noticed you. “Y/N?”

“Sir, can I borrow Chanyeol for a minute? We’re supposed to collect and put up the flyers for the football game this week.”

Chanyeol’s math teacher brushed this off, not even looking up from his laptop. Chanyeol, on the other hand, remained in his seat, clearly puzzled. “Why is she here?”

“Come on!” you were waving him over, foot tapping impatiently against the floor. The sooner you two got to the bottom of this, the sooner you’d be free of his thoughts — you hoped.

Hesitantly, Chanyeol got up from his seat, weaving between chairs and desks before reaching the door. “What?” he grumbled out.

You grabbed onto his hand, pulling him away from the classroom. Chanyeol’s thoughts were colored with surprise and oddly enough, shyness? You led him to the library, knowing that people wouldn’t spot either one of you from this side of the building. Dropping his hand, you were taken aback to hear how Chanyeol immediately missed having your hand in his. You shook your head to rid the thoughts, trying to focus on why you had dragged him out here.

“This is gonna sound insane, but I can literally hear everything you’re thinking right now. Yes, everything,” you added when he raised an eyebrow in doubt.

Chanyeol laughed skeptically. “Yeah, right. What’s next, you’re gonna tell me you have x-ray vision too? Nice try, Y/N, but I’m not that dumb. Why did you even pull me out of class?” His eyes widened, eyebrows shooting upwards. “Wait, there’s no flyers to collect, huh? Are you sure this is legal, just talking in the hallways like this during class? Ah crap, we’re gonna get detention if we’re caught and — ”

“Listen to me! I don’t know how this happened, but one second I was trying not to fall asleep in creative writing, and the next thing I knew, I could hear you thinking about how to do pre-calc.”

Chanyeol stared at you like you had three eyeballs, backing away slowly. “Okay, I’m gonna say that you need to lay off the coffee and get some more sleep at night.” You could hear the thoughts racing in his head, all about how he was worried and yet curious as to why you were having a decent conversation with him.

“I’m telling the truth, I’ll prove it! Think of something right now.”

One corner of Chanyeol’s lips jumped up as he snorted, crossing his arms across his chest. “I’m not doing this.”

“Yes you are! Now, quick!”

He sighed, staring up at the hallway overhang above both of you.

“Pokemon! You’re thinking about getting the new game before Baekhyun does!” you blurted out, no longer caring about sounding crazy.

Chanyeol’s mouth fell open, trying to speak and failing to string together a comprehensive sentence. “You... how... how did you know that?”

“You believe me now?”

“Wait, but how come you only hear me? And why don’t I get to hear your thoughts? This is so unfair!”

You shrugged. “Maybe it’s because I’m more mature. Oh — I am half a year older than you.”

Chanyeol rolled his eyes with a huff. “Yeah, well whatever it is, it’s already getting on my nerves. Just try to stay out of my head.”

“Uh, I would if I could. Just try to keep your thoughts PG for my sake. God, I really hope that this goes away soon.”

Unluckily for both of you, you were plagued with listening to Chanyeol’s not even for the rest of the day, but for the rest of the week.

“This is fucking torture,” you groaned, lying down on the football field as Jongin shrugged sympathetically. “Do you know many times I’ve wished I could clean out my brain in the past week?”

“We still don’t know why this is happening though,” Jongin thought aloud. “I’ve never heard of this before. Do you think its another soulmate thing?”

You scoffed, rolling over onto your side as the fake grass poked your arms and legs. “If we were soulmates, I’d have a dream about it, not be able to hear his every thought.”

“Well, there’s not much difference. Dreams, hearing thoughts — they both have to do with the mind. Maybe soulmate links just manifest in different ways. Are you sure you don’t want to tell your parents?”

“And end up in the hospital? Nah, I’ll just wait it out and hope for the best. I mean, this is just a really long and weirdly descriptive hallucination, right?”

“Y/N?”

You sighed, sitting up as soon as you recognized the voice. “What is it now, Chanyeol?”

The bane of your existence this past week stared at you blankly, his football bag in one hand and hair sweaty from running. God, you hated to admit it, but he actually did look sort of hot.

Chanyeol’s already large eyes grew bigger, if that was even possible, and he dropped his bag in surprise. “You think I look hot?”

“What the fuck?” you spluttered out, back of your neck heating up in embarrassment. “How do you know that?”

“Y/N, I can hear you. I literally just started hearing your thoughts as I was entering the locker room,” Chanyeol explained slowly, still trying to make himself believe it.

“No fucking way.”

“I’m not kidding.”

You gasped upon hearing his response in your head, hand flying up to your mouth while Jongin stared from you to Chanyeol in confusion. “What, so now you guys can both hear each other?” He didn’t get an answer, seeing as you and Chanyeol were mentally yelling at each other. He rolled his eyes, poking you in the shoulder. “Hey, I want to know what’s happening too.”

“I think you’re right,” Chanyeol spoke up, addressing Jongin. “About the soulmate thing. It’s not common, but there have been people out there like us.”

“Like who?” you countered.

“My aunt and uncle. I didn’t want to say anything at first cause I was worried I’d be wrong, you know since it was only you hearing me. And well,” Chanyeol rubbed the back of his neck. “You’ve never really liked me anyways.”

“Because all you did was annoy the hell out of me!”

“I’m sorry, okay! It’s just... you’re cute when you get all mad like that. You’re funny, especially when you get mad at me,” he admitted with a sheepish smile.

You were at a loss for words. Park Chanyeol had a crush on you?

“Yes,” he answered your thoughts. God, it would take a while to get used to this. “I... can we talk about this after practice? We can call my aunt and ask her about this too.”

There really was no other choice, since this was the first time you had ever heard about any sort of soulmate link like this. And hard as you might try to deny it, Chanyeol was slowly growing on you. Getting to know him through his thoughts this past week hadn’t been the worst, despite what you had been complaining to Jongin not less than ten minutes ago. He was charming and sweet, something you had never noticed because of the limited view you had of him.

Chanyeol smiled to himself as he could hear you thinking, the tips of his ears turning pink. “So is that a yes?”

You nodded, finding it hard to look him in the eye.

Chanyeol laughed in relief, picking up his football bag and starting to walk backwards, towards the locker room. “I’ll meet you outside the band room!” he called out, before breaking into a run.

From this angle, he looked much like the other football players you had spent hours checking out. You blinked rapidly, unable to look away even as Chanyeol stopped to look over his shoulder. His eyes searched until he found you, smile turning playful and sending shivers down your spine. “I can hear you thinking about how good I look. I mean, how good my butt looks.”

“Just go to practice, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol laughed, able to hear you sulking even in your thoughts even as he ran off, disappearing into the locker room.

“See you later.”

A/N: these drabble requests aren’t even drabbles anymore, I’m enjoying all of these prompts way too much to keep them under 1k lol

#exo #chanyeol #chanyeol scenario #chanyeol fanfic #exo scenario #exo fanfic #writings #drabbles

[missjanjie]

Take Me Back to the Start | (9/10)

Title: Take Me Back to the Start Summary:   Everyone remembers their first love. Not everyone carries those feelings from childhood to senior year. Yet Brock is starting his last year of high school while still longing for the relationship he lost five years ago. Meanwhile, José is at the top of the food chain and seems to have it all together. But maybe their story isn’t over yet. Word Count: ~3.1k (this chapter) / ~28.4k (total) Relationship(s): Branjie (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo), Sportsdoll (Jan Sport/Nicky Doll) Rating: E

Read on AO3

Nine Years Ago

José was the type of kid that looked forward to recess more than any part of the day. He needed that time to run around and be loud, burn off some of that energy so he could at least try to sit still during the rest of the school day. His ADHD and general personality already made that an uphill battle for any teacher.

But after a good few minutes of running around on the playground, he found himself bored. Or at least, bored enough to notice a kid sitting by himself with his face buried in his notebook. Occasionally he would look up and around, like he was contemplating getting up and playing, but would end up only curling further into himself.

It took a split second, but José recognized him as the new kid. He was introduced to the class that morning but, even with the teachers’ encouragement, he didn’t have a whole lot to say. José was pretty sure half of the class would need to be reminded of his name before the day ended, and that just didn’t sit right with him.

Because on the other hand, José did not have a problem talking or remembering faces. No, he had an endless capacity to talk to and meet new people, so he sat right next to the shy blonde boy. “Hi! You’re Brock, right?”

Brock looked up, closing his notebook and setting it aside. There was a split second of hesitation before he answered him. “Um… yeah, hi,” he replied, shifting his legs so he was sitting with them crossed instead. “What’s your name?”

“José. Whatcha doin’ sitting by yourself?” He frowned, tilting his head. “Recess is for playing, you look like you was doing homework,” he observed, cocking his head the other way, towards the notebook at Brock’s feet.

“It’s not homework.” He shook his head, then thought for a beat. “Actually… I guess it is kind of like homework. But it’s not for school, it’s for my ballet class.”

José perked his head up with curious interest. “You do ballet? That’s so cool!”

Brock blinked in surprise. “You think it’s cool? Most people think it’s dumb, that boys aren’t supposed to take ballet,” he explained.

“Well, they’re wrong then. I think it’s cool. You should teach me something from your class sometime.”

“Yeah!” Brock beamed brightly, the excitement of having finally made a new friend bubbling over. Even then, he knew it was the start of a beautiful friendship.

Present Day

Brock woke up with a broad smile on his face. He glanced down. José was clinging to him like a koala, still sleeping soundly, and it was the most beautiful damn sight he had ever seen. It was hard to believe last night – the entirety of the previous day, really – actually happened. It felt like he was finally seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, like he was finally getting where he so desperately wanted to be for the longest time.

José yawned, his eyes squeezing shut before opening them. He slowly tilted his head up, smiling sleepily when he saw Brock watching him. “You watchin’ me sleep, B?”

“Just a little.” He chuckled, raking his fingers through his thick, brown hair. He gently scratched his head and laughed softly because José let out a noise that sounded like one of his cats purring.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he assured, kissing his forehead. “You’re just cute.”

José picked his head up, smiling at him before dropping back down to his chest. “You still corny as hell,” he murmured with a subdued laugh.

Brock smiled, squeezing him close. “Maybe so, but you’re the one that’s a sucker for it,” he retorted. The calm contentment didn’t last much longer as his upcoming schedule crept up on him. “You know I have to get down to the studio today. I wanna get in one last solid rehearsal before the competition tomorrow.”

“Alright,” José agreed. “But I’m going with you to make sure you keep that shit short and sweet. I’m not finna let you overexert yourself and wind up with sore-ass legs the morning of. And you better bet I’mma make sure you eat all your meals today.”

Brock blinked, taken back by the sudden assertiveness in the smaller teen’s tone. Though at the same time, he was touched. He thought it was sweet that he jumped right into making sure he took care of himself, he’d come to realize that was how José expressed affection. His mother was like that too, but it was especially endearing with him. “Okay, okay, I’ll try to prioritize self-care in the midst of this very important competition,” he told him.

“I’m just not ‘boutta let you psych yourself out,” he replied simply. “I know you’d do the same for me.”

Brock smiled, squeezing him close. “You’re right,” he leaned down and kissed his forehead before actually getting himself to sit up. “Is there any point in taking a shower if I’m gonna get all sweaty and gross in the studio?” He watched as his boyfriend lazily shook his head. “Alright, breakfast it is.”

José pushed into an upright position as well. “Yeah? Whatcha making me?”

“Cereal.”

------

Everything was business as usual when Brock and José entered the studio. But as Brock was warming up, José guided his coach off to the side for a moment. “Listen, we probably already on the same page for this, but I just wanna be sure. I don’t want him to push himself too hard today, ‘cause he’s gonna burn the candle on both hands and I want him to have energy and strength tomorrow, you know?”

Anna chuckled, clasping her hand on José’s shoulder. “I appreciate your concern, hon. And you’re not wrong about him. But it’s my job to keep him at his best, not just pushing him to his limits.”

He nodded, feeling a bit silly for going out of his way to say that – she was right, it was her job. But he couldn’t shake the need to take care of Brock. Maybe, he thought, it was because he wasn’t able to protect him from Kyle, and now he had to make sure he never let him get hurt again. Especially not because of him. “Right, yeah. You guys do your thing, I’ll just… be over there.”

“Hey.” She stopped him right before he could slip away. “He’s lucky to have a boyfriend like you.”

José opened his mouth to correct her, but then stopped himself and just smiled. “Thanks,” he said as he walked off to the side. Hearing Brock referred to as his boyfriend sounded like music to his ears and made his heart swell in his chest. He knew eventually they would have to put some sort of label onto whatever it was they had – he was never a fan of ambiguity. But he had also come to realize that talking about their feelings was like pulling teeth, so he had to broach the subject delicately.

Maybe that was why dancing came so naturally to them. José watched as Brock moved with such grace and ease, while still able to convey depth and passion that words could never capture. Words could get muddled and mixed up, the movement was straightforward and fluid, there was nothing to be miscommunicated.

Brock took a deep breath when he finally finished for the day, chugging down almost an entire bottle of water in one go. “That felt good. It felt solid.”

“You are gonna eat that shit up tomorrow,” José said with certainty. “Now c’mon, sweaty. You gotta hit the showers,” he added, walking with him into the locker room. “Oh, uh, my mama texted me during rehearsal. She wants to know if you wanna come over for dinner. And listen, you totally don’t have to if you just wanna rest up and take it easy or–”

“Are you kidding? I’d never turn down your mom’s cooking,” he said as he undressed and stepped into the shower.

“It’s not that, it’s um…” José was glad Brock was in the shower and not watching him shift and fidget awkwardly. “My older brother’s already home for Thanksgiving, and when he’s with my younger brother, they’re still a little, you know… rough around the edges.”

Brock shrugged, stepping back out and drying off shortly after. “I’m not worried about them. They can’t scare me off that easily,” he said, getting his clothes on and gathering his belongings up in his bag.

“That’s kinda hot,” José remarked with a smirk.

He laughed and threw his arm around the shorter teen as they left. “That’s the spirit. And hey, if they give us shit, we can just have loud sex in your room to get back at them.”

José looked up at him, admittedly a bit surprised that he was able to talk like that after just one time together. “Can… we do that even if they don’t?”

Brock snorted and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Yeah, even if they don’t.”

They went back to Brock’s house for the rest of the afternoon. After a light lunch, they retreated to the bedroom to watch TV. And they sat in relative silence until José cleared his throat. “I know we’re still shitty at talking about how we feel and all, but…” He gestured vaguely as he tried to figure out how to phrase it. “Anna called me your boyfriend and I really liked how it sounded. But I gotta know where you stand on that.”

Not unexpectedly, Brock didn’t know how to answer and sat silently for a few moments. In actuality, he knew exactly where he stood, he’d been standing there for eight years. But even knowing how José felt didn’t quell his fear of coming on too strong or taking it too far. So, just like always, he chose his words slowly and carefully. “I also like the idea of you being my boyfriend. I have for a while now. And… I see us together, not like the way we used to be, a better version of us together.”

Instead of a verbal response, José simply tackled Brock onto the bed and kissed him deeply. He couldn’t have articulated how he felt if he tried. There was happiness, relief, nerves, a little bit of arousal, just so much hitting at once. “Guess it’s official, then,” he murmured against his lips.

“It’s official,” Brock confirmed, holding him close and covering his face in small kisses. “We’re boyfriends again,” he beamed.

“Dinner’s gonna be a little more interesting now,” he mused, then glanced over and saw the time on his phone. “Which we better start getting ready for. She wants us there at six.”

Brock nodded, reluctantly untangling himself from José to change into a button-down shirt and jeans. He fixed up his hair and dabbed on a bit of cologne as well. “Alright, we good to go?”

José gave a thumbs up and the two of them left hand-in-hand, the same way they walked into his house. They looked around, his mother was in the kitchen and his brothers were on the couch, watching sports. “Don’t be fucking rude, say hi to Brock,” he said to them.

The two brothers looked up, nonplussed, and offered casual greetings before their attention completely refocused on the screen.

Realizing that that would be the extent of their interaction, Brock and José went and said hi to Anabel before going up to José’s bedroom. There, they waited idly until everyone was called in for dinner.

“So, what, you guys are dating again like when you were kids?” one of José’s brothers asked.

“You know what the difference is,” the older brother chimed in.

“Haha, gross.”

Their mother glared at them. “Ambos cierran la boca antes de que lo haga por ti,” she snapped in a firm warning that swiftly silenced them.

Brock and José didn’t do much but shift awkwardly. They weren’t completely wrong, in all fairness, but Brock definitely understood what José had meant by ‘rough around the edges’, and luckily they were able to make it through the meal without further incident.

When everyone was done and about to retire to their respective rooms, José’s older brother guided Brock off to the side. José noticed this and immediately went over to them. “Yo, I dunno what shit you’re about to pull but–”

“It’s okay, babe,” Brock assured. “Go upstairs, I’ll meet you there.” Then, he turned back to face the brother, standing in a way that he was taller and couldn’t be easily intimidated.

“Look,” he started, “I’m only saying this ‘cause I care about my little brother. I just think this shit’s weird. Not even ‘cause of the gay thing. But it’s just like… this childhood fantasy thing. How’s that ever gonna be a real love?”

The answer came surprisingly easy to Brock. At least, it must’ve, because he answered without his usual hesitation. “Yes, I fell in love with him when we were kids, that’s how I know it was real. Nothing else is as pure, as sincere. When you’re a child, you love with your whole heart, because that’s all you know how to do. That’s the type of love that stays with you forever. And that’s why I never fell out of love with him.”

José had been standing just out of their field of vision, listening in, in case he needed to step in and defend his boyfriend. But what he’d heard had caught him utterly by surprise and touched him in a way he’d never felt before. He didn’t hear how his brother responded, he rushed upstairs before either of them could notice.

Brock slowly opened the bedroom door, letting himself in. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” he said as he shut the door behind him. He didn’t get a verbal response, though. Instead, as soon as he was in his reach, José pulled him into a deep kiss that he melted right into. He fell back on the bed with him, refusing to be the first one to pull away.

Reluctantly, José pulled back when the urge to breathe beat out the desire to keep kissing. “I heard what you said,” he confessed, still breathless from the passionate embrace. “I heard what you said and I realized I love you too. I love you in a way I ain’t never loved before. And I don’t know what that means but I know it means a fucking lot.”

“I…” Brock’s head was spinning and his heart was pounding a mile a minute. He needed a moment just to take that all in – José had heard him admit his feelings, not only that, he reciprocated them. Their relationship had jumped up so many levels so fast, but at the same time, it felt like the natural progression – they were supposed to be in love, it’s what they were destined for. “God, it means everything to me to hear you say that.”

He smiled and kissed him again. “This has been one fuckin’ day, huh?”

“Yeah,” the blonde exhaled, laying down on his back with an arm wrapped around his boyfriend. “Dunno how I’m supposed to calm down and relax for tomorrow,” he remarked with a laugh.

Suddenly, José perked up with a smirk. “I know what to do about that,” he said and got up, pulling Brock along so he was sitting on the side of the bed.

Brock sat with his feet on the floor and watched while the shorter teen sunk to his knees. “Oh, I think I know where you’re going with this,” he grinned, carding his fingers through his hair.

“You’re just so smart,” José teased as he undid Brock’s jeans, tugging them down to his ankles with his boxers following suit. He looked up at him, making heavy eye contact as he spat on his hand and wrapped it around his length, stroking slowly and steadily.

It didn’t take much for Brock to start to get hard. He bit down on his lip, gaze fixated on José, who had built up his pace as he jerked him off, then teasingly lapped at the head of his cock.

José smirked to himself, then focused his attention exclusively on the task at hand. He dragged his tongue from the head all the way down and back up. Then, with one hand resting on Brock’s thigh to steady himself, he took his length in inch by inch, occasionally flicking his eyes back up to him.

“Shit…” Brock grunted softly, eyes fluttering shut and head tilting back. His breathing grew heavier and he bit down on his lip. He tangled his fingers through José’s hair, gripping just a bit.

After another moment, José had managed to get Brock’s length all the way down his throat. His forehead rested against his lower abdomen as he focused his breathing through his nose. The hand on his thigh grabbed tighter while his free hand wiggled into his jeans so he could get himself off as well.

Brock was struggling to keep himself still and quiet, unsure if he was able to do both. The hand that wasn’t tugging José’s hair was clamped over his mouth to stifle his moans. As much as he tried to keep his body planted firmly on the bed, his hips rolled up every now and then.

José didn’t mind it. In fact, he thought it was hot that he could get him to lose control like that. He bobbed his head faster, with more fervor, eager to get him off.

And it was working. It was working very well. Brock was moaning louder, his hips were jerking erratically. He was cursing under his breath and all but yanking José’s hair. He tried to get out a warning, but when his orgasm hit, all he could do is cry out his lover’s name in a heated moment of pleasure.

José was ready, picking up on the physical cues and relaxed his throat in anticipation. He swallowed his load, lingering until he was certain his boyfriend was fully spent, then slowly eased off of him. In that time, he’d gotten himself off as well, making quick work of cleaning off before he stood back up and kissed him. “You relaxed now?”

Brock needed a moment to catch his breath. “Oh yeah.” He nodded. “I’m gonna sleep like a baby tonight.”

José grinned in satisfaction, getting in bed, pleased with a job well done. Their day may have been a rollercoaster, but they were ending it in each other’s arms, so it was all worth it.

#branjie #branjie fic #rpdr rpf

[alounuitte]

an interpersonal demonstration of newton's third law

(3. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.) Lance is just trying to bond when he jokes around with his new teammates. Making fun of each other is just what buddies do, right? He's not TRYING to go straight after anyone's weak spots, after all, and it's not his fault he doesn't know what Pidge is sensitive about. Not that Pidge is taking that into account at the time.

(cw for (accidental/unknowing) misgendering/transphobia in this.)

also on AO3 under LovelyLessie!

--

“That doesn’t look right,” Hunk says, leaning over the couch to peer over Pidge’s shoulder as he works. “Are you sure that goes there?”

“Well, it didn’t, to begin with,” Pidge replies without looking up from the half-assembled machinery in front of him. “But I thought if I moved it over here I could use it to connect the fragmentation buffer to the thrust mechanism -“ 

“Ohh,” Hunk says, his eyes going wide, before he frowns. “Wait. What does that do?” 

“Something nerdy,” Lance calls, leaning back to rest his feet on the table as he shakes his head at them. “What are you guys even doing, anyways?” Whatever it is, they’ve been at it since they all got back from training, but he doesn’t see what’s so exciting about some busted up junk they salvaged from who even knows where, and he’s getting bored of sitting here waiting for Hunk to be finished geeking out. 

“Shut up, Lance,” Pidge says, still not looking up. “I’m trying to use the thrust mechanism to boost the power for the buffer and amplify its effect. If it works we might be able to adapt it to the lions -“ 

“Right, right,” Hunk agrees. “But what good is a fragmentation buffer for our lions? Isn’t that for processing data?” 

“Do you think the lions don’t process data?” Pidge asks, sitting back and pushing his glasses up his nose as he glances over his shoulder at Hunk. “From each other, from the ship, from our heads when we’re piloting them! The buffer could help streamline that input…” 

“And improve our connection!” Hunk says eagerly, his face breaking into a grin. 

“Exactly,” Pidge agrees. 

“Well, that’s good for you guys, I guess,” Lance interjects. “Me, I’ve got a great connection with my lion. Blue and me understand each other just fine, so my girl doesn’t need any new modifications, thanks.” Besides, if he wants to get closer to the Blue Lion, he can do it without anybody else’s help. So what if he still hasn’t figured out the trick to seeing through her eyes? Neither has anyone else here, just Shiro, who’s on the bridge talking to Allura about something, and that’s different. Shiro’s the leader. 

“Great,” Pidge says, looking back at the machinery. “Good thing I’m not talking to you about it.” 

“Hey!” he protests, sitting upright. “What, you want to offer your genius improvements to everyone else?” Not that he needs it, he tells himself, it’s the principle of it. 

“That’s so not what I said,” Pidge groans, rolling his eyes. 

“Didn’t you just say you didn’t need it, anyways?” Hunk points out, frowning. “If it even works -“ 

“It’s gonna work!” Pidge says. “I just gotta figure out - how to -“ 

There’s a clicking sound and a crackle in the air, and a blue spark jumps from the metal to his arm. 

“Ow, quiznak!” he yelps, jumping back and holding his hand to his chest. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.” 

“Don’t get yourself killed,” Keith says from the other side of the lounge, his eyes still closed. 

“Aw, no one asked you,” Lance points out, scowling. He’d almost forgotten Keith was still sitting there, since he’s the only one in the room being even more boring than the nerd squad here. “You okay, Pidge?” 

“Let me have a try,” Hunk suggests before Pidge can answer, and clambers over the back of the couch to sit on the floor next to him. “I know you’re the computer whiz here, but maybe you should leave the reconstruction to a mechanic.” 

“Yeah, that’s my man,” Lance says, grinning. Maybe if Hunk can figure out whatever dumb thing Pidge wants to do with this, he’ll be satisfied, and then they can go do something fun. There’s an awful lot of this castle they still haven’t had much chance to explore.

“Sure, have at it,” Pidge says.

Hunk frowns into the internals of the machine, rubbing his chin with one hand. “Huh. Might need to replace the wires, actually, I think you might’ve fried them -“ 

“It wasn’t me!” Pidge protests. 

“Oh, yes, it was,” Hunk says, tilting the pile of junk so he can see better. “You’ve got residual power in the antethermal capacitor, so if you connect it directly -“ 

“Ugh,” Pidge groans, slapping his forehead with one hand. “Of course.”

Lance laughs. “Guess you’re not such a genius after all!”

“Lance, shut up,” he says again, casting a glare across the lounge. 

“But if we route the wiring through the kineticule first,” Hunk says, fiddling with something inside the machine, “that should channel the energy more cleanly, so you can hook up to the thrust mechanism without getting zapped, just… like…that!” 

“Yeah!” Pidge cries, jumping up with a smile. “Way to go!”

Lance yawns loudly and heaves a dramatic sigh, hoping that’ll get Hunk’s attention now that he’s done with his lame science project. “Boring,” he tells them both, and jumps to his feet. “Who wants to find Shiro and see if he has anything actually cool for us to do?” 

“Oh, my God, shut up!” Pidge tells him again, his voice rising to a squeak and cracking. He quickly covers his mouth with both hands, cheeks flushing red. 

Lance tries not to laugh, really, he does, but he can’t help it. “Aw,” he manages, “Pidge, you finally hit puberty!”

“What?” Pidge demands, dropping the screwdriver he’s holding to the floor. 

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” Lance says, still laughing. “It happens to everyone, just ‘cause you’re a late bloomer—“

“It’s not funny,” Pidge says, his voice rising to a shout. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Lance continues, ignoring him. “You’ll be a real man like the rest of us soon enou—oof—“ 

He doesn’t see Pidge move in time to react, barely processes him jumping over the table before a fist connects with his jaw and sends him staggering backwards. 

“Ow!” he yelps, holding his face with both hands. “What the quiznak, dude?” 

“Asshole!” Pidge shouts, glowering at him, fists still raised and ready to throw another punch. “What the hell is your problem?” 

“My problem?” Lance asks, dumbfounded. “What’s your problem? I was just joking, you didn’t have to hit me!” 

“Well, your jokes - aren’t - funny!” Pidge yells again. Before Lance can even begin to reply, he spins on his heel and bolting out of the room, footsteps pounding down the corridor until they fade into the distance. 

“What the fuck was that?” Lance asks, forgetting to censor himself in his shock. His jaw and cheek are throbbing, and he can taste blood in his mouth. For a kid that small, Pidge can sure throw a punch. He looks between Hunk and Keith for any kind of answer, but they’re both staring down the corridor after Pidge in open-mouthed silence, and neither of them seems to even remember he’s there. 

—

The sound of shouting gets Shiro’s attention, and he jumps to his feet, shoulders tensing, heart pounding against his ribs. Something must be wrong. 

He takes off towards the common room at a run, listening for the commotion to continue, but everything seems to be quiet again, and he doubts it's a good sign. Maybe it’s not the most positive outlook on life, but in their current circumstances, it’s better to assume a disaster is ongoing until he sees it resolved with his own eyes. 

As he nears the common room he drops his pace back to a quick walk, standing upright and ready to take control of the situation. His eyes dart around the room as he enters, taking it in. Hunk is sitting on the floor in front of some kind of dismantled machinery, Keith in a chair with one leg drawn up to his chest, Lance standing in the middle of the room clutching his face, and Katie - where’s Katie? 

“What’s going on?” he demands, looking between the three other paladins. “Where’s Pidge? Lance, what’s the matter with your face?” 

“He hit me,” Lance whines, and lowers his hands to reveal the side of his face, red and slightly swollen. 

“Hit you?” Shiro asks, frowning, and looks to the others for confirmation. “Pidge?” 

“He kind of deserved it,” Keith says quietly, looking away. 

Hunk shrugs awkwardly. “I mean, I wasn’t gonna say it, but…” 

“Come on, guys!” Lance says, pouting. “I was just teasing him! I thought we were bonding, or something!” 

“Is that how you bond with people?” Keith asks under his breath. Lance shoots him a sullen look. 

“Looks like he got you pretty good,” Shiro says, folding his arms. 

“I didn’t even know he could hit that hard,” Lance says. “I mean, what’s he weigh, a hundred pounds?”  

“Hm,” Shiro says. “Why don’t you come to the kitchen with me and we’ll get some ice for that.” 

“Uh, I mean, I can go get it myself,” Lance says, his brows drawing together in confusion. “You don’t have to come with me.” 

“I’m sure you can,” Shiro agrees, resting a hand on his shoulder and steering him towards the hall. “But I’d like to go along, just to be safe.” 

Lance wilts slightly, dropping his gaze to the ground. “Okay,” he mumbles, and shuffles into the hallway with Shiro at his side. 

When they’re around the corner, far enough not to be overheard, Shiro finally asks, “So, what exactly did you say to Pidge that made him angry enough to punch you?” 

“It was just a joke,” Lance says again. “His voice cracked while he was talking, so I said he must be hitting puberty, but I didn’t mean to make him mad!” 

“I know you didn’t,” Shiro says, keeping his voice careful and level. “But he just came up and hit you for that?” 

“I mean, he got all surprised, and I told him I was just joking,” Lance says. “Only he still seemed all bent out of shape about it! So I said don’t take it so hard, he’ll be a man soon, and that’s when he hit me.” 

Shiro takes a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth in a heavy sigh. He knows Lance doesn’t know just how cruel his comments must have felt to Katie, but he still can’t let it slide entirely. “So, he was clearly upset by your joke, and you made another one?” 

“I just…” Lance says, his shoulders slumping. “Wanted to diffuse the tension, ya know?” 

They reach the kitchen, and Shiro ushers Lance to a chair while he goes to find ice, or something like it. “I understand,” he says. “I’ll talk to Pidge about it. But in the future, if a member of your team is upset by something you said, perhaps you should apologize instead.” 

Lance hunches his shoulders, looking downcast. “I was just teasing,” he mumbles. 

Shiro pulls some kind of cryopack out of the freezer, cold to the touch and faintly glowing. He’s not sure exactly what’s in this, but it’s safe enough to cool food, at least for Alteans; he hopes that’s not different for humans, not just for his purposes now but because they’ve all eaten food out of that freezer. 

Wrapping it in a cloth, he hands it over to Lance and rests a hand on his shoulder again. “Thanks,” Lance says, still staring at the floor. 

“I know you didn’t mean any harm,” Shiro tells him. “But not everyone takes well to being teased, and you can’t always know what someone might be sensitive about.” 

“Sorry, Shiro,” Lance mutters, cradling the cold pack to the side of his face. 

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” he says firmly. “But if you want to make it up to me, you can do it by paying more attention to how the others are feeling, and treating them accordingly. These are your teammates, Lance, remember. You’ll work better together - and have an easier time forming Voltron - if you try to be aware of how your words and actions affect them.” 

“Yes, sir,” Lance agrees, and nods. “I’ll try to pay more attention.” 

“Good,” Shiro says, patting his shoulder, and gives him an encouraging smile. “You might want to give Pidge some time to cool off before you apologize, though. Maybe you could do it later this evening.” 

“I guess so,” Lance says, looking a little put-out. 

Shiro nods and turns away. “I’m going to go talk to him, as well,” he says. “Even if you did upset him, I don’t want my team resorting to violence like that.”

—

Pidge stares up at the ceiling above her bunk, her hands still curled into fists even laying at her sides. Her chest is so tight she feels like she can barely breathe, and tears are burning in her eyes, but they won’t seem to spill over even now that she’s stopped trying to fight them back. 

Crying sucks, but not as much as not being able to cry. 

She bites her lip, willing the tears to either fall or just go away already, but it doesn’t help. There’s a lump in her throat the size of her fist, and swallowing won’t make it go away, or make the knot in her stomach loosen. 

Hearing her voice get all squeaky like that was bad enough. It’s not like she didn’t know it would happen, eventually, after her last injection wore off, but it doesn’t make it easier. The last thing she needs on top of it all is Lance taunting her for it.

A knock at the door brings her out of her thoughts, and she turns over to face the wall. “Go away,” she calls back, wrapping her arms around herself. “I don’t wanna talk.” 

“Pidge,” says a voice from outside. Oh, quiznak. It’s Shiro. “Can I come in for just a few minutes?” 

“I said go away!” she yells, her throat going tight as her voice strains, and she swallows hard again, her jaw trembling. 

There’s a pause before Shiro speaks again. “I don’t want to give you orders, and I’d rather talk to you as your friend than as your commander, but this is important.” 

She considers refusing again, but she knows it’s not Shiro she’s angry at. “Okay,” she says with a sigh. “I guess you can come in.” 

The door hisses open, and then shut, and Shiro’s footsteps approach her bunk. After a long moment, he says, “I talked to Lance about what happened.” 

“You didn’t hear what he said,” she snaps back without turning to look at him. “If you were there—“ 

“I would have told you both to take it easy,” Shiro tells her firmly. “I got the gist of it, between him and the others, and I already told him he was out of line. But I can’t have my crew coming to blows over a hurtful joke.” 

She hunches her shoulders, wishing she could make herself small enough to just disappear. “Sorry, Shiro,” she mumbles to the wall. 

He sighs. “You don’t need to apologize to me. Just try to do better.” He pauses for a moment again, and she can almost hear him thinking before he adds, quietly, “Would your father approve of that?” 

She’d seen it coming, but it still feels like a blow to the gut. “You tell me,” she says, her voice trembling a little, her vision blurring. 

“Katie…” Shiro says behind her. 

She swallows hard, screwing her eyes shut. “Dad always hated violence,” she says. “But he also always said there are some people you can’t reason with.” 

When Shiro doesn’t answer she turns to look at him, drawing her legs up to her chest as she sits up. He’s crouched a few feet away so he has to look up at her, his arms folded and resting on his knees, a serious look on his face. 

“When I came out,” she continues after a moment, “he told me, ‘Katie, there are people out there who might try to hurt you for who you are. I’m going to do my best to protect you from them, but if I’m not there, you do anything you need to to protect yourself.’”

She sniffles and looks away. 

“I know I shouldn’t have hit Lance,” she mumbles after a moment. “Even if he knew, I don’t think he’d hurt me. Not the way Dad meant, anyways. It’s just -“ 

Her throat goes tight and she tries to steady herself, taking a deep, careful breath. 

“I was due for my next shot six months ago,” she says in a rush, “and Mom and I were talking before I ran away about how next year I could probably start hormones, and now I’m not gonna and everyone thinks I’m a boy now and - and - it sucks, is all.” 

Shiro nods seriously, brows drawing together. “That’s got to be hard on you,” he agrees. 

She chokes back a sob, the tears she’s been trying so hard to fight suddenly spilling over her cheeks. “I know I overreacted,” she manages thickly, “I should’ve kept my head, I’ve just been - so - so -“ 

“You’re going through a lot right now,” he says, and finally gives her a faint smile. “Trust me, I’ve been there.”

“You have?” she asks, unsure.

He nods again. “Once or twice. I know it’s easy to lose your temper when you’re under so much stress.” 

Pidge laughs shakily, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “I guess so,” she says. “Sorry for, um - all of...this.” 

“You don’t have to be,” he assures her, and stands, crossing the room to rest a hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright, Pidge. It’s a leader’s job to be there for his team, no matter what they need.” 

“Sounds like something my dad would say,” she replies, grinning up at him, and climbs to her feet to give him a hug. 

—

Lance sighs as he heads down the hall towards Pidge’s room, his hands shoved in his pockets. Maybe the past two hours have given Pidge time to chill out, but he’s never been great at figuring out what to say to anyone ahead of time, so all Lance has to show for waiting is a bunch of nerves he doesn’t know what to do with and only the vaguest idea of what he’s going to talk about, despite Hunk’s attempts to offer advice. 

Outside the door, he stops, rocks back and forth on his heels with a frown. Okay, come on, he tells himself, closing his eyes. All he’s gotta do is go in there and say he’s sorry and he won’t do it again. That’s not hard. 

He takes a deep breath and knocks.

It’s a few seconds before the door opens, Pidge glaring up at him on the other side. “What?” he asks flatly, folding his arms. 

“Uh,” Lance says, his mouth suddenly going dry. He must look pretty stupid, he realizes, standing here in the hallway gaping at Pidge. “Look, I,” he begins, shifting his weight uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, about earlier. For saying that stuff. I guess I was being kind of a jerk.” 

“Oh, you think?” Pidge mutters, his voice all acid, and looks away. 

“Okay, okay, I was definitely being a jerk,” he says, hunching his shoulders. “I shouldn’t’ve made fun of you. I guess--” He makes a face. “I guess maybe Keith’s right, that’s not how you bond with people. I mean, my brothers teased me for stuff all the time when I was younger, and my sisters too for that matter, but that’s kinda different, right?”

“Yeah,” Pidge sighs, and his skinny shoulders slouch. 

“I guess I just thought, joking around and stuff usually makes people like you, you know?” Lance continues in a hurry. “But it’s not really - I mean, making people laugh isn’t the same as getting to know them, and since we’re, like, a team now, I guess we should… try to…”

He trails off, shaking his head. What the fuck is he even saying? This talk is getting into dangerous territory real fast, and anyways, he’s not here to talk about his feelings. Pull it together, he tells himself, trying to refocus. 

“Anyways,” he says, “I just wanted to say sorry. I won’t - uh, I’ll try not to… make fun of you like that anymore.” 

“Thanks,” Pidge says, and rubs the back of his neck. “Um… I’m sorry, too. For punching you, I mean. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Thanks,” he says. “Man, to be honest? I’m kind of impressed! I didn’t think you could hit that hard.”

Pidge laughs at that, and Lance sighs, relieved that the tension seems to have passed. “Well,” Pidge says, “I guess I’m full of surprises.”

“So,” Lance says, offering his hand. “Are we cool?”

Pidge frowns again, looking him up and down. “You better not do it again,” he says after a moment. “I won’t deck you next time, but I will tell Shiro.” 

“I won’t,” Lance says quickly. “I mean, not about that. I’m still gonna make fun of you for being a nerd, though.”

“That’s fair,” Pidge replies, and gives him a crooked smile. “Yeah, I guess we’re cool.” 

--

Pidge is surprised by another knock at the door as she’s getting ready for bed, and she quickly pulls on her pajama top before calling, “Yeah?”

“Hey,” Shiro says as the door opens, peering inside. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” she says, flopping down on her bed. 

“How are you doing?” he asks, leaning against the wall as the door slides closed behind him. “Lance said he talked to you.”

“Yeah,” she replies, drawing her knees up to her chest. “He was actually pretty nice about it.” She laughs sheepishly and rubs the back of her neck, giving Shiro a rueful grin. “I mean, at least he admitted he screwed up, which was more than I expected.” 

“I’m glad,” Shiro replies, smiling back faintly. “You seem like you’re feeling better, too.”

She nods. “Um,” she adds after a moment, “sorry for overreacting like that.”

“Come talk to me next time, alright?” he says, and takes a step closer to put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m happy to help sort out an argument, but I’d rather do it before it comes to blows.”

“Yes, sir,” she says, and looks down. “But, um… I don’t think there will be a next time, actually.”

“Oh?” he replies, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’m...gonna tell the others,” she says. “That I’m a girl. Maybe - maybe not tomorrow, but… soon.”

His slight smile breaks into a grin. “That’s great,” he says, patting her shoulder firmly. “I’m proud of you, Katie. And I know your family would be, too.” 

She laughs, taking off her glasses and setting them aside on the shelf above her bed. “Thanks,” she tells him. “And, you know - I’m actually pretty okay with Pidge.”

#pidge gunderson #katie holt #lance mcclain #vld pidge #vld lance #voltron legendary defender #vldfic #willwrites #katie holt is trans and there's nothing you can do about it. #belong to the sky verse

[bohrapbois]

Four (Six Underground) Blurb

So I found this in my drafts. Posting it out here to see if anyone would like to see this continued? Please let me know!

18+

(Original idea was about Four getting anxiety and panic attacks when ambushed or in fights etc... But can change if any of you guys have a better idea which is very likely)

It was the prickling on the back of his neck that had Four contemplating his current situation. In theory, he was safe, probably the safest he had been in a while seeming as usually he was leaping from the top of a very tall building to another equally taller building, yet as Seven threw another punch, Fours heart leapt into his throat as he staggered backwards, a weak defence held in front of his face. 

They were sparring, getting a bit of a warm up before the next mission. It was not going to be anywhere near as dangerous as the one they’d just finished, but One had decided that they needed to get back out there and at least stop a drug ring which was using children as the runners. And anyway, Four needed to be back at his best, now that his arm was fully healed. So, he shook his head briefly, cursing under his breath before he box stepped once, twice, before throwing a punch. He followed with another, aimed lower, and he grinned as he hit Seven’s stomach. They had minimum body armour on, enough to avoid hurting too much and their hands were wrapped to soften the impact, but still, Blaine gritted his teeth. 

Amelia stood to the side lines and waved off the pained groan coming from Billys opponent as she chewed on another orange segment. The sparring ring was in the middle of a few shipping crates,  with some big rocks they found marking the four corners. If it got too much, they could just step out of the ring and call a time-out. Usually, the rest of the ghosts would jeer and heckle but in a joking way, slowly learning to accept each other's boundaries. Camillie and Javier were sitting on some of the old plane seats they’d dragged out to watch the show, and Javier was now cheering for Billy, Camillie backing Blaine. One was somewhere further back, deciding the heat was too much and using the shade as a brief relief. But behind his sunglasses, he was observing both of their movements. 

One let a few more punches be thrown, winced when Seven caught Four on the jaw, but decided to call for it to come to a stop when Four went the defensive route, holding up his arms as he used his quick feet to try and avoid the well aimed punches.

“That’s enough,” One stepped out of the shadows, squinting in the bright sun regardless of his eye wear. He ignored the boos coming from the audience, walking into the ring towards Four and Seven who had his arm around the younger man with a bright and cheery grin. 

They all made their way into the main complex, Billy tucked under Seven’s arm as he let the adrenaline of the sparring run through his system. He blamed that for his fidgeting, and for how his collar felt too tight, or how he just couldn’t focus, even after both One and Five told him to calm down.

It had been an important meeting in reality, finally they had enough intel to make a good move, and One had run through it in as much detail as he could. Everyone had their positions, had a handout of what they needed to know, yet Billy sat there, blinking down at his single piece of paper. It seemed that everyone else had a small novel in their hands, yet Billy had a neatly typed out piece of paper, a small map drawn at the bottom, but nothing else.

Like a school boy, Billy raised his hand, waiting to be called by One. He heard the sigh coming from their leader and heavy footsteps came to stand next to him. He pulled his eyes up from the paper and saw a scowling One looming over him, eyebrows drawn in an annoyed gesture. He opened his mouth to say something, yet nothing came from his throat, so Billy ended up just raising the paper in his hands. 

“For your own fucking safety” One sighed, before dropping down so he was eye level with Four, “your our eyes on this thing, and I don’t want you getting into any hand-to-hand just for one of us to have to come and safe your dumb ass, cambrice?” 

Billy frowned but nodded, the frog still in his throat as he went back to looking at the paper and he zones out, ignoring the annoyed tears burning his eyes as the rest of the meeting is wrapped up. He feels everyone else leave the plane, but he’s still slumped in his seat, his hands now shaking as he accidentally crumpled the paper in his hands. He’d been sidelined. He knew he would, the moment he asked for help he knew that One wouldn’t want him anymore. But he guessed he knew too much now so he was kept around kind of like the group pet. They probably laughed about him behind his back, he knew his other running crew did, but still, the knowledge that he was the laughing stock again hurt.

“Hey hey hey,” a chair was pulled up in front of him, One sitting down heavily and leaning forward, hands interlaced as he studied the boy in front of him, “kid, calm the fuck down, okay?” The leader whispered, and Four couldn’t help but shy away, knowing now that his tears had over spilt, and his body was shaking with the emotion he was trying to keep in.

“Look,” One pulled the chair forward until their knees touched, and he grabbed one of Billy's hands, stopping the chattering of shaking paper, “you got hit pretty bad back on the boat, ok? I want to make sure you can handle your shit before throwing you in with the dogs”.

“I can,” Billy couldn’t help his yell, teary eyes finally coming to look at the face in front. One looked at him pitifully, and it made a rage inside Billy burn, “I fucking can! I’ve been doing this my whole life! It ain’t the first time I got hurt!” He spat, snatching his hand away from One, letting the crumbled piece of paper fall to the floor below, “I ain’t fucking weak, ok? I-I can do this! More than this!”

One sighed, head dropping forward between his shoulder blades, looking down at his feet. “‘Lright, I know you can, but we think it’s best if you stay away from bad guys fists for some time”. 

“We?” Billy stood suddenly, his chair falling behind him dramatically. He stood close, making One bend his neck to look up at him. “You all been talking about me? Yeah? You fucking dick, you all are. Can’t fucking belive it! You're just like them, you know? You should’ve just let me fucking die when I fell! But instead you dragged me into all this shit, for what? Your own stupid goals? Fuck you”, Billy spat on the floor between them before rushing out of the exit. 

Seven and Two stood there, waiting for him to come out, and Four couldn’t hold back his anger as he lunged at Seven, shoving him backwards and watched him fall into the desert mud surrounding them. Billy glared at Camille before he rushed back to his own trailer, slamming the metal door behind him.

-------

They had to leave for the mission, and like hell was One going to let Four keep this temper tantrum going. He’d been put in a safe position, that’s all. One was actually trying to protect someone this time! Yet, like usual, it all exploded in his face.

The next morning, with the sun already blasting hot although low in the sky, One made his way over to Fours trailer. The kid hadn’t come out last night at all, not even for the communal dinner they recently started doing. He knew he’d hurt his feelings, but fuck feelings. He should’ve just thrown him in at the deep end and see if he could swim, but no, instead he’d become protective of the boy and had wanted to keep him involved but at least a bit further back. If the dick had just listened, he would’ve heard how important he actually was to that, but nah, he’d acted like a brat. 

He racked his knuckles on the heavy door once out of courtesy before slamming the door open, stepping in as he pulled his sunglasses down. A glass was thrown at his head, and he’d just managed to duck before it collided with his head. Another came sailing towards him, and One let out a yell. “What the fuck?!” He spotted Four, sitting in one of the overly large chairs in the corner, aiming another glass his way, so One raised his hands in hopes it would come across as a surrender. It seemed to work as Four began lowering the glass as he continued to glare. 

One took his chance, rushing the younger man and grabbing his arms, pulling him up and out the chair. Four started fighting back, straining his arms as he tried to overbalance them, and everyone outside could hear the yelling between them. The Ghosts rushed into the trailer, instantly over crowding it but they managed to get the fighting to stop as Three wrapped his arms around Fours upper arms and hosting him in the air. Four tried to headbutt his way out of it, but Javier was taller, able to move his head out the way as he marched out. 

Four stopped fighting once they got outside, eyes screwed closed against the hot sun as he spat out curse words instead. He got dropped, and he stumbled forward, but it wasn’t far as Seven grabbed his arm to keep him upright. Four raised his arm to restart the fight, but Blaine raised his own, “don’t you even try it, kid,” he warned, and when Billy could see through the glaring sun, he saw the rest of the group backing up Blaine. Instead, he spat on the floor, lowering his arm but keeping tense. Right now, he was overly pissed with this lot, and willing to fight them, but he knew when his odds looked rough.

They marched him onto the plane, and he got shoved into a seat with more force than necessary. Maybe he deserved it, but it still hurt when everyone else sat away from him. He hid his disappointment by pulling his hood up and over his head, low over his eyes as he turned to face the window, arms crossed over his fast beating heart. The engines whirred to life, and he hid his shiver by readjusting in his seat.

He remembered all at once the feeling of being so beaten they had to guide him into this very seat. They’d been so gentle with him then, Two sorting out a sling and apologising each time he flinched. His arm went cold with phantom pain, and he bit his inner cheek to quieten the hiss of pain. He remembered the feeling of hope when he saw One appear above him on that boat, he felt the tears he’d cried when the adrenaline had ran off, he heard the whispered soothing words from his team mates.

They’d cared for him. But now it seemed they hated him.

Why did they bother bringing him here? He wasn’t going to be doing anything important in this. He was just going to be sat on the top of a close building to watch as they fought the bad guys below. 

He was unsure how long he’d been glaring through the window, but suddenly someone sat in the chair opposite. Two, looking at him as he turned towards her, yet remaining silent. She kicked her legs up on the table separating them, glancing at his tightly crossed arms as she raised an eyebrow. “You got to get over yourself,” she started, not even startled by the annoyed curses he sent her way. “You need to keep an eye on us today. Someone could sneak up on us and we could be ambushed”.

“Blaine is a sniper. He’ll be looking after you all. You guys just brought me here to rub it in my fucking face,” he sneered, not moving from where he was sitting. In the corner of his eye, he could see the others looking towards him. He knew One and Blaine were listening over the intercom, and could practically hear them rolling their eyes. 

“Blaine is going to be looking down a scope the whole time,” Two pointed out, picking at a loose thread of her jeans. Her expression never changes so it’s hard to understand what she was thinking about him. Probably something about how shit he was. “You have the best eyes of us all. You can look over the entire facility, which we need, to make sure that no one is escaping or trying to do anything shitty”.

Billy huffed, turning back to the window. What did they expect him to say? He didn’t really have anything to say to that. Ok, yeah, they could do with him, alright, but they also could’ve used him better than this. Sneak attack from the roof? Done. Planting bombs from up high? Check. Going in and gathering more info? Right down his alley. But no, they had him sitting and watching as they got to save kids and destroy a rancid drug cartel. 

“Look,” Five spoke, although Four was not willing to turn, “we know the last time you were on watch, something bad happened. We didn’t mean for Six to die like that, we know you two were … close,” she shifted as Four turned his hurt filled gaze to her. 

“Don’t fucking speak about him, okay? He’s dead and that’s it,” Four hated the burn of tears coming back to his eyes, and he turned back to the window. “Let me know if you guys intend to kill anyone else off, I might just volunteer”.

“Billy, come on,” Five sighed, but Three grabbed her arm and a quick shake of her head stopped her from saying any more. There was no point in poking this fire, it was dying out anyway.

The rest of the journey was silent. No one spoke, One didn’t even have anything to say, and by the time it came to land, Four was exhausted. All his emotions from the last day had burnt out, and he felt empty. He got off the plane, hands buried deep in his pockets as the cool European air bit against their exposed skin. Yeah, he didn’t miss this when he moved to America.

He hung back, the others walking in a group up ahead, although Javier hung back a bit, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Billy wasn’t going to dart away, but the kid just walked along a few paces behind them, eyes downcast as they walked towards a few cars. Three held the door open and gestured for Four to jump in. 

Sitting in the back, Billy slid down low in his seat and looked down at the footwell. Ok, maybe he’d over reacted a bit, but he didn’t want to be dumped again. He wasn’t going to apologise, they were all adults with anger problems anyway, so it’s not like they’d actually stay that mad at him for long anyway. He was the team pet anyway, only here to make them look better. 

#Ben Hardy #four #six underground #four six underground #blurb #billy #my work #my writing #my fic