#taking my collar OFF feels nice because it feels good to have my own agency over it

[fruityfaggot]

trying to learn how to love myself again. trying to remember how to revel in the little things

#collaring myself feels nice #i wish it was someone else. but it's still nice #taking my collar OFF feels nice because it feels good to have my own agency over it #it's early and i'm trying to take in the silence #there's plenty of noise from the road outside #because it's 57 degrees out and i'm under a big fluffy blanket so i have my window open #but the apartment is quiet #it's nice. it's nice. i'm trying to focus on the now and not yearn to be up at this hour in portland #anyway. gotta think of a tag for my posts. was gonna make it fruit.txt but now that i type it out idk

[full-cowlings]

Lap Dance - Adult! Izuku Midoriya Smut

Being the number one hero and the new Symbol Of Peace was hard on Midoriya. He has been training his whole life for this moment, and he knew it would be tough, not only the process, but when he got to the top and how he’d have to struggle to try to keep the title. But that came naturally to him.

But the job was a very stressful one, often leaving Midoriya Izuku tired, stressed and often tense. He wasn’t able to relax very often, due to constantly worrying something was going to happen. He always used to worry about everything when he was younger, and that habit had carried on to his adulthood as well.

His wife, Y/N L/N had noticed this, and decided she would do something nice for him, thinking he earned it.

She had sent him a text, telling him she asked for him to have a day off, to which his agency agreed. And for him to come home and head to the bedroom as she had a surprise for him.

Izuku was confused, but he complied and didn’t question. As he knew Y/N often had a good reason to the things she did.

As soon as he finished what he was doing, he drove him, secretly excited about what the surprised was going to be. When he got home, he parked the car and walked into the house. When he opened the door, Izuku was immediately greeted with the sound of sensual music playing from the hallway, slightly muffled by the door of their shared bedroom.

This, peeked his interest and he started to get a little more excited about what was going to happen next. He kicked his normal red shoes off of his feet, walking towards the bedroom.

When he got to the door, he slowly opened it (SAYORI!?) and was met with rose petals scattered around a chair in the middle of the room. The lights were off and the only thing that illuminated the room were several candles that were on the dresser and end tables. Izuku’s eyebrow rose as he saw a note taped to the chair. Curiosity got the best of him as he picked up the taped note.

He read it,

Hey love, I have a special surprise planned out for you tonight,

I want you to do something for me.

Just sit on the chair and relax, let me do the rest. Can you do that for me? I’ll be waiting, Xx.

His curiosity peeked even more and he placed the note on the side, sitting down in the chair as he had been asked to. Izuku fiddled with his thumbs nervously, an old habit he has. Suddenly, the door opened and in walked Y/N.

(Hehehe, warning; Play Boy Bunny alert. Because ya author can’t get enough of that damn type of outfit ;) )

She was wearing a black leotard, that was low cut in both the chest area and her lower region, exposing some of her breasts, thighs and ass. She had on a white collar with matching black bow attached to it, along with wide fishnet stockings, exposing her skin to him.

Her hair was let down and loose, falling freely to her shoulders (Ignore that statement if your hair is short lmfaooo). She had white cuffs on her wrists, and matching black bunny ears that sat on her head.

Izuku's mouth went slightly agape as he wasn’t expecting Y/N to be wearing something like that, nor something so revealing as it was.

Y/N smirked at him, slowly walking towards him, swaying her hips teasingly as she strutted.

She circled the chair slowly, her hips still swaying slowly. She caressed Izuku's shoulders, slowly dragging her finger tips across them and down his shoulders. Izuku shivered slightly from her touch, her touch alone still being able to send him into bliss.

Y/N then stood in front of him, casually, and almost lethargically she swayed, in front of him intimately running her hands up and down her body, her movements designed to try to arouse and anticipate him. Her hips gyrated suggestively, as she looked into his eyes. In a slow walk, she approached, licking her lips suggestively.

She then sat in his lap, placing her legs on either side of him as she straddled him. She looked into his eyes suggestively as she wrapped both her arms around his neck.

She then started to grind her hips against his lap, moving in an elegant yet sensual way. Her hips rocking back and forth against his own, Izuku letting out a quiet groan at the contact and held her hips gently, helping her move slightly.

She leaned her face close to his own, as he too leaned in, wanting to kiss her. But before he could, she pulled back teasingly. Continuing to move her hips against crotch, now moving her hips in steady circles. Izuku moaned at the friction, his head dipping back slightly as he let her work her magic.

She then stood up from his lap, Izuku quietly whining at the loss of contact and friction. Y/N smirked, leaning down between his legs and slowly started to drag her hands up his sides, working from his legs, up. Her finger tips touching him, but barely, wanting to tease him and leave him wanting more.

Izuku shivered again, enjoying the feeling of her touch, although he wanted more than just that. She stood back again, moving her hips in a way that formed a figure-eight. She moved her hands up and down her body again, the way Izuku would if he could touch her.

She brought her hand up to her breast, fondling with it. She pulled the leotard down just enough where her breasts fell out of it, exposing her taut nipples to him. Izuku reached out to touch her, but she calmly took his hands and placed them back on his lap.

She kept fondling with herself, looking at him as he bit his lip, desperately wanting to be the one to give her pleasure, and not herself. She ran her hand down from her breasts, down to the v cut of the leotard groin area. She pushed it aside, slowly, allowing him to see her bare pussy. She smirked as she stopped touching herself, sitting down on his lap again, this time, her back pressed flushed against his chest.

She then started to move his ass against his crotch, smirking more as she felt Izuku’s dick rise against her ass. She circled her hips again, slowly, teasingly and sensually, wanting to make him want more as he often did to her.

Izuku groaned loudly into her ear, leaning his head down and biting her neck. Though this time, she didn’t stop him. She kept rocking her ass and hips against his hard-on, growing rougher and harder with passing time.

Izuku’s cock jumped at the sensation, threatening to cum just from her grinding. Y/N took notice of this and once again stood up. Izuku whimpered in loss of pleasure, watching as she stood in front of him, swaying her hips to the soft beat of the music.

Y/N’s hand traveled from Izuku’s collarbone, down his arms to his biceps, then moved to his chest. Running her hands down from his pectorals, then his abs, then down to his v-line. Y/N licked her lips seductively, dragging her finger tips across his waist line and then down to his crotch.

Izuku gasped as Y/N started tracing shapes along his dick, palming him occasionally. Izuku's eyes fell closed, his breathing picking up as she continued to trace the head of his cock with her finger tips, unzipping his pants and doing it through his boxers.

Y/N looked up at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes and she slowly licked the head of his dick through his underwear. Izuku moaned loudly, gripping onto her hair. She smirked slightly, pulling his boxers down along with his pants. She grinned at the sight of the precum dripping from the head of his penis and took his cock into her mouth.

He gasped again, his grip on her hair tightening as he pulled slightly. Y/N moaned, sending vibrations through his dick. She licked the head of his dick, taking as much in her mouth as she could. Using her hands, she fondled with whatever she couldn’t reach.

Izuku moaned louder, the feeling of her tongue around his dick sending him into absolute bliss. Y/N looked up at him, with a ‘innocent’ look as she kept licking, sucking occasionally. She used slow, yet long licks, wanting to tease him.

She took the rest of him into her mouth, deepthroating his cock, making her slightly gag. Izuku pulled her hair, shoving his balls deeper into her throat. Y/N moaned around his dick again, making Izuku groan from the vibrations once more.

Izuku could feel himself getting closer to an orgasm, his cock jumping, signalling he was going to cum soon. Y/N smirked and slowly pulled away, taking him out of her mouth, but leaving a string of saliva connecting her and his dick.

Izuku looked at her, panting. Midoriya had decided he had had enough with her teasing, he got up from the chair, slamming her roughly against a wall and pinning her to it. “You know you don’t tease master like that, baby~.” He purred into her ear seductively. Y/N gulped, knowing the dominant Izuku had come back.

“So either, you’re going to open those pretty little legs for me so I can ruin and fill your holes with my cum, got it?~” He asked, his voice husky. Y/N nodded, “y-yes, daddy.” Izuku smirked. “Good girl~ now, let daddy show you how to tease~.”

#midoriya izuku #dom!izuku #deku smut #bnha midoriya #bnha deku #bnha izuku #bnha x reader #bnha #izuku smut #deku x fem!reader #bnha smut #smut oneshot #smut #midoriya smut

[itsnothesameasitwas]

hiii! this month I’ve read a lot of great fics, so I decided is time to start my monthly fic rec… that means I’ll be doing a short fic rec and recap every month with my favorite fics of the month

note: the fics I’ll be mentioning weren't necessarily posted recently

!!! - please be careful and read all the tags and/or warnings before start reading and left kudos and nice messages to the authors <33

❀ Divinely Blessed by thinlines @thinlinez  | 17k | Explicit | ABO | fic post

“I heard you, Ni. But what do you mean?”

“What do you mean what I mean?”

Harry rolled his eyes as he shoved his alpha friend down onto a seat. “Did you mean you lick someone out or…?”

“Nah, mate! It was me! I got licked out!” Harry could only stare at Niall in horror.

Alpha Harry prides himself on having the bravest and most caring omega who might or might not just fulfill his sudden curiosity.

note: for some reason i don’t know i fell in love with the ABO and found this fic someway and WOW! it’s really fluffy and sweet and while i was reading all i could think about was “god! i really want someone who love me like Harry loves Lou and viceversa” and also has a great smut scene, funny and well writen (cliff ily babe)

❀ Promise me you won’t run away by thinlines | 23k | Explicit | ABO | Español

“Does kissing me stop you from having bad thoughts?” Harry asked, voice muffled into the collar of Louis’ dress shirt. Louis chuckled at this. He trailed a hand down Harry’s back, feeling the muscles tensing along with his touch.

“I guess you can say that. You’re a good distraction.”

“Then I will be the best distraction.” Harry answered, pulling back and watched Louis’ lips unashamedly.

“Come distract me, then.”

Or the Prince/ Knight AU in which Harry left Louis, but the omega never once gave up on them.

note: this fic is beautiful and really REALLY well written, i need to say i cried and im the most cold person in the world but this caught me and I LOVED IT! but also when i finished it i got mad because in the end notes was the spanish translation and i read it in english lmao; anyway i love it!!!... summing this up, the fic made me thought about that LOVE ALWAYS WIN <33

❀ Twist the knife by jishler @jishlerfics | 6k | Explicit | Angst / Smut | fic post

Infuriating, but Louis missed it. Louis missed him. His thighs and his chest and breath and warmth and toothbrush next to Louis’. He missed sex with Harry but he missed his presence more: Louis would settle for watching Harry get himself off if it meant he got to see him; hear the voice that was like a soothing balm over all his wounds.

Two weeks after their breakup, Harry wants his toys back.

note: i definetely don’t read smut in purpose and the reason i’ve read this was because i love the moodboard BUT i need to thank the person who put it on my dash because i liked it so much!! was fun to read and the smut is pretty well written :))

❀  Hold you now by solvetheminourdreams @solvetheminourdreams | 131k | Angst with happy ending | fic post | playlist

The string within Harry's own sweatpants is now dangling outside of his pocket, stretched so far out that the seams of his pants have tightened. His eyes remain hyper focused on Louis, how oblivious he is—scrolling through his phone without a care in the world, while Harry feels his tilt on its axis.

Three years ago, Harry Styles said goodbye to communications consultancy firm McQuiston Worldwide, leaving a life of travel and agency PR behind. When he accompanies his best friend to a family wedding across the Atlantic, he'll be forced to reopen old wounds and face his past—one that no one wants to hash out, but may just have to.

note: at the end of the first chapter i was emotional, is the kind of fic that you feel every single emotion, the one you literally feel are part of it... it’s perfectly well written and please give it a chance and  check all the stef’s works because she’s a super talented writer... if i say something else i’ll probably do spoilers so, shut up ana.

❀ The money mark by brightgolden @brightgolden | 52k | Explicit | ABO | fic post

Harry's heart beats faster in his chest as the name sinks in. The Tomlinson name is awfully familiar, and he isn’t sure how many rich Tomlinsons are out here in London, but he knew one. Seven years ago.

Like all fine things in the world, Louis Tomlinson ages exceptionally well.

OR

Where Louis is Harry’s first sugar daddy who dumped him over text and their paths cross, seven years later.

note: THIS IS MY FAVORITE FIC OF THE YEAR. sorry, but this fic is super well written, is omega harry + alpha louis and find smth like this is almost impossible! but i loved the fact that harry could be an omega and a sugar baby but he’s independant and strong and wow! it’s amazing; everyone should read it because it’s really good!! (ps. louis is the alpha of my dreams, he’s a complete gentlemen)

❀ Sweet like candy by neodiamond @neondiamond | 4k | General Audiences | ABO | fic post

Louis is an Alpha with an odd obsession for gummy bears. Harry is an Omega who makes friends a little too easily. They meet on the bus.

note: this is the cutest fluffy fic I have ever read! strangers to friends to lovers <333

❀ Literally making love by Brooklyn_babylon @twopoppies | 30k | Explicit | Robot/Human Relationship | fic post

Holding up one of the android's eyes to the workshop’s windows, he smiled as the light picked up the gold flecks in the pale green of his irises. Louis had always paid attention to even the tiniest details.

--

All Louis intended to do was rescue someone in need from loneliness. He had no idea it would be himself.

note: science + me = signal error BUT this fic. OMG. how to say this is one of the fics would be in my recap at the end of the year; i have read another fic by Gina and was really good but this is probably my favorite between both of them... all i know and want now is to create my perfect partner lmao. 

❀ I’m gonna keep this love, if you let me by pixies @tomlinbuns | 26k | Explicit | ABO | fic post

Louis makes Harry pretend to be his boyfriend one night out. The rest is history.

note: this one is simple to discribe... the best of the best. one of my favorites abo fics, funny, teasing and very romantic. i enjoyed so much read how these two guys fell in love with each other. god bless this fic <33

❀ Beautiful stranger by lovelarry10 @chloehl10 | 66k | Explicit | ABO / Mpreg | fic post

“Did you want to- oh. Uh, sorry, I-” Harry stuttered, licking his lips as he looked over Louis’ bare torso, not focusing on the ocean ahead of him. “You’re very distracting, Lou.”

“Trying to tell me you haven’t seen a topless Omega before?” Louis asked, walking back to his rucksack and grabbing a bottle of suncream out of it before returning to stand by Harry.

“Not one as stunning as you,” he thought he heard Harry mutter as he started to rub the cream into his shoulders.

*****

When Alpha Harry Styles attends the Gucci Cruise 2020 show, he knows what to expect: clothes, clutch bags, and a few too many pretentious people. What he doesn’t expect, however, is to run into an Omega who is more beautiful than anything on the runway.

note: this fic is from 2019 but who cares, i loved it so much and i want to thank/blame @justalarryblog​ because she unintentionally recommended it to me in her abo fic rec post and now i want someone like this harry in my life... is it too much to ask? because is one of the most beautiful abo fics i’ve read this month and wow. if you haven’t read it yet, what are you waiting for??

❀ Waiting on you by beckywritesthings @beckydoesthings  | 21k | Mature | Mpreg | fic post

“Do you want to touch?” Harry asks, taking one of his hands off to tangle with Louis’. His open invitation finally drags Louis’ attention away from his baby and up to his face, blue eyes wobbly with emotions. It’s clear that he’s too taken to really form words, so Harry takes the initiative to press their laced hands against his shirt fabric, warmth from the skin radiating through.

Louis pushes his shirt up to his chest, taking Harry’s hand and pressing it to hold the fabric in place. His hands return to warm skin, palms even more scalding now that there’s nothing in between them. And then, as if that wasn’t enough for Harry’s heart to handle, Louis leans in, pressing his lips right above his belly button.

“Hi, baby,” he says, lips moving across his skin softly. “I’m your… I’m Louis.”

Or Harry is pregnant with a stranger’s baby and Louis doesn’t know. It’s a minor detail that Harry’s both living with Louis and in love with him. No big deal.

note: this fic is really new, someone reblogged the fic post and when i saw it first i was like ‘huh?’ and then suddendly (in less than a minute) decided it was the next thing i’ll be reading and now i’m completely in love with it. Lou i need to say you’re the kind of guy everyone wants in their life <3 

-----------

❀ all the love, ana. xx

#monthly fic recs #larry fic rec #trackinghome #1dsource #tracksintheam #it's too late to publish this??? idk and idc hope someone like this #and again thanks to the author for their amazing fics!!! #28th appreciation #my fic rec

[nohoney]

Missed Dates - Hawks

I originally wanted to make this sugar daddy Hawks but got this instead...

Hawks is the #2 hero so you know that he’s usually preoccupied with his profession

But he always tries his best to make time for you “finally, I get to relax with my baby bird! I deserve it!”

Regrettably though..... Hawks does have to choose his work first and there have been multiple occasions where you receive a last minute text or call from him apologizing and having to cancel a date

“I’m so sorry baby bird....”

“Ah, it’s fine Keigo... duty calls yeah?”

“Yeah, we’ll have dinner tomorrow okay?”

If he could put you first all the time, he absolutely would

Obviously Hawks makes a good living as a top Pro Hero, he’s probably not Endeavor rich but he’s got money

So just right after he gets off the phone after telling you that he can’t come to dinner again you get a little notification on your phone

$XXXX has been deposited in your bank account along with a text from Hawks

‘Treat yourself to something nice, on me xoxo’

You’re floored at the amount of money that your boyfriend just sent to you, not even your biggest paycheck could complete with the number. Immediately you ring up Hawks, your fingers tapping on the dinner table in annoyance and waiting for him to pick up. Right when you hear his voice chime your name, you go off on him, “What the hell Keigo?! I am perfectly capable of buying my own things! I like working and earning my own money, I don’t need a hand out!”

“No you’ve got it wrong baby bird! I just wanted to make it up to you for not being able to come to dinner again, I’m not pitying you.” Hawks explains himself, you recognize the sound of him flying through the air as he talks on the phone with you, “I meant it, whatever you want it’s on me.”

“Keigo, I don’t want your money. I’m sending it back to you.” You tell him, ready to do so.

“Oh no you don’t, if you do that I’ll just double it right back to you.” Keigo challenges you, a hint of a warning in his tone.

“What?! Keigo, don’t you dare!”

“Don’t you test me dove. Try to send it back, I dare you.”

“Keigo...” you sigh out in frustration, about to insist that it wasn’t necessary but Hawks cuts you off with the gentle call of your name.

It sounds like Keigo is landing, no longer hearing the flapping of his wings or the whistle of the wind. “Just please accept it? I know it’s my fault that we don’t spend enough time together and doing this for you makes me happy. I want to spoil you and doing this makes me feel like I’m taking care of you.” Keigo gently insists and he says it with such soft conviction that you feel like you can’t argue back with him.

“I... I... okay.” You sigh in defeat, you couldn’t be mad knowing that all he wanted was to make you happy and secure. “I’ll accept it.”

“Great! Show me what you bought tomorrow, surprise me!” Hawks’ tone switches to sounding like his chipper self and you can’t catch him on it as he talks over you, “No buying necessities, you better have used that money on something that you normally wouldn’t get! Clothes, a computer, maybe a new phone or something. Love you baby bird, bye!”

You can’t help but feel a little tricked.

But it’s what he wanted and you know that in the end, this really is meant to be a loving gesture. So you spend the money he sent you and show him your purchases the next day at dinner, his eyes shining and a big grin on his face as you go through the bags on the floor of your home.

So it becomes routine that every time Hawks has to cancel last minute on you for dates or plans, he ends up sending you a ridiculous amount of money for you to spend on yourself and however you please. It’s nice, you don’t mind it because hey with your own paychecks you couldn’t buy certain things unless you saved up for them first. You upgrade certain amenities in your home, buy your parents or friends dinners when you go out with them, and buy that designer purse you always dreamed of having along with the matching wallet.

And as nice as it was of Hawks to spoil you, it didn’t really compare to being with him and no amount of money could be a substitute for his love and affection, so you hatch a plan after two months since he sent that first deposit.

You know how dedicated Hawks is to his hero work and you always leave him be when it’s his working hours except for the occasional text just to say you love and miss him. But you delicately place your newest purchase on the surface of his bed, one of many that’s in the bag with each set wrapped in tissue paper and think to yourself that for once, you’re gonna make your boyfriend call out from work.

So you wash up, do your makeup and style your hair before putting on the lingerie piece you bought just a few hours earlier. You pose for a few pictures of you wearing your set and have videos recorded of yourself as well, choosing the most flattering picture and sending it to Hawks with the caption, “Look what I bought.”

Lace, flowers, see through, flimsy, you know it’ll drive him wild.

You hope and pray that Hawks is having some downtime right now because you’re not about to wait a few hours for his response and-

“Dove it looks so pretty, it’s going to look even prettier on the floor when I take it off you tonight.”

Oh hell no, you’re not waiting until his shift is over at his agency. You’re going to make him want to come to you.

This time you send a picture of yourself from the waist up, cupping one of your breasts in the frilly bra and give him a teasing smile.

“Yes Dove, very pretty and very sexy. Just wait until I get home and I’ll show you much I appreciate it.”

Fuck no.

You send a video that you know is gonna drive him up the wall.

Your phone rings and you pick up right away, answering with a leisurely, “Hello?”

“What are you doing to me baby bird?” Hawks hisses into the phone, his voice a little low and you detect a hint of frustration in his tone. “Why do you keep on teasing me? You know I’m at work right now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Keigo, I’m just really excited about my new lingerie. I’m just showing you how nice it is.” You’re not one to play coy but when you do, it works your boyfriend up. “Is that so wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that I just popped a semi while one of my sidekicks was talking all because of that little video you sent me! I can’t walk around like this!”

“Then I guess you should come home then huh?”

“Don’t tempt me dove, I promise I’ll wrap things up soon and I swear I’ll fuck you so hard that you’ll need to call off work for a week.” Hawks growls into the phone and it makes your spine shiver; he’s getting feral. “Just sit pretty for me and be good, yeah?”

Nope.

“Okay Keigo, can I just send you one more?”

“Sure dove.”

You send the photo, your phone chiming with the delivered sound.

“I’m coming home.”

Hawks hangs up before you get the chance to say anything.

And just a short fifteen minutes later while you’re lying on the bed wearing a different set this time, you hear the balcony door slide open; Hawks only uses that as an entrance if he’s really in a rush to get in and out of his place. He practically slams the door open, his face flustered and golden eyes zero in on you. “Baby bird...”

“Winged Hero Hawks, how are you doing this fine day?” You ask with an innocent tilt of your head and keeping your eyes on the screen of your phone.

Hawks sheds off his jacket, his wings fanning out and several feathers coming towards your direction. One red feather knocks the phone out of your hand while two restrain you down by your wrists, the feathers soft against your skin and you don’t dare fight them back; you have no reason to. You give Hawks a cheeky grin as he climbs onto the bed, approaching you like a predator. “You call in sick? Feeling light headed? You must be with that boner, all the blood rushing from that busy brain of yours to your cock.”

Hawks wears his pants baggy but you can see the bulge of his cock when you glance down at his crotch. You sigh as his hands carefully run over the lingerie set you swapped to and he comments on it, “You weren’t wearing this in those pictures you sent me earlier.”

“Well I wanted to model all of the sets for you and ask which one you like the best. Sounds like a good time yeah?” You feel the feathers leave your wrists and they return back to his wings.

He gulps, still delicately touching the lace and asks, “How many did you buy?”

“One for every missed date the past two months.” You pull him down by the collar of his shirt, lick the shell of his ear and whisper, “Let’s break them in Keigo.”

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #takami x reader #takami keigo #bnha #bnha x reader

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Long Nights - part 7

Neil x Reader

Chapter 7: Wicked game

(see chapter 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1)

summary: it’s time to come back to life, and sometimes it involves Neil dragging you to a social event

warnings: 18+, language, alcohol mention (beer is considered alcohol, right?)

author’s note: 3k words. It’s not exactly what I had in mind for that chapter, but they have a mind of their own, as always. 

Almost there.

The song for this part is Stone Sour - Wicked Game (acoustic, live)

Enjoy and let me know what you think, please? All feedback is greatly appreciated.

——————

Tag list: @cxnnienikas​ @neutron-stars-collision​ @ergunbilge​ @invertedneil​ @wanderedaway​ @i-wanna-b-yours​ @wonderwoman292​ @buckysgoldenheart​ @townmoondaltwistle @theriverbeneaththeriver​ (please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list)

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It didn’t matter how many times you saw him do that, the effect the sight had on you was pretty much always the same. Filling your mind with thoughts that were quite counterproductive, one could say.

The veiny patterns covering hands and forearms. The long fingers running through the buttons. The tilted chin, extending the neck, drawing attention to that impossible jawline. The slight pout. The brows drawn together in concentration--

You smacked your tongue and shook your head

“Y’know what, those shirts of yours are so rude, but the way you wear them, the rolled-up sleeves?”

Neil looked at you through the reflection in the mirror, puzzled. “What about them?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely disrespectful,” you sighed heavily and leaned against the door frame.

Playful lights danced in the blue eyes. “Oh yeah?” he teased, giving himself a final glance-over before turning to you. “And what you’re gonna do about it?”

“Nothing,” - you shrugged, crossing your arms - “because you insist on dragging me to a social event.”

The faint resentment ringing in your last words didn’t get lost on Neil.

“So boring of me,” he said as he closed the gap between you, trying to keep a straight face. He put his hands on your waist and smirked. “But maybe after that we can come back here and continue the conversation.”

As you fixed his collar, a shade of smile hid in the corner of your mouth.

“Really wanna listen to me listing all the things that drive me mad about you, huh?” you asked smugly, gliding your fingertips along the delicate stripes of the greyish beige shirt.

Neil’s thumbs brushed over your hip bones as he hummed, “I have a feeling it might lead to a rather pleasant conclusion.”

When you let out an amused scoff, his lips captured the snarky comment that was bound to follow. He pulled you closer and lifted you up, and the next second you were sitting on the edge of a vanity cabinet, breathless from the kiss, tugging at the striped shirt.

A buzz right next to you.

You jumped, startled, and glared at the phone. “Is it too late to tell Matthias the Uber driver that we’re not going anywhere?” you asked without too much hope as you nuzzled your face to Neil’s neck, breathing in his scent, unwilling to let this moment end too quickly.

Neil chuckled and stroked your arms. “Come on, it’s gonna be fun.”

You still didn’t know where he was taking you - he’d assured you that it would be casual, and that was basically all you cared about. He knew you enough, and you trusted his judgement, after all.

“It better be,” you pouted, pulling back, but as soon as you met the bright blue eyes your heart sang in your chest. After spending all that time in the darkness, not sure if you’d ever see his face again, you caught yourself taking an extra second every now and then, just looking at him. How the light played on his features, now soft in the elaborately illuminated hotel bathroom. How his lips curled whenever he found your gaze. How utterly stunning he was.

Smiling gently, you ran your fingers through Neil’s disheveled mane, taming the blonde mess if ever so slightly.

“Let’s not keep Matthias waiting, then,” you sighed and slid off the cabinet.

-------

The afternoon was quite warm for late autumn. As you were arriving at your destination, you watched the sun shining through the scarce leaves left on the trees, adding vibrance to their colours. Too mesmerized to pay attention to the route, you recognized the place only when the car stopped. The training site. You turned to Neil in confusion, but he just wiggled his brows and proceeded to thank the driver and got out of the car. You followed him out and right through the gate of the now-empty paintball outdoor facility which served as a front for the agency’s base, hidden a bit further inside the forest.

“Picking up something on the way?” you asked, matching his pace as you strolled towards the training grounds.

Neil shook his head and smiled mysteriously. “Not really.”

“Alrighty then, keep your secrets,” you snorted, rolling your eyes. “Aren’t we a tad overdressed for a little playground fun, though?”

“A rematch?” he pondered and smirked. “Didn’t plan on that, but it’s tempting.”

Indeed. “I’m kinda out of shape, but keep those baggy trousers on and I’m game - wanna beat you fair and square again.”

Neil let out an exasperated huff. “Baggy?! They might be a bit loose but --”

You giggled at his offended expression as he got busy looking down at the target of your remark, ready to defend his fashion choice. Your laughter was enough to stop Neil in his tracks, and when he met your playful gaze, he reached out and drew you into his arms for a tight hug. After a brief moment of perplexity, you eased into his embrace, moved by the force of sudden affection.

When he pulled back, you touched his cheek. “What was that for?” you asked, searching the blue eyes, but finding nothing but joy there.

“Being cheeky.” He scrunched his nose while tapping the tip of yours. “And brilliant,” he added, and for a second you were sure there was something else he wanted to say; instead, he laid a gentle kiss on your lips. “And maybe stalling a minute longer before I’d have to share you with all these people.”

You gaped at him, about to ask what people, but Neil already grabbed your hand and led you around the corner of the building - and you heard them even before you spotted them.

“Oi, there they are!”

“Finally!”

“We’ve just considered sending a rescue party in case you got lost in the woods!”

The unexpected eruption of cheers and greetings made your fight-or-flight reflexes kick in, but as you instinctively took a step back, Neil squeezed your fingers reassuringly.  

A split-second exchange of looks.

All right?

When he saw your tiny nod, he let go of your hand, focusing on the team gathered at the makeshift chillout zone. “Not everyone has your poor sense of directions, Seb,” retorted Neil, flashing his teeth in a grin.

The young man’s protests got drowned in laughter as you approached the group together.

"Luckily not the case with our rogue here,” said Ives, elbowing his way in between other people. He shot you both a disapproving look, toned down by a smile dangling in the corner of his mouth. "Really, roofs? Didn't know you had it in you, mate."

"Me neither,” admitted Neil, going in for a clasp of hands and a brief hug. “When I saw that gap, I was sure that was it. Someone convinced me otherwise."

“The secret is to avoid looking down,” you shrugged, meeting the commander's amused gaze.

"Thanks for bringing our favourite nerd back in one piece." As Ives extended his hand, there was something serious about his expression, mixed with a sense of relief, and you realised he must have been in the response team Neil had called for help.

“My pleasure.” Beaming, you shook his hand. “Thanks for providing backup.” And scraping me off the pavement.

Neil’s gasp was almost theatrical. He smirked and nudged Ives lightly. “Aw, I’m your favourite?”

“Careful, that privilege may be revoked any minute,” grunted Ives in a weak attempt at keeping up appearances, but he couldn’t fool anyone. Now that you had a chance to observe them in the after-hours situation, the bond between the two men was clear as day, and your heart warmed up at the thought.

Waving back at Mahir, you scanned the group for other familiar faces. Wheeler, a couple of people you recognized from the HQ halls, and a bit isolated from the others - the big man himself, manning the barbecue station.

Overwhelmed by the attention you got from the team, you excused yourself and walked up to The Protagonist. You couldn’t help but smile at the confident vibe he radiated with as if he spent every weekend doing nothing but this.

“So dad of you, boss.”

He flopped a sizzling piece of meat to the other side, glancing at you humorlessly.

“How are you feeling?” he asked with polite concern.

“Grand, healed up nicely, thank you.” You circled your shoulder and grinned. “Not in a marathon condition, mind you, but that’s not exactly new.”

“That’s good, Neil was worried about you.”

Not sure if it was the lack of eye contact or something else in his presence, but you decided to stop ignoring the gut feeling.

“You don’t like me,” you said, tilting your head. A mere statement of the fact; you weren’t hurt, only curious. “It’s okay, you don’t have to, just been wondering why.”

TP sighed heavily. And when he finally met your gaze, the dark eyes were sad, only deepening your confusion.

“I’m sorry.” Then something cracked and a shiver ran down your spine, because suddenly, in front of you there was a man who’d seen a lot, suffered too much, and cared even more. The weight of it all slumped his shoulders, and for a short while, he seemed almost helpless. Taking a quick look at the hollering group, he sighed again. “It’s not your fault, it’s--“ he hesitated, searching for the right words. As he found them, there was no sign of the vulnerability from a moment earlier. “It’s a stressful business.” He sent you a crooked smile. “And I’m still mad about that watch.”

The lie was obvious. But the things you saw in his eyes made your chest clench painfully, and…did you really want to know?

Besides, that might have been a truce offering, and you weren’t bent on holding a grudge. Not with him, anyway.

“Hey, wasn’t it technically your idea?” you grinned, shrugging off the weird sense of dread.

A smile finally reached the dark irises. “I guess it was,” he admitted and patted you on the arm. “There’s some beer in the mini-fridge, could you --”

“On it.”

When the clank of bottles sealed your peace treaty, you caught Neil’s happy stare. You pointed at the beer in your hand in a question and he nodded, so you grabbed one more and joined him and the others.

That unfortunate mission must have been some sort of rite of passage in these guys’ eyes because out of the blue, you were no longer an outsider. The Cavalry accepted you with open arms as one of their own, and you couldn’t wrap your head around it. It was a nice feeling, though. Like you belonged. You saw some curious glances, but they came from a good place, and even the suspicious voice in your mind gave in under the cordial, jovial energy of the group.

Soon enough, you were joking with a young medic, having a balancing stand-off with Wheeler, or listening to crazy stories from some old operations, until everyone had enough booze in their systems that allowed them to direct some of the questions to you, as well.

“So is Neil a decent locksmith now?”

You puffed out your cheeks in a musing grimace, but when you spotted Neil’s raised brow, you started laughing. “I’d say even more than decent. Honestly? I don’t think there’s much more that I can teach him, he needs to polish his skills in real life now.” Mocking a teary sniff, you added, “They grow up so fast!”

Nobody would know that you did so while actively ignoring a faint sting in your heart.

You refrained from meeting the attentive blue eyes, though. Just in case.

“Oh cool, then what about a little contest?” Seb clapped his hands cheerfully. “You versus Neil, we could time you, and to make it fairer we could put a blindfold on you --” as he stopped for a breath, he realized - with some help from Wheeler’s elbow to his side - the slight faux pas.

But you barely acknowledge a curse and a mumbled apology cutting through the awkward silence, too busy exchanging amused looks and stifled giggles with your student.

“Neil, would you like to explain?” you asked, schooling your features.

He bowed his head as if he was accepting a great honor. “Gladly.” Neil took a deep breath and his eyes lit up. “See, my dear friend, had you known anything about lockpicking, you’d learnt that sometimes it’s easier to do that with, for example, your eyes closed. You need to listen to what the lock has to say because it’s all about feedback--”

You watched as Neil gave a full lecture, citing your own words from what seemed to be a lifetime ago. He did it with passion and understanding of the craft you’d never dreamed to see in someone else, and yet was so familiar when it came to him. Absentmindedly, you placed a hand over your chest, as if it was enough to stop it from bursting.

You couldn’t be more proud.

Neil finished his rant and looked at you, only to be met with all the appreciation and validation in your gaze, and he beamed even wider.

“All right, damn, we can cover Neil’s eyes then,” sighed Seb, a total resignation in his voice sparking a roar of laughter from the group.

----

As much as you enjoyed the energy of the team, your social batteries were getting drained, and you needed a moment for yourself before you could carry on.

Walking right outside of the periphery of light from the garlands, you let your gaze slide across the training equipment, now barely visible in the moonless night. The leaves crumbled under your feet as you smiled at the memories. Maybe one day you would actually complete the full run? You pulled on the sleeves of your sweater, hiding your hands from the cold evening air.

“Mind if I join you?”

You glanced over your shoulder at Neil, keeping his distance, ready to give you space. With him, it was always in the details he’d picked along the way, effortlessly weaving them into everyday life. “Not at all.”

Neil perked up and joined you in the shadows, inhaling deeply.

“Funny how the scent of the forest changes with the seasons,” he mused and you grinned, turning his way.

“That’s what I call a pick-up line,” you snickered and drew a long breath. “But you’re right, it’s too easy to forget that once you become a permanent city creature.”

He chuckled and lightly rubbed his hands up and down your arms.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked softly, fixing your oversized scarf.

“Yeah.” You brushed your cheek against his fingers, longing for his touch, now that you were somewhat hidden from the prying gazes. “You?”

Neil moved closer and wound one arm around your waist, then cupped your face gently, pressed his forehead to yours, and murmured, “Now I am.”

You hummed happily and slid your hands under his open jacket, resting them at his chest, and closed your eyes. Only then realizing how tense you were, you relaxed in his embrace, savoring his closeness. A steady heartbeat under your palms. The warmth carrying undertones of Neil’s cologne. A featherlike graze of his thumb over your cheek. His nose nudging yours.

But soon enough, you had to break a stolen moment. Trying to stifle a yawn, you hid your face in his shoulder to muffle the sound.

“Oh, my poor baby,” he cooed, biting back a giggle. “That tired?”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled against him on the verge of another yawn.

“Sure you are.” He kissed your temple. “The party’s almost over anyway, judging by decreasing amount of idiotic ideas per hour. Gonna call us a cab soon, all right?”

As you nodded, Neil tightened a hug and reluctantly let you go.

“Be right back, I’ll check if there’s any coffee left,” you said, gesturing towards the tables with beverages.

As your luck would have it, there was just enough for one sip.

A sudden sneer was enough to wake you up, though.

“Hell froze over.”

Mahir walked up to the mini-fridge to grab a beer and you met his mocking stare with furrowed brows.

“Vincent must be chattering his teeth now,” you joked, unsure where the conversation was heading. “Why?”

Mahir scoffed at the remark about your old associate, but he was still studying you closely, confusing you further. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Dude, you’re killing me today,” you sighed, wiping a hand through your face. “Thanks, but what for?”

“You and Neil?”

And when you shot him a puzzled look, he waved his bottle at the place where you stood together a moment before.

Breaking out in a cold sweat, you deadpanned, “Oh.”

Bloody hell.

“I thought you weren’t doing the whole love thing anymore.”

The pulse pounded in your ears, although not loud enough to tune out the sirens blazing in your head.

No.

It came out harder than you felt it. “I’m not.”

No, no, no, no, no.  

Mahir grimaced doubtfully. “Uh-huh.” He looked over your shoulder at the team gathered together in the distance and raised a brow. “Does he know that?”

You couldn’t force yourself to follow his gaze. The panic drained your face of all colour, and that was enough of an answer for your friend.

“I see.” Mahir shook his head, losing the enquiring manner. His features softened as he patted your arm. “Neil’s a good guy.”

Please, no.

“They always are,” you choked out bitterly.

Not again.

“You know what I mean,” insisted Mahir, searching for your eyes.

That the history was not gonna repeat itself?

...or that he didn’t deserve any of it?

“Yeah. Maybe.” You faked a smile. “Excuse me.”

Pushing past him, you went inside the building. You needed to be alone.

Oh, the irony.

Weeks of deliberately avoiding the topic. Tricking yourself into thinking that you can keep it casual. That it didn’t matter that much. That it was nothing but a self-indulgent fling.

You couldn’t breathe.

Lesson learnt, huh?

Barging into one of the restrooms, you got to a sink. Clenching your hands on the cold ceramic, you fought nausea tearing through your body.

Pathetic.

The gasp for air turned into a sob.

...and then everything went quiet.

You raised your eyes to the mirror.

Your reflection was staring back at you with determination.

It was time.

(next chapter ->)

#neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet fanfiction #neil tenet imagine #robert pattinson #tenet #tenet fanfiction #long nights

[gureishi]

can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland

Chapter 2 is here! The tension is building~ This chapter is SFW. Again, a reminder: this is a Choi sandwich fic, so please be cautious/skip this one if this pairing isn’t your cup of tea <3 <3

Pairing: Saeran X Reader X Saeyoung

Rating: E; Chapter rating: T

chapter two

A few days passed before you were alone with Saeyoung again.

It wasn’t that you’d been avoiding him, necessarily, but rather than there had been a lot of activity in the bunker over the last couple of days. The RFA had been coming and going—seeing for themselves that the twins were alive, of course, as well as bringing gifts both strange and lovely. Yoosung had brought a good deal of his home cooking and Jaehee had given you an assortment of coffees, while Zen had offered several DVDs of his own performances (which the three of you had already watched, of course—one of them multiple times).

Vanderwood had been around, too, perhaps more than they’d have liked—helping the brothers finish up the last of the clean-up work regarding the agency before leaving for their hometown.

By the time the chaos had died down at the end of each day, you’d fallen into bed with Saeran, exhausted and exhilarated and, most of all, relieved to be sleeping curled around his body once again.

Today, however, Jumin had stolen Saeran away for assistance with the development of his new iteration of the intelligence unit, and the rest of the RFA seemed to be easing back into their regular lives. This left you and Saeyoung, neither of whom had had regular lives to begin with.

As deeply and enthusiastically as you appreciated your friends’ presence, you were also relieved to have peace and quiet for once. The bunker felt bigger than usual after days of company; you noticed that your footsteps echoed in the halls as you walked past the numerous rooms Saeyoung had left empty—because, you thought with a twinge of sadness, he’d never expected to live long enough to fill them.

You made your way to the kitchen. In the two weeks you and Saeran had lived here alone together, you’d begun stocking Saeyoung’s gigantic, empty kitchen. You loved to cook, together and for each other, and doing so had helped you feel grounded recently. Today, there was no Saeran in his adorable apron hovering behind you and pressing surprise kisses to the skin behind your ear as you cooked. Still, you were happy to be doing it.

Today, you were roasting a chicken.

You washed your hands and pulled the six pound chicken you’d bought the day before out of the refrigerator. You put on a playlist of upbeat pop music and chopped up fresh spices, humming to yourself. Drizzling oil over the chicken, you wiggled your hips to the music. It was nice to feel like you had total agency over the simple task before you, to be alone with your thoughts and your music and your chicken.

Except you weren’t alone.

You didn’t hear Saeyoung come up behind you, which shouldn’t have been a surprise—you never could hear either of the brothers moving about the house, which was another unpleasant reminder that they’d led lives that necessitated not being heard.

“Hiya,” he said, and—taken by surprise in spite of everything—you jumped. You spun around, alarmed, and saw him: leaning against the doorframe, a goofy grin on his face. “Did I scare you?”

“Yes!” You held up your oily, parsley-coated hands in defeat. “I’m going to have to put collars with little bells on them on the both of you, I swear.”

Saeyoung laughed, and you recognized the swooping feeling in the bit of your belly; you’d felt it the other day, too, in the car. His laugh was somewhat different than the one you’d come to know (and appreciate, and seek out) in the days you’d first known him, when you’d been at Mint Eye and he’d just been a voice in a phone. It was softer now, and you thought perhaps it was more genuine.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” he said quietly.

Not sure if you’d heard him right, you said nothing, turning back to the chicken. The room felt full of static all of a sudden—sharp and buzzy.

When it was the three of you all together, as it so often was, you didn’t feel this way: like the kitchen had been cast suddenly into a tropical climate, the air thick, hot and sticky. You understood that dynamic, somehow—you, your boyfriend, and his brother. Fine. Being alone with him, though, felt different, somehow—inexplicably dangerous.

Knowing the backs of your ears were red, you liberally slathered the chicken with the parsley, as well as thyme and rosemary and cayenne. You cut open a lemon, perhaps too forcefully, wincing as a little juice squirted onto your cheek.

“What are you doing?” Saeyoung asked, persistent as ever. He had moved closer—you could feel it.

“What does it look like?” you asked. You grabbed half of the lemon and smushed it inside the chicken, as far as it would go.

“I don’t know if you want me to answer that,” he said, chuckling. You saw him in your peripheral vision: he was hovering just behind you, his eyes on your arm which was elbow-deep in the chicken.

“Saeyoung!” you reproached, shaking your head (also with a bit too much force). A lock of hair slipped out of your ponytail and into your eyes. Well, shit.

You pulled your arm out of the chicken and squeezed the other half of the lemon over it. Your hands were covered in chicken juice and lemon and spices; in other words, disgusting. You twitched your head to the side, trying to get rid of the pesky lock of hair. Great. It ended up in your mouth.

“Got it.” Before you could react, Saeyoung had leaned over you, tucking your hair behind your ear with his deft fingers. Your cheek burned where he’d touched you and you caught a whiff of his sweet, spicy scent. Oh god.

“Oh, um. Th-thanks,” you muttered, avoiding his eyes. You were sure he could feel the heat radiating off your cheeks. It was burning you.

You expected him to tease you then, to make a joke about the situation and reaffirm all your notions that he saw you as a lovable but thoroughly non-sexual sister type. 

But he didn’t. Seeming to realize too late what he’d done, he noticeably flinched. He laughed a little awkwardly as he retreated to the opposite corner of the kitchen, as far away from you as he could be.

“Gotta take care of the chef, you know,” he muttered.

Well, that’s even worse. His reaction—the way his face flushed as he slunk away from you—confirmed a fear you didn’t even know you had. He was aware of it, too.

Aware of what, exactly?

You cut up the rest of the lemon with shaky hands and arranged the slices around the chicken in your largest roasting pan (you’d bought this recently, too—Saeyoung had really had nothing here. What did he eat for all those years? you wondered—not for the first time).

“Ahahaha, um. S-so. When is my brother getting home?” Saeyoung asked, acknowledging neither the moment that had just passed nor the abrupt change of subject. You knew for certain, in that moment, that his mind had spun off in the same—totally improbable and illogical—direction that yours had.

And there you both were. Alone together. In the kitchen. Your hands covered in chicken juices. His brother nowhere to be found.

His brother. The love of your life.

“I’m not sure!” you said, too brightly. “Um, you can check my phone, if you want. He’d text if he was on his way home.”

Conscious of the intimacy of this particular offer (and thus regretting it as soon as you’d said it), you turned away again, dusting the last of the herbs over the chicken. You didn’t see Saeyoung’s face as he reached for your phone; didn’t register the look of confusion and longing that passed briefly across his golden eyes, disappearing almost as quickly as it had emerged.

“Do you want me to pretend I don’t know your passcode?” he asked after a moment, his voice a little weak.

“Do you know my passcode?” You spun to face him, unable to help yourself. Hackers.

“J-just to be clear, I didn’t learn it on purpose!” he stammered, his face turning almost as red as his hair. You couldn’t help but find it endearing. Ugh. Why do I live with two hackers?

“Do I even want to know?” You sighed, but you were smiling—how could you not? He looked so hopelessly mortified. You told him the passcode—just in case it made him feel better.

“Y-yeah,” he said, looking down, typing it in. “The day you met Saeran. I know. I saw you put it in one time—by accident, by the way—and my brain just. Remembered it. Sorry.” His voice got quieter and quieter as he spoke. He practically whispered the apology into his chest.

“You saw me put it in?” You couldn’t help laughing, feeling relieved at the sensation. Laughing is good; laughing is normal. Laughing is something you are allowed to do with your boyfriend’s twin brother.

“Saw…in a sense.” He laughed too, finally meeting your eyes. His were brighter than usual, shining behind his glasses.

You shook your head and turned, trying to grab the pan with the chicken in it too fast; perhaps unsurprisingly, you stumbled, missing a step as you tried to keep the heavy pan aloft.

Once again moving faster than you could register, Saeyoung was there. He caught the pan easily with one hand, the other arm wrapping firmly around your shoulders. Your back hit his chest, broader than Saeran’s. For a moment, you stopped breathing.

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack!” he said, his voice surprisingly sharp. He took the weight of the pan from you and you stumbled again, finding yourself pressed harder into him. He felt huge to you in that moment, capable of enveloping you or sweeping you off your feet. His scent filled your nostrils and your head swam.

“S-sorry!” you gasped, wiggling out of his grasp. He pulled away from you quickly, taking the pan to the oven. He looked almost…angry.

You watched his back, your body still overwhelmed by the scent and feel of him. It was the closest you’d ever been. You took a shallow, shaky breath.

“Sorry,” you said again. You didn’t know what else to say.

In that moment, the security system chimed, and you heard the load clanking of the series of doors unlocking themselves. Saeran.

“Oh yeah,” Saeyoung muttered, his back still to you. “Saeran’s almost home.”

“Thanks,” you said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of your voice. “I noticed.”

You had no reason to be short with him, but you felt annoyed all of a sudden. You wished he’d—what, exactly? Not stopped you from falling and probably hurting yourself? You stalked to the sink, drowning the sound of your heartbeat in the hot water rushing over your hands.

You knew you wouldn’t hear Saeran coming into the kitchen, so you didn’t even try to listen for his footsteps. You stayed at the sink, hypnotized by the bubbles floating up from your sudsy hands, ignoring Saeyoung. Waiting.

You felt arms wrapping around your waist and tensed, even recognizing his soft, flowery scent, even knowing intimately the hands that skated across your stomach.

“I’m home, my love,” he murmured into your hair.

Immediately comforted by the sensation of being wrapped up in him, you turned the water off, holding your hands above your head as you rotated in his arms so you could see his face.

“I missed you!” you said, because it was true.

He kissed you softly—with no regard, you noticed, for his brother, whose presence you could still feel like warm rain on your back. His lips tasted of the lip balm you’d bought for him and his arms felt safe. You were comforted, too, by the butterflies in your stomach, by the heat behind your shoulder blades. I love him no less than I ever did.

So why…?

Saeran pulled back, and you saw him register the look in your eyes. You wondered how you must look: anxious? Guilty? He ran a soft finger over your cheek.

“How was your day, princess?”

“It was calm,” you said, only half-lying. It was calm up until the last half hour or so.

“You weren’t lonely?”

You giggled and felt a blush creeping over your cheeks. No.

“No!” said Saeyoung loudly from the corner where he’d been lingering. You snuck a peek at him, and his cheeks were red, too. How suspicious do we seem right now?

But, you reminded yourself firmly, there’s nothing to be suspicious of.

“I helped her made the chicken!” Saeyoung sang, for all the world oblivious to the thoughts swirling helplessly around in your mind.

Saeran raised his eyebrows at you. “Really?” “Of course not.”

Saeran laughed his sweet laugh, ignoring Saeyoung as he insisted that he really had been helpful, going to peer at the chicken in the oven. You took a breath, starting to feel a little calmer. This was normal.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

And it kept on being normal as you settled onto the couch with a book, feet kicked up in Saeran’s lap while you waited for the chicken to roast; he propped his laptop on your legs and typed, working on the program Jumin’s team would be using. The feeling of his fingers on the keys, the laptop against your legs, was natural and familiar and wonderful.

And it was normal, too, as you eventually pulled the chicken out of the oven—crisp and golden and smelling deliciously like thyme and lemon. The three of you ate together, as you nearly always did. And Saeran rested his hand on your knee under the table, and you felt warm and full and cozy as you listened to the brothers debate the pros and cons of a programming language you’d never even heard of before.

After dinner, the twins insisted on cleaning up (which generally involved a lot of Saeyoung whining and knocking things over and Saeran intervening and scolding him, taking over the tasks with remarkable patience). You retreated to the living room to flip through streaming channels on the gigantic TV. Saeran had seen essentially no TV or movies in his life and was enthralled by everything; Saeyoung had bizarre tastes and generally couldn’t be trusted— so you’d appointed yourself in charge of picking things to watch, and everyone seemed grateful for the arrangement.

Curling yourself into a more comfortable position, you found a movie that’d come out recently and looked just interesting enough to keep the twins engaged, but just benign enough that you could tune it out. You couldn’t quite put it into words, even to Saeran, but you felt like your head was spinning round and round. You hadn’t gotten to fully process everything that had happened over the past few weeks yet, and suddenly everyone around you was slipping back into normal life, while you felt like you still barely had a grasp on reality.

You heard alarmingly loud splashing from the kitchen and briefly considered intervening on Saeran’s behalf, but stopped yourself. Saeran had a greater capacity to deal with his brother than you gave him credit for—and the two of them were so rarely alone, usually buffered by your presence. It was good for them to have to handle each other one on one, every now and then. And you were so comfortable…

You pulled a blanket over your legs, heavy head dropping into the back of the squishy couch. You heard the boys’ voices as if through a tunnel; it was a comforting feeling, drifting off to the sounds of the playful bickering of people you loved.

People you loved…

Your head swam with images of the two of them, manifested by your tired, blurry mind. Long fingers, calloused from typing; sleepy eyes and messy hair and slightly too-big clothing. Red-headed Saeran and white-haired Saeyoung, but no…that wasn’t right…

“Are you sleeping, sweetheart?” You woke abruptly from your half-slumber to the feeling of Saeran’s lips pressing gently against the skin above your right eyebrow. You head felt fuzzy. What were you just thinking about?

“Are we gonna watch a movie, or…?” Saeyoung’s voice came from the doorway, trailing off as he came into the room; you opened one eye and saw him looking down at you, grinning. “Is the princess of the bunker too sleepy?”

“Don’t wanna be the princess of a bunker,” you mumbled, sitting up and tucking the blanket around your knees. “Get me a home that’s above ground and we can talk about who’s the princess.”

Saeyoung laughed, raucous and warm and familiar, and that too felt normal. Maybe, you thought, that moment today in the kitchen was a fluke, a bizarre heart-stuttering anomaly. Saeran slid onto the couch beside you, coiling up lithe body against yours—catlike, adorable. Immediately, you let your head fall onto his shoulder, and draped an arm over your lap.

“Whaaaat did you pick for us?” Saeyoung sang. He hesitated for a moment, as if trying to decide if there was room for him on Saeran’s other side. There obviously wasn’t; he draped himself over the other arm of the couch—technically next to you and yet as noticeably far away from your body as humanly possible. 

Fine, you thought, a little annoyed. Whatever you have to do.

You summarized the movie you’d picked for them and neither one of them protested—they never did. You often wondered whether you had really excellent taste in movies, or if the twins just liked going along with anything you suggested. You didn’t ask which one it was.

Saeyoung used his phone to dim the lights, and the pretty little LEDs came to life, glowing red and yellow in a string above the TV. For what it had lacked in food (and other basic necessities for being alive), the bunker—even when you’d first moved into it—did have excellent movie lighting.

But the dim lights and the movie’s soft soundtrack and the vague feeling of Saeran’s heartbeat just made everything feel hazy again, and you were finding it difficult to keep your eyes open. In your previous life—which felt like forever ago—you were at night owl; at Mint Eye, you’d slept at odd hours, always half-awake, anticipating one of Ray’s rare and delightful visits. He often came in the middle of the night, as if he had no sense of time—“Yes,” Saeran told you later, “You’re right. He didn’t.”

Now, you felt tired all the time. Though you’d emerged physically unharmed from the events of the previous week—though you were the only resident of the bunker, in fact, who had—your mind bore the scars of everything you’d experienced and witnessed recently. You felt it shutting down easily and often, as if begging you for time to heal.

Saeran’s hair tickled your cheek pleasantly and the lurid room blurred with the sounds of the movie into a miasma of comfortable deliciousness in your mind. Your surroundings were edging away, the soft couch disappearing from beneath you, the sounds and sensations melting into a dream…

Laying in a field, the grass caressing your face…

…someone licking icing off your bottom lip…

…the sweet, inexplicable smell of something baking in the distance…

…a soft hand on your thigh…

…and, suddenly, the jarring sensation of your body shifting as somebody got off the couch. You fell into wakefulness heavily.

“…fell asleep,” you murmured, nuzzling your head into Saeran’s shoulder. “Think I had a dream about you.”

The shoulder beneath your head shifted a little, and something felt different; it was more cushioned than you were used to, and maybe a little bit higher up. The angle of your head felt strange. And wasn’t Saeran on your left side…?

“Probably not about me,” said a voice that most certainly did not belong to your boyfriend. Your eyes flew open.

“Oh,” you said.

You were, irrefutably and inexplicably, curled up against Saeyoung.

“I, uhhh…didn’t mean to surprise you,” he muttered. You lifted your head, only making the situation worse—his face was so close to your own. “We didn’t want to wake you.”

His proximity paralyzed you. You’d certainly never been near him like this before—you could practically count every one of his eyelashes and feel the warm breath from his slightly parted lips as he stared down at you, eyes wide behind his glasses. There was such a strange look on his face, and you needed to move, dammit, but his scent intoxicated you and your muscles felt like jelly.

Up close like this, his face held such an innocence. You’d noticed it before, when he was asleep. Normally, his demeanor vacillated wildly between carefree and closed off—both protective mechanisms, ones you recognized easily. Behind all that, though, there was an almost childlike look to him—a wide-eyed longing, as though he was waiting, with a patience that could be borne only from deep neglect, for someone to offer him comfort.

And as you thought this, it was as if something broke inside you—a string, pulled taut, snapped, and you were overcome by the urge to close the tiny bit of distance between you, to press a searing kiss to the crease that had appeared on his forehead, just between his eyes.

Something must have changed in your expression, because he changed, too. The open and naïve yearning on his face was replaced, in one breathtaking instant, with something new: his eyes darkened, clouded over, as though he was at war with himself.

“Oh,” you said again.

And he flinched, as though that one syllable had dragged him back from the precipice of a cliff. There was a new look on his face now, and this one you recognized at once: it was fear.

He leapt to his feet and you instinctively shifted away from him, too; he stood still, silent, eyes cast downward. You didn’t know why, exactly, but you felt as if you’d done something very wrong.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” 

Saeran appeared from the kitchen, and Saeyoung leapt as if he was expecting an attack. You leaned back into the couch, feeling dizzy.

“You slept through most of the movie,” Saeran told you, making his way back to your side. His expression was soft; did he not feel the overwhelming tension in the room?

“Sorry,” you said, leaning into him, toying aimlessly with the edge of his sleeve. “Didn’t mean to.”

He laughed and ruffled your hair; the gesture felt like swallowing a warm drink.

“You don’t have to apologize for falling asleep,” he said.

“I—” said Saeyoung, and you both turned to him; if he hadn’t noticed his brother’s strange behavior before, Saeran certainly noticed it now. You felt him tense a little; Saeyoung stood as though he was in a war zone rather than his own living room. “I’m gonna go to bed,” he finished, a little stiffly. “It’s late.”

It wasn’t.

“Are you sure?” Saeran’s voice was hesitant; after all they’d been through, you thought, the brothers still had no idea how to comfort each other. And Saeran, of course, didn’t actually know what was wrong with Saeyoung. Technically, neither did you.

Except, said a little voice in the back of your head—a little voice that had been growing steadily louder, against your will, for several days. Except you do know, don’t you?

Saeyoung turned away, muscles taut as if he wished he were running. He muttered a goodnight over his shoulder and slunk into the shadows of the hallway. In an instant, he’d disappeared.

Saeran exhaled slowly. For a moment, neither of you spoke.

“Do you know what…?” he started, fingers drumming against your knee.

“Not really.” Neither true nor false.

“I still don’t…” Saeran’s fingers tapped your leg faster, faster. You stilled them with gentle fingers and he looked up at your gratefully. “I still don’t know how to talk to him,” he admitted.

“You’ll learn,” you said.

He nodded slowly and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“I’ll try tomorrow,” he said thoughtfully. You nuzzled your face into his shoulder, hiding your expression.

Saeran buried his other hand in your hair, running his fingers over your scalp in the way he knew you loved. He brushed through the strands, untangling, smoothing. This was one of the first gestures of intimacy he’d felt comfortable with—brushing your hair and, eventually, playing with it with just his fingers. Usually, this pacified you. But tonight, your thoughts were racing, and though you closed your eyes, you couldn’t slow your heart, hammering violently against your ribs.

You, not Saeran, were the one who needed to try to talk to Saeyoung.

But, muttered that frustratingly insistent voice, which was growing louder by the minute, what on earth will you say?

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

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[theamberwriter]

Ficmas Day 1: One More Sleep [Tenya Iida]

Pairing: ProHero!Tenya Iida x Fem!Reader

Song: One More Sleep by Leona Lewis

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: I tried to get this done a few days ago, but I was just so tired 😭 Anyway, I hope that you guys like it!

~

Tenya rubbed his eyes groggily, staring at the ceiling. He rolled over to look at the clock on the nightstand. 3:43 AM. How frustrated he was by this. He should've been asleep hours ago. He sat up, deciding it was no good. Sleep wouldn't come, not until you were here by his side.

    He checked his phone for the date. December 21th. Four. More. Days. Five more grueling, restless nights. Tenya figured he should've been used to this. Spending time apart. Your relationship had been that way since the beginning. You traveled for work while he stayed put. Doing the hero gig he'd always dreamed of.

    But now - so close to Christmas - it was impossible to think of anything else but you. Here. In the bed you'd spend nearly a year deciding on because he insisted you had to look at all the options first. Your side was barely worn. It made his heart ache in ways he was too stubborn to admit.

    Tenya wondered if it's be too cruel to ask you to stop. To stop traveling. To stay put, just for a little while. No more calling at wild hours. No more flickering signals or long distance fees. Just you and him. Together in the home that you'd bought. The place you made love and fought and kissed endlessly to make up for lost time.

    But when was enough, enough?

    He swung his feet out of bed, put on his glasses, and slid on his slippers. A blue bathrobe hung from the best post. It was one you'd bought him last year from somewhere over seas. You had said it reminded you of his eyes. Apparently you'd worn it considerably before gifting it. It was drenched in your scent by the time it reached his hands. The collar smelled like your shampoo, the rest of smelling of your favourite spray. You'd bashfully admitted you wore it because you missed him. And this one little thing made you feel closer.

    Your smell had been washed from it by now. But he silently wished it was still there as he put it on. He only flicked on a few lights as he made his way to the kitchen. A warm cup of tea on a cold, snowy night sounded wonderful. Tenya looked out at the piling snow as he waited for the water to boil.

    He worried your flight would get delayed. Or worse – it'd be put off until after the storm passed. Sure, he'd video chatted you early that evening. But he felt like he'd die if he had to wait even a single day more than he already had to. He ran a hand through his hair. What a funny thing love was.

    Tenya had never expected you to come into his life. He never really expected to share love with anyone. It was just another thing his brother talked sweetly of. Telling him, “Tenya, you'll know when she's the one.” Tenya breathed his brother's every word like gospel.

    Except for that one.

    What had Tensei meant by you'll know – it wasn't very informative. It didn't help too much. It only kept him guessing as he passed attractive women. Until Tenya found you. It wasn't love at first sight. Not entirely. But the first words he thought when he saw your face? I just found my wife.

    It had been such a nauseating, powerful experience. One little glance as you said 'hello' from your new spot at a desk in his agency. Tenya had rushed away, and left out the back so he wouldn't have to pass you again.

    It was the single most powerful moment in his life.

    Many things had changed over the years. You were one of those earth shattering experiences for him. Breaking open the egg that was the world. Showing him more than he would've thought possible. Four years ago, that thought that he'd fall in love with a stranger and get married to them just two years after would've seemed ridiculous. But here you two were.

    You worked as a travel writer. Going to exotic places. Trying new things. Meeting new people. While Tenya was living his dream. Fulfilling his brother's legacy as Ingenium. He never thought being alone could feel so hollow and bitter and cold. He'd never really felt lonely when he was alone, until you two made a home together. Tenya worried that home was too boring for you. Surely it had to be after seeing so much of the world. It gnawed at him. No matter how much reassurance you gave him that coming back home to him was always the best part of the trip.

    Tenya contemplated his tea as he poured in the water. Watching as a deep red color soaked out from the leaves. Only four more days, he kept reminding himself. Five more nights, and she'll be with you. But the mantra didn't help at all.

    Tenya went to his reading chair by the window. Yours was next to his, a table separating them. Your side was stacked with books. Even your chair had a few on it. Bookmarks spouted from a few. Tenya was sure you'd never finish them. But watching you try was endearing nonetheless. Your wedding picture sat on the table, along with a vase of your favourite flowers. He went every day to get one while you were away.

    He counted twenty three. Twenty three flowers. Twenty three days apart. But only four more until you were back in his arms. Until he could kiss you and hold you. Feel your warm skin against his own. They'd made you stay longer, so you'd have writing material through the first of the year. Didn't they know you had a husband and a dog to get back home to?

    That picture encapsulated the best day of his life. A face splitting grin on his own. You wore a goofy smile because he'd made you laugh. Tenya cried when he saw you come down the aisle. Though he desperately tried to hide them. You teased him later about that. He simply covered you with kisses.

    A small lump formed in Tenya's throat as he watched your dog slump sadly down onto the floor in front of your chair. He rolled his eyes up at Tenya and whined, his tail wagging only once. Things just weren't the same with you away. Tenya blew on his tea with a sigh.

    “I know boy, I miss her, too,” he said softly. Then took a sip. The hot tea did nothing to warm the cold that settled in him.

    Only four. More. Days.

    Tenya didn't sleep much after that. Dozing on the couch until the morning light woke him up. He was very stiff and chilled to the bone. Like someone had left a window open. Tenya searched the house, simply pushing the heater up when he found no cause for alarm.

    Tenya was very surprised as he let the dog out. The snow was ludicrously high. Five feet, give or take. He was willing to say give. Your poor pooch could barely get down to use the bathroom. Tenya just knew he was going to have to shovel a path for him.

    Was his ideal morning bundled up and shoveling snow? He was fairly sure that no body's was. But he diligently donned his his coat, hat, scarves, gloves, and snow boots. Being a good dog father and shoveling a path down into the yard.

    Tenya chuckled at the thought of you out here last year in the snow. A hair dry plugged into the side of the house. He yelled at you about the hazard, trying to argue that a hair dryer was not the most efficient way the clear snow. You started a snow ball fight after that. You'd both gone in drenched, and took a nice, hot, steamy shower together. His body tingled warmly at the thought, his face (and quite a few other places) feeling hot.

    After shoveling, it was shower time. Then he made himself and the dog breakfast (yes, he makes the dog's food because he is a very good doggy daddy). After was time to tend to all the chores he'd been putting off in the wake of his depression. This included wrapping your gifts. Tenya knew you'd be home for Christmas, but it'd been too painful to wrap them before. Between his loneliness and the excitement that bubbled in him at the thought of you coming home in a few days, he felt numb but jittery. One canceling the other out.

    And there was still so much to do.

    Ochaco and Izuku had accidentally, inadvertently invited themselves over for Christmas. They wanted to throw a party. And somehow Tenya had gotten wrapped up in it all. He hadn't been able to get a hold of you to try and talk them down. So he did the responsible thing and said he'd take care of it all. They gushed about what to bring and who to invite, he just had to take care of the house and making sure everything was perfect. He supposed this was a sort of coming home celebration for you, so it didn't annoy him quite as much.

    Tenya measured the dimensions each and every package he wrapped. Then he measured the wrapping paper. The process was tedious, but it ensured every piece of paper was used to the fullest. He pulled off the smallest pieces of tape that he possibly could, so he didn't waste the roll. Honestly, Tenya thought of how you might react as you opened them all. The excitement, the embarrassment, the sheer happiness that he wanted so much to bring you. He'd gone overboard, sure. But you were worth every penny. And all the burnt fingers. The thing he'd tried to make you did not go as well as he wanted. But Tenya just knew you were going to love it.

    After wrapping, he figured having a nice tree to put them under would help. He'd only gone out and bought one. Nothing was decorated. That was something you two usually did together. There wasn't a tinkle of a light anywhere to be seen. Though he knew Ochaco and Izuku expected the place to look as warm and cozy as it always did this time of year.

    The decorations were stored in a closet under the stairs. You had made it a giant Janga tower. Honestly, Tenya was a little scared to pull everything out. If he was crushed to death by decorations, no body would know for days. He studied your tower for a while. Thinking about when you'd put them in. You had struggled tremendously. He'd just chuckled. Tenya always thought everything you did was endearing. In it's own sort of way. In the love touched way.

    When Tenya was sure nothing was going to fall, he started to pull things out and organize them into piles. Garland, ornaments, outside lights, indoor lights, the tree angel, upstairs decorations, table runners, stockings – he sprinted through the house as he sorted. He planned to start upstairs, then work his way down.

    By the time he finished the upstairs it was early evening. He'd missed lunch, stopping only briefly to feed the dog. Now it was dinner time. He had no gumption to cook, though. So he heated up leftovers and sat at the table. Tenya stared at your empty chair as he ate. It was made up with a place mat, and a book, and your favourite mug.

    Three more days.

    It surprised him in the morning when there was a ring at the doorbell. Tenya had been up, working slowly at things around the house. He wasn't planning on company. Nor for Ochaco and Izuku to be standing behind the door. They had their own bags and piles of things in their arms. They grinned widely at him.

    “What a surprise,” Tenya said, then moved aside. “Come in out of the snow. I hope the roads weren't too bad.”

    They nodded and ducked in. “Thanks!”

    “Most of the snow is melted already,” Ochaco pouted. “Izuku and I built a snowman yesterday, but he was just a pile of mush things morning!”

    Izuku looked around, clearly surprised by the bare walls and shelves and tree. “Tenya, you haven't started decorating yet?”

    Tenya looked away ashamedly. Eyes wandering on their own to a picture of you. His guests' eyes followed. Ochaco's grin dropped.

    “Oh,” she said, putting her stuff down. “You're probably waiting for [Name], right?”

    “Tenya, if you didn't want to have the party, you could've said something,” Izuku insisted.

    Tenya had tried to tell them he didn't want to throw the party. Not at his house anyway. But they were so excited that they didn't listen. “It's fine. [Name] is coming home on Christmas. It'll be nice to have everyone here to welcome her back. I've just been putting it off. I didn't want to decorate alone.”

    Ochaco hugged him tightly. “I'm sorry, Tenya. We're here to help!”

    “Yeah!” Izuku looked disproportionately determined for the task. But Tenya was glad that his friend was as enthusiastic as ever. He needed the energy boost. “We're going to make it amazing for when [Name] comes home! You have nothing to worry about.”

    The pair ran off, doing what, Tenya didn't know. But he sure was glad to have friends like them. They helped him finish decorating downstairs. And he made them lunch. Soon everything was dripping with sparkling lights and garlands and glitter. Three stockings hung on hooks that suctioned to the wall, one for you, one for Tenya, and one for the dog. He hoped to add more stockings in the near future. But how was that going to happen when you were barely home together long enough?

    Ochaco and Izuku treated Iida to dinner that evening. Taking him to a restaurant down the way. They chatted quietly, mostly going over holiday plans.

    “We're going to my parents' on Christmas Eve,” Ochaco noted, looking over the menu. “Then Deku's mom and All Might are coming with us to the party Christmas day. I hope you don't mind.”

    Tenya shook his head. “No, it'll be nice to see them.”

    “Are you doing anything Christmas Eve? You could always come with us,” offered Izuku.

    “I'm going to my parents house. Tensei and his wife will be there.”

    Ochaco's eyes lit up. “I didn't know he got married!”

    “Not too long before I did. She's a lovely woman, and takes very good care of my brother. We're all very grateful to her.” Tensei smiled lightly, thinking about his brother's wedding. It'd been a very beautiful ceremony with many tears. He was best man, and dreaming about the day he was going to propose to you.

    They ate and talked and laughed. For just a little while, Tenya felt like himself. Izuku and Ochaco walked him back home. It was dark now, and cold bit through their coats.

    “Oh, before we go – I have invites for you to pass out at your agency.” Ochaco produced a stack of envelopes from her pocket. “Could you give them out next time you go in?”

    “I managed to get a few days off to prepare for [Name]'s arrival, but I can run them in tomorrow,” Tenya said, taking the stack.

    “Let us know when you're back,” said Izuku. “We'll help you decorate the outside.”

    Tenya shook his head. “You've already done so much, I couldn't ask for more.”

    “It's really no problem. We don't mind helping.”

    “Very well, then.” Tenya nodded. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

    As Tenya shut himself in for the night he sighed, leaning his head back against the door.

    Just two more days.

    Tenya set off bright and early the next morning. The air was still frosty and the sky looked like it wanted to flood the ground with more white. He was going to try and make this trip quick. He'd been getting increasingly pitying looks. He didn't want to hang around long, to see their eyes boring holes in him.

    He hesitated at the doors, watching as his breath floated up to the sky. Even with gloves on, it felt like the cold seeped through from the door handle. Tenya didn't bother going to his office. He stopped at the front desk. The woman there smiled up at him.

    “Good morning, Mr. Ingenium,” she greeted. “How can I help you?”

    “I need you to distribute these to all of the staff and heroes,” he said, pulling a large stack of envelopes from his coat. He'd spent the entire night trying to remember all of the staff at his agency.

    “Can do.” She took the envelopes. But she didn't shift her gaze. “You look tired, sir. Are you doing okay?”

    “There's a lot to do, is all. My wife will be home in a few days.” Tenya cleaned his glasses, looking for an excuse to break eye contact.

    “Right,” she bit curtly. “Your wife.”

    Tenya leaned on the counter, hoping to charm her with a smile. He was far too tired for this today. He was going to have to hire a new secretary sometime soon. “Izumi, it would mean a lot if you could pass these out to everyone. I'd be very grateful.”

    The woman softened. “Anything you want, sir.”

    He nodded. “Thank you.”

    Tenya left swiftly, before he had to endure anymore one sided flirting. The distaste his secretary expressed for his wife got tiresome. Along with her not-so-subtle hints for him to have an affair with her. He had more important things to worry about. Like making sure you came home to a magical display.

    “Izuku,” he started, phone to his ear as he walked down the road. “I just left I should be home....soon....”

    “Okay Tenya!” Izuku cheered from the other side. Then there was a long pause. “Tenya?”

    But the man was distracted by the window he was passing. “I'll call you back when I get to the house.”

    “Wait, is something wro –”

    Tenya hung up, staring at the window display. It was perfect. It was just what he was looking for to top off the season. You were going to love it. He rushed in, demanding the display in the window. He wasn't usually the type. But he was just too excited. The clerks gently packaged it, tying neat bows around the box. Tenya had to stop himself from sprinting full force down the road.

    He rushed a message to Izuku when he got home. But there was no hope of sitting still for him. By the time Ochaco and Izuku got there, he'd already had half the outside decorated. He was on the roof, hooking up the lights. He waved down at them.

    Ochaco floated up the rest of the boxes for the roof. Izuku nearly floated away as he tried to help finish the lights. Tenya caught him and hauled him down. It felt like they were back in UA as students with the ensuing chaos.

    Tenya treated the pair to a home made dinner. They had a few drinks and some laughs. But honestly, he just wanted to chug through the next few days. Today was the twenty third. Two more days to Christmas. Two more days to you coming home.

    The trio examined their handy work when the sun went down. The house glowed and twinkled. It really did look like a winter wonderland. Tenya just knew you were going to love it. He was looking forward to seeing your face as you watched the display they made.

    Just a few more days.

    The morning of the twenty fourth was a lazy one. He didn't want to get out of bed. Tenya wanted to lay there until the following night. When you'd be there with him. To finally warm the thorough chill that hadn't left him in days.

    But eventually he pulled himself up, going to the vase in the living room.

    “Twenty five,” he muttered, slipping a flower in. “Twenty six....you'll have a very big bouquet this time, [Name].”

    Tenya set to breakfast. He'd lost all his fire from yesterday. He was a tired shell now. He was so sure you were going to love what he found for you. But now one, long agonizing day laid ahead of him. The house was decorated, inside and out. Presents were wrapped. The tree was ready. Filled to the brim with perfectly packaged gifts, awaiting your arrival.

    Tomorrow would be the party. You'd arrive after dark, hopefully with people still around to greet you. You wouldn't have to worry about a thing. Ochaco and Izuku were going to take care of all the other little details. All of the invites read a potluck and BYOB. In the meantime, he had to wait the day out. The only thing he had to look forward to distract him was seeing his family later that evening.

    Christmas morning was to be lonely. Then, by three, the house would start filling up. By eight, you should be walking up the front entrance. By 8:01, you'd be in his arms and smothered in kisses. With any luck, you'd be making love by midnight.

    Tenya went out and shoveled snow again. More than two feet had fallen in the night. The more snow that fell, the more he worried the weather was going to be too rough for your plane. He needed you, sooner rather than later preferably.

    The day seemed to crawl away. Only a few minutes had passed every time he glanced at the clock. Had it always been so difficult to entertain himself? He'd already showered, made lunch, brushed snow meticulously from the front porch and back deck. He uncovered all of the decorations he'd put up the day before.

    He was impatient by the time he had to leave to see his family. Even the ride there drove him crazy. The road seemed to stretch. The cars squeezing from every side. Would the tedium ever cease?

    As the evening with his family began, he discovered it would not. Even as he laughed with his parents and brother, as he listened to stories and shared a few. His eyes never left his watch for long. It didn't go unnoticed, but it was left unmentioned. Just a look exchanged around him.

    They knew, of course. That he counted down every second until he'd see you again. The light and fire you brought into his life was wonderful to see. But how they wished you didn't leave so much.

    Tenya went to bed when he got home. But sleep didn't come. Not for a very long time. He tried to force himself asleep, just a single thought leaping in his head.

    One. More. Night.

    A new tickle of joy danced in his chest as he realized the day. Christmas. You were going to be home. He was going to be counting down the hours until he saw you.

    Tenya zipped through his morning. Shoveling the fresh few inches of snow. Hand making the dog's food for the next week. Making breakfast for himself, showering, and pulling out the outfit you'd picked over video call a week ago. Just a red sweater with stripes and snowflakes and charcoal grey slacks. He spent time cleaning, making sure every inch was dusted.

    He had his fire back – until he checked his phone just after lunch.

[NAME] (Wife)

My plane is being delayed. I won't be home until tomorrow. I'm so sorry, my love, I wanted to be home for Christmas. So, very much....

    Tenya felt a little bit of himself break. He slumped in his reading chair, phone discarded on the table. He stared blankly ahead of him. His worst fear had come true. One more day had turned into two. And with this snow, two could easily turn into three or four.

    Ochaco and Izuku came not too long after. They knocked on the door, rang the door bell. The dog barked. Eventually they tried the handle, letting themselves in. They exchanged a worried look as they spied their friend. They could see the hollowness of his eyes.

    “Tenya...?” Ochaco whispered.

    “She's not coming,” he muttered numbly.

    Izuku put a hand on Tenya's shoulder. “What do you mean?”

    “[Name]'s flight – it's been delayed. She won't be home until tomorrow....” Tenya could barely scrap his eyes to his phone. He didn't want to look at it. To see anything else that might ruin him.

    “But she'll be home, at least.”

    “You don't understand. You two have each other. Tensei will be spending the holiday with his wife. And I have her. If [Name] isn't here....”

    Izuku and Ochaco glanced at each other again.

    “We'll still have a good time, Tenya,” Ochaco said, trying to cheer him up.

    “Yeah, people will start to be here soon! You won't even know she's missing!” Then Izuku began to panic. “Not that we don't want her here. But maybe getting your mind off of her will help. Not that you shouldn't miss your wife on a holiday but –”

    Tenya chuckled. At least something was normal. Izuku eased some at the sound. He and Ochaco set up the kitchen, while Tenya put away anything he didn't want broken. You never knew if someone was going to get rowdy.

    As the first people showed up, the booze flooded in. Tenya had only meant to have one. But he was having a self-pity streak. One became two, two became three. Different Christmas mixes that people brought, some made right in his kitchen; homemade egg nogs, and Christmas cocktails, holiday ciders. He claimed they were just to try. Normally, he'd be following people around. Putting down coasters, ensuring that they didn't slosh on the couch, making sure no one was scuffing up the floors. But Izuku was already doing a pretty good job of that. Probably to make sure Tenya didn't have to worry. But it left him too idle.

    Tenya chatted with his co-workers as they came. They complimented his house, saying they wouldn't have expected anything else from an Iida. He went around, greeting everyone. Thanking each person for coming. Each drink numbing just slightly more. He spent a good deal of time talking to Izuku's mom and All Might.

    He was caught in the middle of an inescapable conversation with his insufferable secretary when Izuku came to tap him on the shoulder. His friend pointed towards the entrance to your house. Tenya's eyes followed his arm, going wide at what they found. They swept to the clock on the wall – it only read 5:23. In alarm, he triple checked what he was reading, to be sure he was right. With a puff from his quirk, Tenya launched himself.

    You screamed as he tackled you. He kept you upright, making you didn't fall. Tenya smooshed your face with too many kisses to keep up with. He squeezed you tightly in his arms. You could smell the liquor on him. Since when did he drink? You hoped this wasn't the start of a bad habit.

    “[Name]! You're here!” he exclaimed in disbelief. He held you at arm's length, looking you up and down just to be sure you were real.

    You laughed, nodding. “Yeah!”

    “But your plane –”

    “I – uh – I lied.” You glanced away from him, your face hot. “My flight was actually bumped up. I wanted to surprise you. I wasn't expecting you to get stupid drunk.”

    Tenya sunk to the floor, and pulled you into his lap. He was so cute with his goofy grin and the pink dusting on his cheeks. He rubbed his cheek against yours. Your guests chuckled at the sight. You pulled him in for a long, hard kiss. So glad to finally have him in your arms. You could feel every bit of his body against yours. You had to calm his hands as they roamed freely over your body. They were dipping into places that shouldn't be caressed in public.

    Finally – no more counting the days.

    No more nights between you.

    No more hours to wait.

    You two were together. And it was the sweetest feeling in the world.

    “Why wouldn't I have been upset by the delay?” he rambled. “I've missed you, and I didn't want to think of another day without you here. I needed a little boost. Drinking was perhaps not the best choice.”

    Tenya clung to you all night, never letting you out of his sight. Seeing everyone was lovely. You really couldn't have asked for a better homecoming. The lights he'd put up outside were spectacular. And the warm cozy air your home had taken on was supernatural. Or maybe it was just because you were glad to be home.

    It was nearly midnight when everybody finally left. Ochaco and Izuku had stayed to help you clean. Tenya wouldn't let you go long enough to do anything. You were about to force him upstairs when he stumbled over to the tree.

    “No, no, no – you have to open this. While it's still Christmas. Please,” Tenya pouted, and forced a little black box with a shimmering silver lid into your hand. The childish pout on his face was adorable, but he really should've been getting to bed.

    “Tenya –”

    “Open it.”

    You eyed him suspiciously, but planted yourself on the couch. He adhered himself to your side. He held you closely, head on your shoulder. A red ribbon was tied lovingly around the box. It was always too beautiful to unwrap. You had a suspicion Tenya hadn't done this himself. He packaged things neatly, but aesthetics weren't his forte.

    You pulled the ribbon, then peered into the box. You looked at him, then in the box, then back again.

    “You did not go out and spend a fortune,” you scolded.

    Tenya shrugged. “You deserve the world.”

    “Tenya!” But you couldn't deny it was beautiful.

    It was simple, with a thin silver chain. Hanging from the end was a pendant. It had your birth stone in set on the part where the chain went through. And there was immaculate scroll work around the edges. Tenya took it briefly from your hands, the pressed the sides.

    The front popped open. A lump pressed in your throat. A miniature of your wedding photo was nestled inside the frame. Tenya turned it over, revealing both of your initials along with your wedding date on the back.

    “I left the other half open, for when we have a family of our own,” he muttered drowsily. “I love you more than the world. I'm very happy you're finally home. I'd be very happy if you didn't have to leave again.”

    “I love this. I love you,” you murmured in reply, then turned your head to kiss him.

    You put the locket back in the box, then helped him stand. You hauled Tenya upstairs, and got him changed. He insisted on brushing his teeth, even though he coud barely stand up right. The necklace took up a home on your night stand. You were going to wear this every day that you could. It was your new favourite piece of jewelry.

    Once you were settled into bed, he immediately took you in him arms. He hummed in content.

    “How would you feel about being a secretary?” Tenya slurred, nuzzling his nose into the back of your neck. “I'm going to need a new one soon. Mine is gonna get fired.”

    You sighed. “I actually wanted to talk to about that. I wanted to wait until you were sober. But – I'm going to quit my job. That way I can be home with you. If we want a family....I'm also tired of spending so much time away from you. You can't imagine how lonely the world is without you with me to see it.”

    Tenya sighed. “I want your....baabbeeezzz...”

    You chuckled. “Tenya? - Love?”

    A light snoring told you he was out cold. You smiled to yourself as he snuggled closer to you. You relaxed into him. You'd been waiting for this for ages. Or, it felt like ages anyway. You didn't want to be away from him anymore. Coming home to the one you love? It was amazing. But getting to stay home with them? That was the best Christmas gift you could ask for.

~

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha #mha #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha headcanons #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #tenya imagine #tenya iida x oc #tenya iida #bnha christmas #mha christmas #ficmas 2020 #twelve days of ficmas #12 days of ficmas #mha iida #iida imagine #iida tenya #iida headcanons #fem reader #tenya iida x fem reader #ingenium #pro hero tenya iida #bnha au #mha au

[girls-in-bikiniiss]

Tucked

You down your drink once more, kissing the ice as it clinks against the short glass.  You just got dumped by a pro hero—aka your high school sweetheart. You never made it pro, but you knew how to run a damn good agency. You met him after running into him after UA's school festival. He was bandaged up after being seen by the nurse. You remember turning the corner and both of you colliding into each other. After that, it was history. Even though the two of you were in separate classes, you were inseparable. It was like that until your third year and then he grew distant. His need to become the best hero overriding his love for you. You stayed with him, supporting him and accepting not being his number one anymore, but his happiness was too important. You never expected your downfall two more years down the road. Now here you are, twenty years old and sipping bourbon in a dimly lit bar, mascara smudged under your eyes from a fresh breakup.

~Earlier that day~ >Girl, you need to get back out there! He's trash!

You loved your best friend, you really did, but you knew she didn’t like how your ex had been treating you for the past two years. She was in your class and saw your entire relationship blossom.

>But I still love him...

>You're in love with a wannabe. He's not even a hero.

>He has an agency.

>mhm...

>Look, the best way to get over someone is to get under a new one. Who knows, maybe he'll hear about it and get jealous~

>I don't think that's a good idea -.-

>Look...I didn't want to tell you, but I heard he's been flirting with this hero at his agency (◞‸◟) >I'm telling you. Go get dressed up, go to a bar, and find someone mysterious and sexy.

You stopped responding to your friend and cradled your head in your hands. He's been flirting with someone else?? You wiped a tear away and made up your mind. Now you're sitting at the bar in a tight black dress feeling completely foolish for listening to your friend.

Until a man came and sat next to you at the crowed bar.

Wearing a leather trench coat, a tall and lanky man walked in, ordering a glass of whiskey. You watch him here and there, how he picks up his glass oh-so-carefully with four fingers, his pinky out. How refined.

"Will you need a refill, miss?" The bartender asked. You nod and look at the news on the silent TV  behind the counter. HIS face appeared on the screen in an interview and you groan. "Stupid super hero..." you mumble to yourself, earning a snicker from the man next to you.

"That sounded like disdain to me." His voice was raspy yet full of intrigue.

"That 'hero' is my ex boyfriend." Bitterness dripped between your teeth as you took another sip of your drink.

A flash of disgust showed through a quick sneer on the man's face.

"Tell me about it." You sigh, continuing on, "Who, just dumped me, mind you. Broke my heart without blinking." You look back to the TV, barely a murmur, "Instead of taking care of society all the time, why didn't you take care of those who loved you?"

"Yes, why don't hero's protect the ones they love over society?" The man mused. "In fact, why do heroes get to use their quirks and violence for the 'greater good' of society? Who determines that?"

You took a sip, listening to his nihilistic speech. "We once lived without superheroes on the streets. Superheroes have just created broken families, whether the realize it or not. But do they get reprimanded? No! They're praised by the same SHEEP who get broken apart."

You felt a nerve hit. You always hoped for a family with your ex, yet his desire to be the best superhero broke that dream apart. You felt this man's anger. "You know? I feel that." You slurred your words with pain emerging. "Why does society rely on heroes so much? Like, to the point where they wouldn't know what to do without them. We used to live without heroes. We used to not have quirks. I hate how much we rely on them. They can't even have their own family and be there for them. That stupid hero," you pointed at the screen, "just broke my idea of family apart because he wanted to get ahead in his career. How messed up is that? Being forced to choose between love or a career?"

"Stupid girl," he muttered, not reaching your ears, "He wasn't forced. He decided to have his ego stroked by fans. That's the issue on hand."

You took a look at the man next to you. Blue hair, ruby eyes, the cutest mole by his lip. He had bags under his eyes, but so did you from all the crying. You had never met someone so outspoken about their disdain of the superhero society. It was refreshing.

The best way to get over a man is to get under one, right?

"The name is Y/N Y/L/N."  You offered your glass to clink against his.

"...Tenko."

The evening grew late while you and Tenko slandered the hero's name. "I haven't laughed this hard in a long time. Thank you. I really needed this." The liquid courage had run its course through your body and you were starting to sober up, but still feeling the effects. Tenko gave you a grin. He always loved meeting people scorned by heroes, their rose colored glasses fallen off. It made it that much easier to destroy the faith in a hero's society.

"I should get going. Oh shoot. I don't have money for a cab." You muttered to yourself as you rummaged your purse.

"Let me walk you home."

You looked at his face, scanning for anything sinister, but he seemed genuine. You nodded and paid the tab. You steadied yourself as you stood, only to have your eyes meet his collar bone.

This man was tall. You look up to see him smugly looking down at you, aware of the height difference. Yet his politeness charmed you to feel safe.

Out on the street your heels clicked against the asphalt, Tenko walking next to you quietly. "I appreciate you walking me home. I know I shouldn't have drank that much tonight; especially when I went alone. I didn't think about the walk home. Who knows what lurks in the shadows?" You rub the back of your neck.

Tenko chuckled while looking at his red high tops as he walked. Hands shoved in his pockets, he looked as if he could melt into the shadows himself. In fact, if you had not met him earlier, and saw him walking toward you, you were sure you'd feel frightened. But somehow, walking with him you felt safe, like no one was going to come up and mess with you.

You reached the door of your apartment and turned to him. "Well, home sweet home..." The best way to get over someone was by getting under a new one. Your friend's words rang in your head. "Would you like to come in? Maybe for one more drink?" Tenko looked at the building and then to the door, reading the number and smiled. "You have a nice night, Y/N." You shrug your shoulders and bid the handsome man goodnight.

You change out of your dress into the short nightgown and wash your face. Flipping the duvet over, you crawl into bed and get comfortable to scroll through your phone. A knock echos through your apartment. Who could that be? A mental image of your ex pops into your head but you do your best to waft that bubble cloud away. Getting out of bed you open the door a crack to see the blue haired man. "Tenko?" You opened the door wider. "On second thought, I'll take that drink."

A dark shade of lust covered his ruby eyes as he walked through the door, pushing you back. As if stalking his prey, Tenko neared you slowly all the way across the room. You felt your calf hit the back of your bed and you had to catch yourself before falling. A smirk reached his lips, looking like flustering you was exactly what he wanted.

His figure towered over you, reaching down to brush delicate fingers across your cheek. His hair covering his eyes as he dipped down to break your personal space. A tight knot in your stomach formed as he neared, his warm breath made your eyes flutter as his lips grazed your cheek. He ran a finger up and down your arm, his other arm beginning to snake around your waist, pulling you closer.

"Could your hero boyfriend make you feel like this?" he whispered in your ear.

A gasp reached your lips, and as soon as he heard it, he pushed you down against the white comforter on your bed, kissing your neck down to your shoulder.

You heard your phone ping, breaking you out of the trance. Looking to your phone on your pillow and back, Tenko had vanished. Confusion washed over your foggy mind.

He wasn't there.

A frustrated sigh steamed out and you buried your face in your pillow. At least you could keep this tucked away inside the back of your head.

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tenko #bnha #my hero academia #my hero fanfic #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki thirst #shigaraki fanfiction #tenko shimura

[itcamefromthetoybox]

Michael Keaton Starring in “Birdman”

Alright, we all know a new Spider-Man movie is coming out soon. Disney dropped the trailers for it, the internet has been exploding with speculation, and somehow, Tom Holland hasn’t spoiled the entire plot yet as of this writing. Of course, a new Spider-Man movie means new toys, like some we’ve previously discussed on this blog. My fiancee, being absolutely awesome, actually got me one as an early Christmas gift the other day, in fact! So today, let’s take a look at “Spider-Man: No Way Home Wing Blast Marvel’s Vulture!”

Just a head’s up, this paragraph does have spoilers for “Spider-Man: Homecoming.” For those of you who didn’t see “Spider-Man: Homecoming,” Vulture was the main antagonist. He was a blue collar worker whose company was hired to clean up after the Avengers’ fight with aliens in New York, only for Tony Stark to make his own agency to deal with that, putting Vulture’s company out of work and making a nice penny for himself by handling the damage he was partially responsible for. Vulture, facing the risk of losing his only means of providing for his family and having to lay off all his employees, started using alien tech left he had already salvaged to create a winged flight suit and start stealing tech from Stark to sell. And somehow, we were supposed to see him as a villain here. Considering that at the end of the movie, he was one of the only Marvel villains to not die on screen and he refused to give up Spider-Man’s secret identity, a lot of people walked out of the theaters seeing Vulture as someone to like and root for.

I just can’t hate this guy. If a rich asshole ruined my life, I’d also run around dressed like an animal trying to get payback. My fursona: REVENGE!

This figure’s look is almost completely inspired by Vulture’s Homecoming design, with only a few changes. His hands are sculpted holding what look like tasers, which he never had in the movie, and his wing pack includes two large cannons, which he also never used before. Other than that, his design is right out of the first movie, and the box even says it was inspired by Homecoming. He’s meant to go with the Web Spin and Web Grappler Spider-Man figures we looked at a while back, and goes great with them. He feels like a bigger, bulkier figure, which makes sense, as he is a grown man in good shape wearing bulky clothing and armor and Spider-Man is a kid in tights. Also, unlike Spider-Man, Vulture actually has really good balance, which is kind of funny because his whole deal is flying around, and not standing there.

In terms of articulation, Vulture has elbow and shoulder joints, and what feels like a balljoint neck. However, the frill of his jacket and the shape of his helmet mean that it’s hard to tell and he can’t look up. Because his hands are sculpted to be holding tasers, Vulture can’t hold anything in them, which bugs me a bit, to be honest. Vulture has no leg articulation, but this is due to the gimmick, which we’ll look when the time is right.

…

The time has come! Vulture’s gimmick is pretty cool. Squeezing his legs flaps his wings and also causes his cannons to flip up over his shoulders. When they’re up, though, you do have to fold the barrels down into firing position and then back again when you want to put the guns away. The cannons being up doesn’t impact the wing flapping, so you can have him fly through the sky, blasting Spider-Man (and also Iron Man, who did directly almost ruin his entire life). The cannons are pressure-activated, meaning you have to push the back of the missile to launch it out of the cannon.

Big Bird’s packing heat!

I have two complaints with the gimmick. The first, and maybe this is just a problem with my particular figure, is that his left wing isn’t as stable as the right wing and wiggles a little when it flaps. My second complaint is really more with the pressure guns in toys in general. See, when I was a kid, you’d push a button to fire a missile, or pull a trigger. The pressure missiles are becoming more popular, which could be a problem for people with certain disabilities that affect physical strength and what you can do with your hands in general. I for one know that if my condition’s acting up, I honestly might have more trouble firing a missile like that. I know that’s something hard for able-bodied people to understand, as they haven’t had to deal with it, but it can be a real challenge sometimes.

Disney Presents: “Harvey Birdman: Attorney At Law”

Vulture is very much aimed at kids and goes for about $15. He’s a fun toy and definitely something Spider-Man fans, or people who hate Tony Stark, would love, and he’d make a nice holiday gift. You can find him now on toy shelves. This is JL signing off and wishing you all Happy Toy Hunting!

#marvel #disney #MCU #marvel cinematic universe #Vulture #Adrian Toomes #michael keaton #Spider-Man #spider-man homecoming #Spider-Man: No Way Home #spider-man no way home #spider-man: homecoming #No Way Home #spider-man nwh #toy #toys #review #reviews #toy review #toy reviews #action figure #action figures

[lassieposting]

wow

I think you're the only person in the entire fandom shipping Mevolent / Vile.

do you have some NSFW headcanons ??? 👀

Do I have any smutty headcanons...oh nonnie my sweet summer child I have smutty headcanons for every single ship i have

Anyway I spent ages trying to figure out wtf counted as sufficiently smutty so have an askmeme

Top/Bottom. Do they have a preference?

Top Mevolent/Power Bottom Vile.

Vile is actually versatile, but Mevolent isn't really into bottoming.

Dom/Sub. Do they have a preference?

Mevolent doesn't have a submissive bone in his body. He's the Brat Tamer sort of dom - he prefers cheeky, stubborn, feisty partners who'll act out and give him a power struggle but ultimately melt for him.

With...pretty much anyone else, Vile would actually be the dom. He is what Mevolent affectionately refers to as "a handful", which is probably the understatement of the century, and at the start of their relationship it's an all-out battle for control - they have the kind of sex that's half a fight, they overturn furniture, they leave marks, they draw blood.

But at one point, Vile was Skulduggery, and Skug was versatile with very obvious subby tendencies, so there's a little residual part of Vile that's very into dom!Mevolent. Over time, as they build trust and get closer, he gets more comfortable ultimately letting that part win out. Not that he makes it easy most of the time - he's fiery, he likes making Mevolent overpower him because the power struggle is half the fun, and he's still terrible for trying to top from the bottom, but he does settle down from "genuinely determined to dom Mevolent" to more just...being a brat for shits and giggles.

How long can they go?

There is a definite difference lmfao. Mevolent likes younger men. Vile is like four or five centuries younger than he is, and his last sexual partner - Serpine - is also around Vile's age. So unless Mevolent tires Vile out before getting off himself, Vile will be raring to go again long before poor Mev is done recovering.

Sexual fantasies?

Mevolent is pretty into the idea of corrupting heroic resistance leader Skulduggery into changing sides to fight for him (via sex rather than torture). He doesn't look too closely at this one, doesn't look at it at all tbh beyond "corruption kink is hot", but there's a part of him that actually feels responsible for all of Vile's trauma - he sent Serpine after Skulduggery in the first place, he authorised the torture and the eventual execution...when Vile has night terrors and wakes up lashing out and panicking, he feels like he caused that. He lowkey loves the idea that they could've ended up together under different, happier circumstances. He knows Vile well enough to keep this particular fantasy to himself, though: Vile's past is a touchy subject.

In the same vein, "naive inexperienced temple-born Vile" hits all of Mevolent's religious/virginity kink buttons. With the added bonus that Vile will actually indulge him on this one occasionally.

Any sexual fantasies/kinks they’re ashamed of?

So, Mevolent is religious and deeply so, which means he is essentially a ball of guilt and religious hangups, but he's also not Eliza Scorn levels of devout, meaning he'll commit certain sins and then feel bad about them later. This entire relationship is a huge source of internal conflict for him. On the one hand, he loves Vile. Vile makes him happy, is cuddly in the mornings, and gives fantastic head. On the other, Vile is a heretic. Long-term committed relationship aside, even sleeping with a heretic is taboo - are you truly devoted to the gods if you're willing to sully your body, their vessel when they return to this world, by rutting with heathens? And while most of his inner circle - who also commit sins of varying degrees of severity - are willing to turn a blind eye to his choice of paramour, and while he ultimately considers the relationship worth the guilt and the anxiety, sometimes he thinks about what will happen to him - the punishment he'll receive - when the Faceless Ones return and feels sick inside.

Vile will get off on Mevolent manhandling/overpowering him, and then feel kind of weird and dirty and dissociated afterwards. He drops hard, and sometimes he wants to be left alone and other times he gets as close as he can and it's still not enough, he wants to crawl inside Mev's skin with him and maybe then he'll feel like he really exists. He doesn't have the emotional awareness to realise that he's using Mevolent - someone he trusts not to hurt him - to try and take his agency back by recreating how he felt when Serpine was torturing him, but with a different outcome (where feeling helpless/exposed/vulnerable etc leads to pleasure and praise and being taken care of by someone who loves him, instead of, you know, agony and death). All he really knows is that he gets off on it at the time and then feels guilty about it after. They both need therapy, but Mevolent knows him well enough to be pretty good at aftercare.

Are they loud/vocal, or do they stay quiet?

Vile makes being quiet into an artform, but Mevolent takes that as a challenge. He can get little gasps and moans out of Vile if he puts his mind to it, but he really has to work for them.

Mevolent is? Normal levels of loud, usually, but he keeps it down as much as possible while they're fucking around in secret.

Favourite position?

They actually agree on this one - riding/Vile-on-top. Mevolent gets to lay back and let his much younger lover do most of the work, he has a great view, he can touch as much as he likes, he gets to watch Vile fall apart. Vile gets to be in control and tease and drag it out as long as he likes, and when he's done in and keels over, he can chill out on Mev's chest until he gets his breath back.

Clothes off or on during sex?

Vile prefers either clothes on or lights off. He very much enjoys looking at Mevolent naked, but he doesn't like being looked at himself. He used to be very pretty and he knew it, but now when he looks at himself in the mirror all he can see is his scars, a canvas painted by Serpine. Underneath the fake body is even worse - unlike Skug, Vile's been using necromancy to pretend he isn't a bag of bones for the past couple centuries; he hasn't actually processed it at all.

Mevolent on the other hand is a clothes off, lights on person. Even during their mostly-clothed up-against-the-wall angry hookups, he'll be tugging Vile's collar out of the way to get at skin; neck or chest or collarbone. He doesn't give a rat's ass about the scars, he has plenty of his own.

They mostly compromise with candlelight or a fire in the grate. Soft, low light hides a multitude of sins, which makes Vile more comfortable, and turns his hair to burnished copper, which Mevolent loves.

Do they like to cuddle after sex?

They do! It takes a while for them to figure that out - at first they hook up and then Vile gets dressed and leaves and that's how they like it. Serpine was very much desperate for any scrap of affection from Mevolent, so it's a refreshing change to have someone who's after the same thing as Mevolent - a quick fuck with no emotions or strings attached.

But eventually they start spending longer together, lazing and talking or dozing in between going at it like rabbits, and they realise that? It's nice to hold and be held, to pet and be pet without the expectation of it going anywhere. Vile has freckles and Mevolent likes making patterns out of them (he's adamant he's found the Faceless circles/his own crest on Vile's ass cheek), and Mevolent will doze off to Vile idly stroking up and down his spine. Vile likes having his hair played with. Mevolent likes to prop his cheek on Vile's head to read. They become a pretty cuddly couple tbh.

Do they like having sex outside of the bedroom? If yes, where?

Mevolent's throne is a favourite, after the throne room has cleared out. Usually it's Vile getting in his lap after all his audiences are done and the throne room has cleared out. Occasionally, if he's feeling particularly sentimental, Mevolent will let Vile try the throne out and go down on him while he's sitting in it, his own version of all the sorcerers who bend the knee to him. It's his way of pointing out his feelings - pretty much everyone in the world kneels to Mevolent, but he only kneels to two things: his gods, and his lover. They're not great at expressing their feelings, so giving Vile that power trip is one of the ways he says I love you.

Once they're able to be together publicly, Mevolent's favourite is getting Vile alone on a balcony or in an empty hallway behind some columns somewhere for a fumble during a party - anywhere he can get the thrill of "we might get caught" with the certainty that they probably won't. He likes the thought that they might be seen, but he also knows he needs to mind his reputation, so he prefers knowing that the chances are very small.

Are they affectionate during sex?

When it's the sappy romo kind, they are; they're worldbreakers in the eyes of most, but to each other they're just Mevolent and Vile, they're like any other couple. They laugh and bicker and make out and leave possessive little marks on each other and playfight. No one looking at them would think of either of them being capable of that kind of softness. Vile also has a praise kink like woah so Mevolent lavishes him with it. But when they're really going at it it's all teeth and nails and they leave the cuddliness for later.

#skulduggery pleasant #not osha compliant #violent #here be smut #ye be warned #dumps my crackships unapologetically into the tag #sp headcanons

[maaaaaatryoshka0325]

Den Of Sins - Part 3

Lee Know

Requested 💕

Theme: lingerie

Description: Welcome to Den Of Sin’s, a fast rising modeling agency. You get offered the job, but your boss informs you that you need to keep your body in tip top shape, and tells you you’ll have five different body trainers to teach you. During these “trainings” you learn where the company gets its name from.

Workout: Yoga

Warnings: sex toys, degradation, organs denial, choking, spanking, bratty reader, overstimulation, this shit is FILTHY, a whole lot of SIN, Minho is the dom of my dreams

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 4) (Part 5)

Your eyes ran up and down your form, the red and black laced lingerie on your body suited every curve you had. Goosebumps were on your skin, the theme today being lingerie. You looked at your form again, Felix’s voice still ringing in your ears:

“You won’t have any of us submit to you, and good luck with the next trainer.”

Good luck? You might just need it with today’s theme. Your stylist came into the room, a big smile on her face as she looked you up and down.

“Oh, Minho is going to have a blast with you.” She said with a big smile.

“Minho?” You asked.

“Okay, I know I said Felix and Jisung were attractive, but Minho is drop dead GORGEOUS. I think he’ll give you a good workout.” She said with a wink, putting a red satin robe around you.

She did you hair, getting it bone straight. She highlighted your cheeks and lined your eyes with red and black make up to match your lingerie. She played with your hair for a moment, fluffing it up and smiling at you.

“Beautiful.” She cooed, beckoning you to follow her.

You walked closely behind her, anticipation filling your body. She led you to the last door, a smile on her face as she looked at you.

“Good luck.” She said, walking away.

You watched her go and gulped, as this was the second person to tell you good luck. You slowly opened the door to see a giant, red, hear shaped bed. It had rose petals around it, and candles were lit everywhere. Your eyes scanned the room, seeing a bunch of sex toys, whips, blindfolds, and pretty much anything else you could find in a Fifty Shades of Gray movie.

“Like what you see?” You jumped and whipped around, you face almost hitting someone else’s chest.

You looked up at him, your breath almost being taken away. Your stylist was right, this man was drop dead gorgeous. He had a sharp nose, sharp eyes, and an beautiful face.

“You must be Y/N.” He said, his voice silky.

“O-Oh yes, nice to meet you.” You stammered out, bowing to him. “You must be Minho.”

“I am.” He said with a handsome smile.

“Let’s get into positions everyone.” The photographer called.

Minho began to open his robe, and you followers suit. Your cheeks turned red as you stole a glance at him. He had smooth skin silky skin, his stomach was ripped, and his chest was nicely toned. He had on black boxers with red lining at the tip to match yours, but what really got you, was the obvious bulge. He wasn’t hard, not yet, at least, but it was still pressed tightly to the thin material.

“Alright you two, inspire me.” The photographer called.

Minho pulled you in by your waist, his hand slipping inside the robe as he tilted your head up to his. The camera flashed as his lips were only an inch from your own. He moved your hand onto his bare chest, tilting your head over as he pressed his mouth to the crook of your neck. The camera flashed again.

“Now, drop the robes.” The photographer called. “And get on the bed.”

You both hung up your robes then went to the bed. You were about to position yourself on top of him, wanting a good shot like that. But his hands found your waist and brought you underneath him, his hand caressing your jaw, his lips close to yours. He was in between your legs, his bulged pressed against your heat. Your cheeks began to heat up as warmth began to pool in your stomach.

He grabbed your thigh and hoisted his up, pressing his lips to yours this time. You tangled your fingers in his hair as the camera flashed. When he pulled away, he nibbled on your ear, making you bite your lip. FLASH.

“I can see you’re having a little problem.” He purred in your ear.

He had noticed the wet patch between your legs, your things betraying you. You bit your lip and leaned into his ear.

“I see you also have a little problem.” You purred into his ear.

He flipped you so you were on his lap, his eyes looking up at you as the camera flashed again. He brought your lips down, connecting them as, once again, the camera flashed.

“My problem isn’t so little, Kitten.” He whispered against your lips.

Your cheeks flared up as you dug your fingers into your shoulders, his lips pressing to your bare shoulder as another flash filled your vision with white. The photographer finally put his camera down, a huge smile on his face.

“Well done my loves.” He said, kissing both of your cheeks. “Have a good workout. Try not to over do it.”

You watched him walk out as Minho walked up behind you, his fingers brushing your hair off your bare shoulder.

“Shall we get started?” He asked.

“We should probably get dressed and head to the gym.” You said.

He chuckled, his eyes dark.

“Yoga doesn’t need a gym.” He purred.

Yoga?

He pulled a mat out from the closet in the room and laid it down, a small smirk on his face as he patted it, indicating for you to lay down.

You followed his instructions, but before you could lay down, he slipped you on to your hands and knees.

“Downward doggy is the first position.” He said.

He hand ghosted up your legs, making your legs stand tall while your lower half was downward. The way his hand came up and grazed your core had you shivering, his touches feather light.

“Now stretch.” He instructed.

You did the stretch, feeling it in your hamstrings. He kept you in that position for a bit, his eyes taking over your form.

“You can rest a moment.” He said.

You nodded and sat on your knees, watching him as he seemed to be thinking.

“Back on all fours. Spread your feet apart.” He said. “Lower your head.

You nodded and did as he said. You felt his hand gently slide to your abdomen, pushing it up as he slid his hand under your chin to push that up too.

“Repeat those movements.” He instructed.

You nodded and continued to the movements. You could feel it in your spine, extending the spinal cord. Minho watched you, his dark eyes looking at every curve in your body.

“You may rest.” He said.

You sat back on your knees once again, eyes searching his face. He wasn’t looking at you as he thought, his dark eyes seemingly else where.

“Next is the knees, chest, and chin.”

Your muscles burned after the fifteenth yoga pose, and you were starting to get desperate with the way his touches were always feather light.

“Next is the low lunge.” He said, turning to you.

You stayed in your position, almost pouting, and shaking your head.

“My muscles burn.” You said.

“They’re supposed too. Now get in position.” He ordered.

“No.” You huffed.

“I’m sorry what,”He asked, gripping your chin tightly. “Was that?”

“I-I said no.” You stuttered out, your eyes locked with his.

You couldn’t look away from his eyes. They were piercing daggers at the moment, angry and dominating.

“You think you can tell me no, Kitten? Do you know whose in charge here?” He asked.

The smell of his cologne and the candles had your heat begging for him. Your eyes were trained on him as he smirked down at you.

“Oh, so you need to be reminded huh? Get in the bed.” He demanded.

You luckily got up on the bed, the silt robe feeling too hot all of a sudden.

“Take the robe off.” He growled.

You slowly slipped the robe off your body, your lingerie on full display. He smirked as he walked over to you, tapping your cheek with his finger tips.

“So now you want to listen? When you’re getting your way, huh?” He asked with a chuckle.

His fingers that were tapping your cheek went lower, and you gasped as you felt his hand around your throat.

“I love brats like you. You know why?” He cooed.

You looked up at him, eyes wide and blown out. He leaned foreword, his teeth gently pulling on your earlobe before his lips came to your ear.

“Because I love to rip the submission right out of them.” He growled.

He let go of your throat harshly as he stepped away from the bed and towards a closet. He reached in and grabbed a box, bringing it over to the bed. He patted the edge of the bed, his eyes narrowed.

“Right here. And stay on your knees.” He ordered.

You remained there, a small smirk on your face. You wanted to see how riled up you can get him. His eyes darkened as he let out a laugh through his nose.

“You still want to disobey? Listen Kitten, it won’t end well for you.” He growled.

When you still wouldn’t move, he reached over and gripped the roots of your hair, turning your head and bringing your neck open for his view.

“I’ll make you obey.” He growled.

You felt something being attached to your neck, and noticed it was a chain collar. The leash was in his hand, a smirk on his face as he back away and stood at the foot of the bed.

“Now come here.” He said.

When you didn’t move, he pulled the leash, and the chain collar tightened around your throat. You gasped as you were lurched foreword. He chuckled, his eyes daring as he looked at you.

“I said, come here.” He purred.

You finally went to the edge of the bed, sitting on your knees. He stretched his hand out and held your chin, rubbing your jaw with his thumb.

“That’s a good girl.” He purred. “But unfortunately, I had to rip the good out of you. So I hope you prepared yourself for this.”

He kept a tight hold on the leash, the collar thightening slightly around your throat as he grabbed something. You watched him pull out a blindfold and smirk as he wrapped it around your eyes.

“Stay in that position.” He growled.

You stayed there as he rummaged around for something, until he made a noise of interest and lifted something out of the box. Your body shivered with anticipation, until you felt something being wrapped around your head, and a mouth piece being shoved in your mouth, holding it open.

“You think being a brat is getting you what you want princess? Think again.” He growled, gripping your hair.

His lips hit yours, passionate and dominant. The kiss wasn’t messy, but it was rough. His lips and tongue knew how to win over yours, and they did so without getting sloppy. He let go of your hair roughly and stepped away, dropping his robe and pulling his boxers down, his length hitting his stomach. You flinched at the sound, knowing what it was, the blindfold now allowing you to see it. You felt something rub your bottom lip, drool slightly dripping from your open mouth.

“Be a good girl.” He purred, before you felt his length slide down your throat.

You choked a bit a he began to slide himself in and out of your throat, the open mouth gag holding it open for him. You choked and whimpered around his length, saliva dripping down your chin. Tears wet the blind fold as he thrusted into your mouth.

“Good girl.” He rasped as he stroked your hair, rolling his head back as his hips began to speed up.

He removed the blind fold, his eyes smarkling as he saw some of your mascara under your eyes, your own eyes glass with tears as you watched him thrust into your mouth. He grabbed the side of your head and pushed himself all the way down your throat, his pelvic bone being pressed against your nose. He roughly pulled out and you choked, saliva dripping from your chin, onto your chest. He unbuckled the gag and smirked at you as he tapped his length against your lips.

And he was right, his problem wasn’t so little. He had the absolute most perfect length. It was longer than both Jisung’s and Felix’s, and it held more girth than the both of them. He pressed it to your lips again and you pulled away stubbornly, earning a tsk from him. He pinched your nose so you had to open your mouth to breath, and when you did, he slid his length into your mouth.

“It’s cute when you think being a brat is gonna make me want to pleasure you too.” He rasped through gritted teeth as he thrusted into your mouth harshly, his length hitting down your throat.

You were a whimpering mess, trying to rub your thighs together. You felt his thighs tense and warmth fill the back of your throat as you swallowed around him. He pulled his length out and you gasped, finally being able to breathe properly.

“You’ve got a nice mouth there Kitten. I think you deserve some relief.” He chuckled, noticing you trying to rub your thighs together. “Turn around.”

You turned around, excitement filling you, finally getting what you wanted. However, you were thrown from that idea as he bound your hand behind your back. You looked back at him and he smirked, flipping you back over. Your eyes widened when he pulled out a spreader bar with little ankle cuffs. He attached them to your ankles, your pussy on full display for him.

“That quite a pretty pussy, Kitten.” He purred.

You were about to respond when he grabbed a mouth gag with a small ball and smirked at you.

“If you can take what I give you without a sound or complaint, I’ll fuck you and let you cum. I’m letting you off easy, really. Instead of giving you nothing to bite on, I’ll let you use this gag.” He cooed, attaching it to your head, along with the blind fold.

You kept your mouth around the gag as he settled himself between your spreaded legs, his eyes looking at your glistening heat. He reached into the box and pulled something out. You felt irritated that he had blind folded you again, when you heard something buzzing.

Your body jolted as it was pressed to your clit, rubbing it up and down.

“How does that feel, Kitten?” Minho asked with a smirk.

You let out a whimper as he attached it to your clit, the setting just enough to have you seeing stars, but not enough for your to orgasm.

“I’ll let that sound go this time Kitten, but you have to keep quiet.” He ordered.

You bit tightly around the ball as the vibrater remained attached to your clit, your aching heat dripping into the bed. You heard another vibration and almost shrieked when you felt another vibrater against the tip of your clit. Your fingers dug into the silk cuffs holding your hands together, tears brimming your eyes as you began to drip all over the bed.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He asked, his voice honey smooth.

You nodded frantically, trying to keep your whimpers in. He attached the other to your clit and reached for something else. You felt him flip you over, your ass in the air, cheek on the bed, arms still tied behind your back. You could feel your own arousal leaking down your legs, the air making it cold. You wiggled your butt impatiently, earning a harsh slap. You bit down hard on the ball gag as another landed on the same cheek, harder.

“You really are a fucking brat.” He growled, landing another slap to the same spot.

Tears filled your eyes at the stinging pain. You sat still for a moment as a hand gently rubbed over the skin.

“Now listen me, hm? I’ll give you what you want when you listen.” He purred. “Be a good little slut for me.”

You nodded into the mattress, when you felt something pushing against your entrance. It slipped inside of you and you keened, your teeth leaving marks in the ball gag. It was too short to be his length, and you realized it must’ve been a dildo. You closed your eyes tightly and grit your teeth as he began to thrust it in and out of you.

“You really are a slut, hm? Your pussy is eating this dildo like it’s the last fuck it’ll ever have.” He cooed.

You tried not to make a sound at his words, burying your face into the mattress. You were dripping all over the bed, your legs shaking as the vibrater stayed attached to you, the dildo working your insides. Just as you were about to cum, he ripped it from you, a string of your arousal attached to it.

“You’re soaked Kitten, dripping everywhere.” He chuckled, watching your pussy clench around nothing.

“Please.” You whined.

“Please what?” He asked, bending over your shaking form and kissing your bare shoulder.

“Please let me cum- please fuck me Minho.” You begged.

“Not so much of a brat now, huh?” He asked.

You whined at his words and he chuckled, kissing down your back. You gasped as the vibraters went faster, as he clicked a higher setting. You felt the dildo glide past your folds and start to pump in and out of you. Your cries filled the room as your legs shook, and you came with a loud moan. You whimpered as the vibraters stayed attached to your clit, Minho’s hand still working the dildo into your clenching heat.

“M-Minho.” You whined.

“Hm?” He asked.

“Please.” You whined.

“Beg for it. Beg for it like the slut you are.” He purred, pulling the toy from your heat.

“Please fuck me Minho. Please fuck me with your big dick and fill me with your cum.” You whimpered.

You let out a loud moan as the vibraters went faster, going to the highest setting. You felt Minho’s tip at your entrance, poking at it, teasing you still. You let out a whine, that was cut off with a high pitched squeal as he shoved himself up to the hilt inside of you. He immiediatly pulled out to just the tip and slammed back in, his hips smacking off of your ass.

Your whole body shook as his legnth brushed your gspot, the tip hitting your cervix at the angle. Your loud moans filled the room, the gag no longer keeping you quiet. Wet slapping sounds filled your ears every time his length filled you, pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm. You could feel your arousal coating Minho’s pelvis and your thighs, your whole lower half covered in it.

“You’re a real slut, you know that Y/N?” He asked through gritted teeth. “I’ve never seen a pussy this wet, making such a mess.”

You whined at his words, when his hand gripped your hair and arched your back, a shriek leaving your lips as his tip slammed directly into your cervix, the deepest anyone has been in you.

“Are you a slut, Y/N?” He asked, his hips still, his tip still pushing up against your cervix.

You shook your head, a whimper leaving your mouth. You could feel your saliva dripping down from your mouth and the gag, the gag marked from your teeth digging into it. You whimpered loudly as he slapped your ass, grabbing it right after.

“No?” He asked. “Then why are you dripping all over, hm? Why is your pussy begging for me?”

You remained silent at his words and he smirked, pulling out the slightest bit and slamming back into your cervix. You cried out and dug your nails into the silk cuffs.

“Are you a slut Y/N?” He asked, slowly dragging his hips back and shoving his length back into you the same way he did.

You tried to cry out a response, but the ball gag had you choking. Minho graciously reached over and pulled it off of your face as you cried out.

“Yes! I’m a slut Minho! Please, please let me cum again.” You rasped.

“That’s a good girl.” He purred, grabbing the leash that was still attached to the collar and tugging on it.

The pressure around your throat, the vibraters, and Minho’s dick so deep into you had you screaming as you tightened around him and came, your whole body shaking. Minho’s hips stuttered slightly at the feeling of your clenching, before picking up the pace and slamming into you.

Your stomach churned at the overstimulation, your eyes pooling with tears as it hurt and felt so good at the same time. You felt Minho pull at the leash, pulling you up till your back met his chest, his one hand wrapped up in the least, the other on your hip as he brought your hips back against his own. He latched his mouth to your neck, sucking harshly as his length abused your G-spot.

“You’re such a good Kitten, taking over stimulation like it’s nothing.” He purred.

“G-Good for you, M-Minho.” You whimpered out, lost in the feeling of his lips sucking purple and red marks onto your skin, and his length pushing deep inside of you with the vibraters on your clit.

Your thighs tensed and your toes curled as you hit another high, your whole body turning to jelly as you dropped, despite the chain tightening harshly around your throat. You started to squirm and squeal as the vibraters became too much with the feeling of Minho so deep inside of you. You felt him pull out, grabbing the remote and turning one off, and the other on a lower level. He pulled the one he turned off off of you, tossing it to the side. He undid the spreader bars and leaned over you, lifting your legs over his shoulders.

“Take one more Kitten.” He said, kissing your lips.

Your eyes rolled back as he slipped back into you, his length pushing against every sweet spot you had. His hands held your hips as he pounded into you, your back arching to take him deeper.

“That’s a good girl.” He rasped, snapping his hips into yours.

Your eyes began to roll back, choked moans leaving your lips as your back arched further. He attached his lips to your neck as his hips rolled into yours. You could feel your arousal on his hips, on the bed, everywhere. The vibrater remained buzzing on your clit as his legnth plummeted in and out of you, soaked and dripping in your essence. You felt his finger press against the vibrater, putting pressure on it. You cried out and came with a choke scream of his name, incoherences leaving your lips as you squirmed and squealed underneath of him, your toes curled and cramping.

Minho let out a raspy moan as he came inside of you, his fingers digging harshly into your hips, bruises forming on the skin. You both panted as Minho dropped on top of you, his face in the crook of your neck. You both laid like that for a moment, panting loudly. He watched your chest heave and gave a low chuckle as he pushed himself up with his elbows and kisses the red and purples marks he had created on your neck. You whimpered as the vibrater was still on, and he quickly turned it off and slowly pulled out of you. You gave a content sigh as you felt both empty and full.

He watched his cum leak out of you, a small smirk on his lips.

“Good thing those candles are lit. Even with them, I can still smell the sex in here.” He chuckled hoarsely.

You let out a tired laugh as he grabbed the robes and you shoved him off.

“You can go, I need a minute.” You rasped.

He got on the bed with you, laying the robes on the wet spots and smiling at you. You looked at him curiously as he pulled the covers and brought them over you, before sliding in beside you.

“No one needs this room, and it seems we both need a minute.” He said with a shrug.

You smiled as you nuzzled your face into his chest, his smooth skin smelling like his cologne.

“You don’t come off as the cuddling type.” You laughed.

He stroked your hair and chuckled.

“My duality can be amazing.” He said.

Your eyes began to close, and by the way your body felt, you knew you wouldn’t be able to walk for a few days. You fell asleep on his chest, his fingers still threading through your hair.

“Sleep well Y/N.” Minho purred. “You’re gonna need it with the next two.”

#stray kids #straykids #kpop #straykidznet #kpop imagines #kpop smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids minho smut #stray kids lee know smut #lee know smut #lee minho smut #minho smut #skz lee know smut #stray kids minho #stray kids lee know #skz lee know #lee know #lee minho #skz minho

[valkyrieofsmut]

The boys and mc high school/college au go!

Ooooh, college au! It took forever for for me to get this all typed out and decided. Ok… so…

Classic- Classic is the one chilling around in the study/ tutoring circle, kicked back, seeming like he’s asleep and somehow not falling or tipping from the chair that’s only on two legs, getting credit for being there, but not participating... That is, until someone says something so incredibly stupid with such confidence, insisting that they’re right, and anyone who thinks differently is stupid, that he can’t help but cut in, laughing loudly and looking up. “ya really think that’s how it works? you’re gonna make these poor kids fail their tests if they believe ya!” He then proceeds to school them, the other people taking notes so they can pass their classes- no one’s ever been able to explain quantum physics so understandably before!! How he met MC? He met them when he started going to the study/ tutoring circle because it was an easy credit- a credit that he’s already earned by now, and can’t duplicate. One day he’ll be able to play it cool enough without his soul trying to beat out of his ribcage to ask if they want some one on one tutoring, since they’re there for the help, not the credit.

Creampuff- He is the sweetest boy around! Somehow, even on a campus this big, everyone knows who he is. He doesn’t stay inside the normal clique circles, either, being friends with everyone! “FRIEND GROUPS SHOULD INCLUDE EVERYONE YOU’RE FRIENDS WITH, AND I WANT TO BE FRIENDS WITH EVERYONE!” He’s Homecoming and Prom King, and takes any duties he has from the roles very seriously, fulfilling them all with the utmost passion. There isn’t a single person around that could hate him, and the teachers all love him as well. His grade point average is about an A- to B+ range. He’s not a genius, but he works hard and never shies away from extra credit and working hard to make it. He doesn’t seem to sleep? He is always doing something, working on some project for some class of club that he’s in, or spending time doing activities with friends... How he met MC? They were working on a project for a club that they were both in, and built a good friendship on their time spent together and the interactions they had there. They have lunch together in the cafeteria most days.

Red- He sits in the back of class, looking like the bad boy that no one wants to approach, but that also the one that people swoon over, giving out winks and smirks, flirting indiscriminately. He never does any work in class, and seems to never really care about it, but somehow- always gets amazing grades on tests...? And his grades in class aren’t anything to sneeze at, either, despite homework counting as a part of the grade...? The teachers like him because he really gets their subjects, and does really well, but he tries not to let anyone know, because, y’know... that bad boy image would be ruined... How he met MC? They had a class together, but MC was having trouble. Red sent every bit of flirting their way, but MC was having none of it. Finally, Red offered to help them with the homework, but MC told him they didn’t need to fail because Red wanted to flirt. “ah, sweetheart, y’re makin’ me feel bad- ya think i’d ever offer ta help if i didn’t know th’ answer? i don’t ever offer ta help anyone- y’re a special case. *wink*” He then taught them how to do the problem, telling them to pull up the answer online and check it while he kicked back. After finding out that MC liked the nerdier, actual “him”, side of him, he made it a habit to show it to them often, sitting next to them and explaining things through class, starting to ignore the rest of the people who usually flirted with him, liking the acceptance that MC gave him and how nice it felt to actually be himself.

Edge- Who knew that you still need gym credits in college?! Edge did, that’s for damn sure. He loves it because it helps him find a better way to deal with his frustration and anger. He also loves to untangle to puzzles that seem impossible. He’s seemingly on track to become a psychologist, a criminal detective, a lawyer, and an agent at some governmental agency that only has letters on their building... He tried to get into the medical field, but he can’t handle the disgusting nature of that science. He can handle things like gunshots, stab wounds, even road rash and compound fractures- but as soon as the body is cut open and he can see inside of it, he’s fighting not to faint. “IT’S NOT THAT I HAVE A WEAK STOMACH! IT’S ALL THAT- VISCERA! THERE’S SO MUCH OF IT AND SUCH WEIRD, UNNATURAL SEEMING COLORS! SHUT UP!” How he met MC? P.E. He has become known as one of the gods of P.E., and is often mistaken as a teacher. They were doing track and field activities, and MC was staring at him. When Edge demanded what they wanted and why they were staring at him, and MC answered by getting flustered and asking if he could show them how to do it that way, since he was so good at it, at it was amazing to see him do it! He gets all flushed and agrees, feeling flattered that they recognized his greatness.

Blue- He is on the Cheer squad, leader of the Pep squad, and leader of the track and field team! He is super athletic, and is very friendly with everyone! He ends the day with little energy from how much he does- people think that cheer and pep are just dancing around, but it’s hard work! There’s lots of flexibility training, and strength training, otherwise, they wouldn’t be able to do all the gymnastic type moves and lifting of whole other people they do! And then he has homework after all of that, and hanging out with his friends... But, luckily, he’s really smart- on most things. For everything else, there’s his brother, who he pesters to do homework with him as a way of learning, and getting him to do his own homework. How he met MC? During a pep rally, they did something with audience participation, Blue was picking the person that he’d be partnered with, and grabbed MC when he saw them. He was instantly enamored and at the end, he asked them for their number. He sits with them and Creampuff at lunch every day he doesn’t have to go to a practice at lunch time.

Stretch- He’s the guy chilling in the library, kicked up and napping behind the desk or reading, and the bookstore, kicked back behind the counter and napping or reading, and the student café, never with any food from the café, but either kicked back and napping or drinking honey. He’s never really seen in any classes except the one he PAs (professor’s assistant) for, and no one can really tell if he’s actually a student...? Except that he’s a PA, so... that means he has to be... right...? He comes into the class, points at the board and tells everyone to write it down, then turns on a prerecorded lecture or an educational video on the subject and chills at the professor’s desk, napping, drinking honey, or reading. How he met MC? MC went to pick up their books for their classes at the bookstore. He wasn’t even paying attention, reading some book, or something. When they brought up the book list, he didn’t even look at it, just told them what section was where. When they brought up their huge stack of books, he started ringing them up, but refused to sell them some of them without even looking at them. “ya don’t need that book. or that one. ya can get that one in the library. this one is garbage. yeah, i know the list has it on there, but ya don’t need it. ... what’s your major? yeah, ya don’t need that one...” MC left with about a fourth of the book list, and then, when they were able to go to the library to get the ones he’d said were there- he was there, too! MC was concerned that he was following them, but, he did work there, apparently... Halfway through the first semester, MC realized that Stretch saved them a bunch of money, and steered them right on all the unused books that had been added to the list.

Black- He’s the head of the ROTC (reserve officers training class). He wears his uniform every day, and, somehow, it’s always perfectly cleaned and pressed. He’s top of the sharp shooting team. Other students think that he’s a hard ass, or a recruitment officer... the few people he spends time with know how clever he is. He gets annoyed that the only people who get his sense of humor are his brother and some of the teachers. “YOU SEE, IT’S A JOKE ABOUT SCENT, BECAUSE MINT IS A SCENT, BUT ALSO, THE CHEMICAL COMPOUND FOR MINT IS THE MIRROR IMAGE OF THE CHEMICAL COMPOUND FOR DECAY, SO... FINE! YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR MY HUMOR, ANYWAY!” How he met MC? Black was ‘policing’ a party (making sure nothing got out of hand, no minors drank, as other students would say; no fun was had). MC was dragged there by a friend. They were doing their best to have fun, saw that everyone was avoiding Black, and walked up to where it looked like he was telling off a couple of people, but when they got closer they realized that he was telling a joke... if you could call that a joke...? Everyone listening just made confused face, MC, too, and when he started trying to explain the joke, everyone else just left. Black assumed that they’d be there to make fun of him, too, but when they asked him to repeat the explanation, and then the joke, even though they had to make sure what the punchline was supposed to be, they laughed. He looked stunned, but he fell in love when MC brushed off everyone else, telling him that they just weren’t smart enough to understand his joke, and too lazy to put in the work to understand it.

Mutt- He’s the one who everyone mistakes for goth. He’s not goth, he wears brown and orange, too, for stars sake... But apparently, wearing dark colors, regardless of the colors, along with having a lot of bone stuff, again, regardless of it being him, a skeleton, wearing a collar, and being a loner, who sits in the back and doesn’t appear to care about school or anything else, has put the label on him. He likes to not be surrounded by people, but... goth kids seem to flock to him...? He has no idea why... But, if he’s constantly getting lucky because some goths want to worship the symbol of death- he isn’t complaining. How he met MC? He’s one of their classes- not that they know. They’re too focused on actually learning and passing class, he’s in the back, snoozing and checking them out. They met him, because they were hanging out with Black. When he explained that they had a class together, MC was a bit confused, but after a minute, realized that they had seen his name on the roster. After that, Mutt sits next to them every day in class, flustering them beyond compare, and a bit confused why they haven’t decided to or accepted his offer to, jump his bones- nyeh heh. “bet i could get away with makin’ ya come in class. nyeh heh heh, aww, that look’s so cute on your face. so, what d’ya say? ready for me ta climb under the desk? naw, no one will find out. how d’i know? done it b’fore. never been caught, yet. nyeh heh heh.”

Axe- He’s the guy that was headed for greatness, somehow going to be top of his class and going to the highest ranking finishing college, for two separate fields- and then he had a burn out, and can’t be bothered to do much of anything. He almost seems like he doesn’t care about anything, anymore, including about if he ever graduates. His amazing double degree is long gone, and now his main hope of graduating is general studies. He works as a student janitor, and is usually hanging around in the halls, doing... something? He mostly sleeps through classes, and is a bit snappy to people who ask him questions, but those who he will actually spend time with know that he’s not so bad, under all the disillusionment. How he met MC? He mopped the floor, and had put a caution sign, not in the middle of the floor, but off to the side. MC was hurrying past and slid across the floor, and straight onto their ass with a yelp of pain. “heh. don’t ya watch where you’re going’? get inta too much of a rush, you’ll be dead before ya know it. heh heh.” When MC pulled themself up and brushed themself off, not even caring that he was chuckling at them, then joked about making an ass of themself, and not being sore about being the butt of the joke, he decided that they may deserve... more than the biting rudeness that he’d given at first, and will often see them walking around, always sparing a bit of conversation for them as he ‘just happens’ to be headed the same way.

Bun- He is in the Culinary classes and clubs, and in the gardening classes and clubs. He wants to be able to make his food from garden to table! He started a preserving club, and is the head of it, Axe is in it, too, but it has only a couple other members. He also took a place in the sewing arts club, and has made quilts and clothes that have won awards in the state and county fairs. He is surrounded by people in his clubs and classes who adore him. He was shy about his towering stature, thick glasses, and braces when he first came to the school, but the way his clubmates flocked to him when they got to know him made him realize that there’s nothing to be nervous about. How he met MC?  He was out gardening, with the gardening club, when one of MC’s folders had fallen from their hands onto the ground, thus sending papers flying in the breeze. One flew right to him and hit him in the face. He pulled it down to see MC running up to him, begging him to hold it. He did, standing when they arrived, watching the look on their face get more and more surprised the more he stood. “Here’s Your Paper. I Didn’t Mean To Scare You Or Anything... Oh- I- I Didn’t? A- A Hug- Just Because I’m Taller Than You...? O-OK!”

Dusty- He’s the one that is always called to the dean’s office when anything happens. He’s usually in the counseling office or dean’s office, but he is just as often in the computer lab or hidden in the library. It’s not that he has any reason to be in those places, but he likes to be away from people, and those are the places that people come the least. He was doing amazingly well in his major, but then tragedy struck and his brother died... He blames himself, and can’t get past his guilt. His teachers and counselor want him to get help, but he stubbornly refuses, insisting that he’s ok. He doesn’t even like spending a lot of time with his “cousins”, since a few of them remind him too much of his brother. How he met MC? He was sitting in the back of the library, just so happening to be in front of a book MC needed to get. The fact that MC sat down next to him, not just leaving and avoiding him, while even his own cousins would do that, made him more defensive. But, the way that they just sat there, filling the silence, talking about everything and nothing, refusing to leave him there alone, forced him to think that maybe- maybe there was still some good out there...

MC- MC is a normal student, who ran across all of the skeleton boys. They were good in some things, not so much in others, but their good nature and friendliness drew the skeletons to them- as well as the soul compatibility. Their ability to distance themself from others’ actions and take some teasing and jokes at their expense in stride really made some of the more difficult skeletons take notice. With the boys- They were glad when Classic finally managed to ask if they wanted private tutoring- they did, they needed more help than the adhd scatter of the study group. They love seeing Creampuff every day that he comes to lunch, because he’s such a ray of sunshine! When MC finally realizes that Red has stopped flirting with anyone but them, they actually say yes to going on a date with him, and have a great time. They are so glad to have Edge in their gym class, and hope that they stay in the same gym class all through college; it’s amazing to watch him exorcise, like a statue of the perfect Olympian come to life. They had no idea that Blue was interested in them when they met, and text him every day, though they do have more of an understanding on their interest in each other. MC was very irritated with Stretch in the beginning, but after the experience with books that first semester, they always go to him when a new book list comes out to make sure that they have only the books that they need and none of the extra bullshit. Despite Black having to explain most of his jokes, MC likes hanging out with him, and feels like it makes them smarter while they’re doing it, since he’s always explaining stuff! Mutt is a crazy thing they’ve got to live through at first, but then, when he relaxes back and chills out a bit, is fun to learn how to flirt with, and he’s only too glad to teach them. Axe really appeals to MC’s dark humor side, and they love trading jokes with him on the way to classes. They hope he manages to regain determination soon, and get his plans back together. MC thinks that Bun is the sweetest person around, anywhere! And loves spending time with him whenever they can. When MC found Dusty, they were concerned that if they left him there, he was going to commit suicide, so they just- didn’t leave. If staying there and showing interest, or even just making it so that the quiet didn’t fill his skull with the troubled thought that would lead him that way, it was easy to do.

Ask Masterlist?

[confusedgoldenflower]

There is No Glorious Purpose Chap. 2

Hello, you beautiful Tesseract-loving bastards!

I've been meaning for a long time to update but I've been having a really bad time with the whole motivation thing, and what I had first thought of doing with this fic got thrown in a wood-chipper and sunk with the Titanic... so, I'm trying to pick up the pieces and decide where I want to go with this. I also wanted to do it episodically: Chapter One aligned with Episode One and so on. That has not worked partly due to the issues of the above so, well, I guess we'll find out together!

So sorry for any grammar issues, I did my best to look it over but got too sick of staring at it over and over again in my drafts.

Small Thor cameo!

Chapter Two: You Oafs

“Yeah, well, you’re a mischievous scamp--or at least, the other you is. Been killing our minutemen and stealing our reset charges. Been happening for quite a long time….” Mobius whistled lowly. Loki nodded slowly.

“If you know me or us as well as you say, what need have you of my help?”

“Like I said, mischievous scamp. And I know what makes a Loki tick, sure, but even Sherlock needed Watson sometimes--you do know about them, right? Really fun stories with a super smart detective and his below average side-kick--.”

Loki ignored the rambling, “I agree.” Perhaps then… after… peace? “Just tell me, please… is it true that I directly led to my mother’s death?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, definitely. Thor was pissed and then he dragged you along to Svart--Svartle… anyway, the planet of the Dark Elves with Jane because she absorbed the Aether. Then you faked your death, again . There’s that ‘doing a horrible thing then getting away,’ again. But Thor totally gets you back on Sakaar with those Obedience Disks. Yeah, yeah… oh, right, you don’t know--and won’t. He slaps one of ‘em on you when you betray him again, then dials it up all the way while he returns to Asguard. For a god, you get put down a lot .” Mobius chuckled.

Loki sucked in a shuddering breath, reverently laid the Tesseract down and stood, “let us catch this scoundrel then.” He faked a smile for the agent.

“Ok,” Mobius clapped and rubbed his hands together, “what a therapy session!”

Loki had a fleeting thought of, “he must be some Midguardian fool, possibly in some relation to Thor,” before he remembered that the all powerful Time Keepers had created the oaf in front of him.

“Ya know, for the record, maybe ‘undying fidelity,’ wasn’t the right thing to say to Thanos. Just saying. But this is good! We’re gonna be a great team.”

~~~@%*^*%@~~~

“Loki,” the orange clock whined on his ‘gifted’ desk. Though still somewhat transparent, Miss Minutes was a fairly good illusion.

“Yes?” He replied pleasantly, blue hand turning the page of a magazine. His slack-clad legs were propped on the desk, fine business shoes not too far from where she stood on a rather large book. The suit replacement of the prison wear wasn’t bad, he, of course, would have done better had he access to his seidr. But it was fine for the time being.

“Are you paying attention?” The angry little clock motioned to the old Midguardian computer screen which read in that same horrible orange color:

LET’S SEE WHAT YA KNOW!

Q2. Thanos has two apples. He eats both but realizes he wants more. He goes back in time 20 minutes and eats the apples again. Does this mean the apples will not have existed in the timeline he left?

No, because time is constantly happening

The question doesn’t matter because a branch cannot change another time branch

Thanos would’ve been hungry prior because the Grandfather paradox already accounted for the change in matter before it’s move.

TVA FILE EDIT VIEW MODE HELP

Of course he was paying attention, and of course he chose not to amuse them! One order after another; feeding off of each other even. He may have bowed to Thanos but he had never kneeled. Not truly. And he clung to that remaining dignity.

“Naturally,” he returned pleasantly. She sighed.

“What happens when a nexus event branches past red line?”

“Ragnarok.”

“Come on, Loki. What is it?... Loki!”

“It is when the TVA can no longer reset a nexus event. Are you satisfied?’

“Right. And that would lead to the destruction of the timeline and the collapse of reality as we know it.” He lowered the magazine lower into his lap and took his feet off the desk.

“Yes, indeed. Are you alive or a recording? Clearly, you can hear me.”

Her big cartoonish eyes moved around, “uh… sorta both?”

“So not an illusion or projection?” He swiped at her with the rolled up magazine.

“Ah!” A small smirk ghosted his face and he went after her again.

“Watch it! Where are your manners? Oh! Hey! Quit it! That is not nice, ya jerk!” She floated and then fazed back into the computer. He gave that ugly thing a few whacks as well. She pouted on the other side of the screen.

“Trainin’ going wel--is that my jet ski magazine? Put it down, Blue-Raz.” Mobius ripped the magazine from him, swivelled to his desk then swiveled again to flop a jacket in front of Loki.

“Gear up, there’s been an attack. Let’s go.” The agent commanded. Loki picked up the jacket. It unfolded from the collar, back facing him. “VARIANT” was emblazoned across it.

“Ah,” was all he commented as he moved to slip it on before his handler got any ideas while he was led down hallways. Norns knew the agent would have plenty of examples in his own life up to that point, much less his future or other variants.

“Good. Yeah. Smart.” Mobius commented with his fists in a move reminiscent of excited warriors as said human stopped to look back at his charge and the newly bestowed article of clothing. B-15 gave her usual droll stare. Her minutemen stood around her in a group.

“ C-20 and her team went dark shortly after they jumped into the 1985 branch. All signs point to another ambush. We've grabbed enough temporal aura to know it's our Loki Variant.”

The “actually dangerous” sort, Loki groused silently. Then Mobius opened his mouth.

“Here's the deal. When we get out on the branch, we're not just looking for a Time Criminal. We're looking for a Loki. A variation of this guy. A type we should all be very familiar with, because the TVA has pruned a lotta these guys, almost more than any other Variant. And no two are alike. Slight differences in appearances, or not so slight. Different powers, although, powers generally include shape-shifting, illusion-projection, and my favorite... Duplication-casting. Illusion-Projection.”

Mobius gestured to him when applicable in his little speech, also projecting other variations of Loki with his TemPad--all assumedly pruned likewise. Variation 8: L6792 looked exactly like he would now had he’d been afforded the luxury of keeping his clothes, but also with slight differences that led Loki to think that that variant must have been favored royally in some way he was rejected.

Variation 8: L1247 looked like a Midguardian sportsman happily holding a trophy of some kind. Variation 8: L6792 was an atrocity of him and the Hulk combined. Variation 8: L8914 was more strongly built with more prominent hair curls in their longer hair. They stood like dignitary with their hands behind them. Variation 8: L7803 looked like an oaf. A full, half-face helmet emblazoned with the horns in the wrong direction and even a piece of turf over the shoulder like a cape. Oh, dear….

“No.”

“...Huh?”

“Those two powers are completely different, although, I am unsurprised you cannot comprehend it.”

“Loki, what are you talking about--look, I’ve dealt with more of you than you’ve dealt with yourself.”

“The truth remains that those powers are not the same.”

“Then, please, Loki, tell me.”

Loki smiled easily and supplicatingly at the contempt and patronization, just like talking to anyone in Asguard.

“ Illusion-projection involves depicting a detailed image from outside oneself, which is perceptible in the external world, whereas duplication-casting entails recreating an exact facsimile of one's own body in its present circumstance, which acts as a true holographic mirror of its molecular structure.”

“Ok, take a breath. Noted. We’re gonna break into two teams, including myself and Professor Loki here”

B-15 still looked unamused and dubious.

“Whoever the Variant is, we haven’t been able to find them so I’m the Sherlock and he’s my Watson. Look, this’ll work.” Mobius said to her. She side-eyed Loki, Loki who had nothing but a branded jacket to protect himself with.

“And so my agency in this is to… tell you how brilliant you are.”

“Go outside, maybe touch some grass.” Mobius returned with a tilted smile under his twisted nose.

“Ah. I shall protect myself with your wit, then, should this superior being choose me as a next target.”

Mobius chuckled and mimed “talky-talky” again.

He passed through the portal B-15 had summoned, closed in on both ends by TVA agents. Immediately, he could feel his seidr swell within him again and redonned his Aesir glamor. The choker chafed as he glanced around, and he found himself much preferring the biting metal of the chains he was usually imprisoned in. The place they passed into was a celebration of old Midguardian times, further back than what the TVA modeled itself after, in direct juxtaposition of the modern technology with the humans held in their hands, and had used to both get to the location and create their sometimes elaborate costumes.

“Apex of nexus signature located, ma'am,” a minuteman said as they walked.

“Allow me to ask you this, why do we not travel to the moments prior to the Variant’s attack, to when they arrive.” Loki asked as the tent grew ever nearer.

“Nexus events destabilize the time flow. This branch is still changing and growing, so you gotta show up in real time. Did you watch any of the training videos you were supposed to?”

The minutemen twisted their batons, the ends glowing a shade that seemed to haunt the TVA as they neared.

Loki chuckled a laugh that was never and would never be heartfelt, “my dear Sherlock, you should know I am quite the scholar. But these ‘reset charges,’ they ‘prune’ a branched timeline which ‘allows time to heal all wounds.’”

Mobius made an odd gesture towards him, “he’s on it.”

Within the dark, torch-lit tent, limp minutemen laid about the displays which held real weapons and a large, stepped seating construct. Their bodies were splayed out in obvious struggle. Unactivated batons laid around as well, a few clenched in hands. A helmet bearing “C-20” laid, discarded within the scene. Loki hovered a hand over one display as he passed and they grouped around the scene.

“So he's taking hostages now?” B-15 spat.

“The Variant's never taken a hostage before,” Mobus returned.

“Maybe he's upping his game.”

“Or he pruned her,” a minuteman remarked.

“A Loki couldn't have gotten the jump on C-20.” B-15 returned.

“Fan out and search for her. And hurry up, we're at three units until red line.” B-15 ordered, her minutemen immediately moving to obey.

“Let's go. She's right.” A peon echoed.

Mobius concurred, “Come on.”

“Wait….” Loki said, brow knit as he studied the scene.

“What do you see?” Mobius asked as he stepped away from the entrance.

“I see wolf’s teeth.”

“Yeah, ok,” Mobius motioned for him to hurry and Loki got brief satisfaction that the human had no idea what he was talking about.

“‘Where there are wolf’s ears, there are wolf’s teeth,’” Loki echoed one of many sayings he heard during his childhood, especially before bed. He swallowed down the thought of a certain story about blue, darkly lined and vicious monsters.

“Ridiculous, really,” he laughed hallowly, “my people are gullible fools by nature. You remind me of them; the Time Variance Authority and the great gods of Asgard. One and the same. Drunk with power, blinded to the truth. Those you underestimate will devour you, and we’ve just walked into a wolf’s mouth.” He raked his eyes across his audience as he spoke, kneeling down in front of the helmet and stroking his hand in the grassy turf. The minutemen seemed to falter ever so slightly, B-15 rolled her eyes, and Mobius stared.

A TemPad beeped, “two units, he’s wasting our time.”

“No, step outside this tent and my other Variant will devour you,” Loki stated plainly. It was easy, nearly in a terrifying way, how he fell into the usual routine he had had with his oaf of a brother and his lackeys, who, similarly, never headed his words.

“We need to look for C-20.” B-15 repeated.

“Come on, Loki, we don’t have time for your lies.”

“Oh, I am not lying, and out of curiosity, when you find them, will you prune us both seeing as you will not have any need of me?”

Mobius sighed and gesticulated like a frustrated middle-aged Midguardian, “he’s lying.”

Loki’s head turned to the side minutely, in a ghost of a head shake. His stomach turned the way it usually did when he knew things were about to--.

“Aghr!” A minuteman had exited and had been consequently slaughtered. A brawl broke out just outside the small entrance. Innocent event-goers made exclamations outside as well. Batons revved, and B-15 and Mobius stalked to the opening. Loki walked behind them.

“The charge!” Someone yelled. The fight continued. A cloaked figure with amazing skill in combat fought them all while a crowd of civilians formed around them. There were a few smiles and jeers, no doubt thinking it was all a show.

“On behalf of t-... the Time Va-...Variance Authority, I hereby-... arrest you for-... for crimes against the… Sacred Timeline, V-… Variant!” B-15 huffed between blows.

“Ergh!” A minuteman got pruned. Loki’s cloaked variant said nothing, only continued fighting. He backed back into the tent, took aloft a jousting lance, broke it half and reemerged. For all their combined ability, the TVA was losing. The glow of pruning swung around arbitrarily. He dipped into the fight and caught his counterpart’s cutlass in the cross the two ends of the lance made.

“Pardon me, I mean no intrusion,” he said calmly to his other self, noticing a similar collar of metal that had adorned his own garments. He could feel the other’s tension as they reclaimed their sword and focused solely on him. It proved more of a poor decision than anticipated and he found himself holding his breath in pain more than he’d wanted. The wood was also useless and even though both it and he put up a valiant fight, his other self had taken hold of a baton along the line. His weapons were useless as they continued to share blows. He lowered the stubs of wood and opened his arms. The glowing end came close.

Then it wasn’t.

The grunting that followed was B-15 and Mobius disarming the variant of the baton and nearly restraining them.

“About to redline!” A remaining minuteman nearly yelled. B-15 and Mobius shared a look. A door was opened and Loki found the cloaked figure disappearing into a flurry of gold.

“What in the Rolling Stones was that, Blue-Raz?!” Mobius had him hard by the shoulder of both his jacket and dress shirt.

Loki blinked once then made eye contact with Mobius, “what ever do you mean?”

“He was about to kill you!”

“Prune,” Loki politely corrected. Mobius gawked.

“I kno--what were you thinking?!”

“Your only use of me is to capture me, I was assisting in that.”

“By letting you be killed by yourself?!”

“A mere distraction to the larger goal, Mobius.”

“And it almost worked,” B-15 piped from somewhere beside them. Her voice had dropped a tone or two.

“Yeah… almost had ‘im too.” Mobius admitted, letting Loki go. “But seriously, man, what was that?”

“Nearly fulfilling my role, as you yourself stated.” Loki replied pleasantly.

“We also barely pruned it in time and got outta there with our lives.” B-15 stated.

“Yeah…” Mobius rubbed the back of his head with his other hand on his hip as he stared at the floor. I was not lying, Loki wanted to say. To push. To scream. But he instead focused on the ache in his back. It should be fine in a matter of a few more hours given the time he had for recovery before the Tesseract opened the portal in New York and he was knocked from the Mind Stone’s, and thus Thanos’, direct influence.

~~~@%*^*%@~~~

Loki subconsciously touched his hideously blue palm as he waited outside of the judge’s office for his handler. The doors were decorated with sandglasses. How quaint .

Mobius finally emerged, stalking right past him. Loki fell in step behind him. He realized such only after he’d done it.

An angry finger wagged in front of him as they walked, “one thing, Loki, that’s all I asked.”

“The ‘talk��� from earlier.”

“No! Catching the superior version of yourself. We lost guys out there today-- good guys!” Good, yes, ‘good guys’ who also happened to have erased who knows how many people from existence.

“There would have been a lot more had I not been there and, likewise, a lot less had I been heeded.”

“And there you go again. That narcissism! Do you ever stop? Get tired of yourself?”

Loki didn’t respond as Mobius stopped and whirled on him, only gave him his schooled expression.

“I’m on thin ice ‘cause of you. I saved you, remember that? Didn’t that mean anything to your Asguardian standards or personal morals or anything?”

“If you recall, I was about to meet that fate regardless as I helped you bring in my Variant. I also have little doubt you will delete me if I survive assisting you in their arrest either way.”

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy? Ok. Well that other you is worse, remember that. He’s killed a lot of people--more than you. You’re just a little blue ice runt, crying in the cold.”

Loki chuckled and didn’t even need to bite back the urge to correct this “Loki expert.”

“Ever get tired of playing this same old part?” Mobius continued bitterly, “I’m getting sick of your constant need for sympathy, Loki!”

“Mobius?” He asked after allowing a few minutes to pass.

“What?” Mobius mumbled.

“This other Variant is after reset charges, why not supervise another ‘pruning’ in case we find the correct branch they target. How many happen in a day, usually?”

~~~@%*^*%@~~~

Loki almost choked when they entered into an Aguardian hall. The was beautiful and towering and held stones and architecture he could rewrite the books about. For one blissful second, he closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of his homeland--or the place he was raised. His glamor fell over him unconsciously.

Then he had to play follow-the-leader with the TVA peons. He rounded a large corner and immediately knew how many steps it would take to get to his room, his mother’s and Thor’s.

“Loki?” A familiar voice boomed. Loki tensed. Mobius cast him a “good luck” glance and mumbled, “I’ll be back for ya, Blue-Raz”

Loki had the urge to run him through followed by his brother who should not—it didn’t matter, the timeline would be reset. The Thor bounding up behind him would be pruned with everything else… why did that hurt? He turned to face his adopted sibling.

“Loki, it is you? Isn’t it? I mean you look horrendous in that getup, but it’s you!” Thor held his hands out in what could only be described as reverence. But the esteemed Asguardian Prince was wearing dirty Midguardian clothes and had a beer gut to match. How? Barely any time had elapsed between that moment and when they were facing down in New York.

“It is me but what happened to you, brother?”

A shadow came over Thor’s face. His hands lowered and he reached out to Loki.

“Tell me the truth,” he whispered, “did you just escape the dungeons?”

Loki held his gaze for a few long moments. The timeline will be reset. There is no harm in it.

“No, Thor, I never—this me never went to the dungeons. Never came back to Asguard.”

Thor hissed an inhalation of breath as his eyes widened.

“Thor what happened to you? Why do you have mismatched eyes? Where is your armor? Or Mjolnir?”

“Oh, Loki! Loki. Loki. Loki.” Thor’s voice trembled with false laughter and an emotion Loki didn’t know, “what--you look horrendous. What in the Nine Realms are you wearing?”

“Thor, it is good to see you, but I’m afraid I don’t have the time for a chat.” Loki returned, clipped. Redline grew ever nearer.

Thor’s face fell again, “Loki… just tell me you’re alive. That I didn’t fail you on the Statesmen--Thanos is dead now, I-I killed him! I-... I killed him… I avenged you.”

“Oh, Thor,” Loki found himself saying as Thor’s eyes shined and tears spilled onto his cheeks. He allowed himself to be squeezed in the other’s arms… and found it to be the best hug he’d ever received… or the only hug….

“Thor… Thor, are you listening?” Thor only sobbed into his shoulder, holding Loki up against his beer gut and off of the actual floor.

“Y-yes?”

“Very soon, this timeline will be reset which means you will have never seen me here. So tell me, what happened to you?”

Thor whined in the back of his throat and plopped Loki back down, it was just hard enough to make pain spike up his nearly healed spine.

“I--You--Thanos--.”

Loki laid his arms on Thor’s biceps, squeezing gently, Thor shuttered then took a breath and smiled fondly at him. Fondly. Thor never did that. What sort of--how is he not the Variation?

“So after Ragnarok, Thanos… had all the Stones and killed half of what was left of Asguard including you. I wasn’t able to--I’m sorry.”

“Just tell me, Thor, I am right here.”

“Then I was found by the space morons and went to Nidevelir to forge Storm Breaker because Hela broke Mjolnir before Sakaar--Ragnarok happened because of her. Then we battled with the Avengers in Wakanda and… I didn’t go for the head! How could I have not gone for the head?! Thanos snapped and…. It was horrible, brother. Absolutely horrible. The whole universe. And so many extinctions followed and more tragedies. I-....” He hung his head. “I tried to drown my worries like the ‘oaf’ I am….”

“I thought your annoying little group was the ‘Avengers’ not the ‘Alcoholics.’”

“... Ha!” Thor slapped him on the back. The statement seemed to have brought about the intended reaction.

“Yes! Of course! So five years later, we found him and I slayed him! But Tony and Scott found a way to move through time to get the stones to undo it all, and so we did, and we succeeded! But still, Thanos haunted us and we had a final battle--which we won!” Thor seemed to have noticed himself that he was about to go into one of his long winded stories of victory, and cut it short.

Then his smile abated and his beard fell, “Loki, Steve and Tony lost the Tesseract in 2012 to you…?”

“Yes, yes, that would be me, brother.”

A gasp of breath as Thor readied himself for the most bone crushing hug in the universe was all that was afforded to Loki.

“Thor,” he wheezed slightly, “I know I was not kindest to you but must you kill me prematurely?”

“Oh, Loki! I never threw you off the Bifrost, and I-!”

“Charge is set, we gotta boogie!” Mobius interrupted, jogging over.

Thor allowed the interruption if only to interrogate him, “and who are you? How and why do you command my brother? If you are with Tha-!”

To Loki’s astonishment, a few electrical charges emanate off of his brother.

“No, time to talk. Put Loki down We gotta get outta Dodge.”

Thor’s grip tightened, “Thor, just do it!” Loki groused. Thor did. Mobius opened the portal.

“Sorry, big guy, big fan but I need your Buddy. You ever think of trying Old Spice?”

“Ah--I just--Loki just returned to me as he always does and you expect me to just give up?!”

“Thor, do not follow us, I would rather not see you get deleted.”

Heavy feet crossed through the yellow threshold and left 2023 Thor in 2014 with a gaping mouth and tear stained cheeks.

“So no Loki!” Mobius announced as he clapped his hands together, “that means we gotta get to work!” He went on to walk at a brisk pace. Loki trailed after, blinking back the stinging in his now red eyes.

“I was of the understanding that is what we were doing,” he put a hand over his throat while he cleared it.

“I need you to go over each and every one of this Variant's case files, and then, give me your... How do I put it?... Your unique Loki perspective. And who knows? Maybe there's something that we missed.”

Seeing as how you are so hypocritical, I would be surprised if you had not missed anything. Honestly, “all you Lokis are the same” yet in the same breath, “no Loki variant is exactly alike.” I think as I do.

“You are the expert, I trust your judgement” Loki said instead.

“That's why I'm lucky I got ya for a little bit longer. Let me park ya at this desk. And don't be afraid to really lean into this work. Here's a good trick for you: pretend your life depends on it. I'm gonna get a snack.”

For all his countless hours spent in not only the Grand Library, but others around Asguard and the other Realms, he found himself having little interest in sifting through all the instances in which that other version of him overcame the great TVA and triggered more animosity against themselves--and all other Lokis.

“Any motive, Sherlock?” He asked dryly.

“That’s what you’re for!” The agent chuckled, poked at his chest and walked away.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the agent walk away then turned his attention to the paperwork. The pattern was known to begin with but became… inane the more pages he flipped through: nexus event, dispensed TVA agents, the team goes silent, they’re found dead and without the reset charge, Mobius, the expert, is called in for investigation and then the branch is reset before redline.

One Loki… only one to best their happy little teams. I was bested, but I also have extenuating circumstances of the past year. Without Thanos’ interruption, could I have?... Yes, I fought alongside Thor and his foolish troup of warriors, I would have been able to exact my own damage. For a ‘timeline protection force,’ how are they schooled in combat?

“Pardon me,” he tapped the librarian’s bell. She turned to him with a nonplussed expression.

“Could you show me to the combat regimens of our dear agents?”

“No.”

“Infographics?”

“No.”

“Battle end-games?”

“No.”

“Well, you have been very helpful, thank you.” It was still a library after all and he more than knew his way around one seidr or not; his mind was still intact--somewhat intact and that had always been his greatest weapon.

So he sat back down at the table to form a plan of action, so to speak, of how he could find the files he wanted in the fastest and most assured way. But, he still had all the paperwork of this other Loki, dripping in red. Oozing. Gushing. Like Thor’s cape as yet more enemies were put to ruin under his brother’s sheer might. He never envied that red; never thought he could own it or have it become him… yet this other version had jumped--leapt into that pool of blood and ended all who stood in their way. Incapacitation would have sufficed. Has sufficed in innumerable cases. He’d both saved lives of his comrades and stupid brother, and saw the end goal in such a way.

He gasped and leapt up, running along the railing of the library.

“Mobius--.”

“No, I said, ‘don’t bother me until you’ve read all the files,’ and I know you don’t read that fast.” Mobius set his Js\osta down with a hard thonk .

“I have, but unimportant--.” Loki slid into the seat across from the agent in the cafeteria.

“No, read every file pertaining to the Variant.”

“The answer does not lie in the files, it lies on the timeline!” Mobius gave him a dangerous look at the slight raising of his voice. Loki took a breath.

“Look,” Loki began again with his arms fanning over the table, “they’re hiding in apocalypses.”

“Which one? There’s, like, a million?”

“Take Ragnarok, I assume you are familiar?”

“Yeah, total destruction of your weird coin planet and most of its people because of your sister Hela. I’m sorry.”

Sister? Hela? Thor mentioned her--unimportant now.

“Yes, well, that recent visit with Thor got me thinking…?”

Mobius regarded him but eventually sighed and sat back, making a small gesture, “yeah, sure, ok.”

“Nexus events happen when someone does something that is not meant to happen--.”

“A bit more complicated but yeah.”

“These can culminate into entire other timelines--.”

“Chaotic alterations of a predetermined outcome.” Loki did his best to ignore the interruptions. He forced animation into his movements as if trying to explain it to Thor. That was best, pretend he was explaining something that now seemed so basic to the warrior.

“Alright! So this is Asgard,” he plundered the agent’s salad bowl. Said agent gave sad push back. Loki continued.

“I could travel back to Asgard preceding Ragnarok and do whatever I wished; switch crowns, resoil linens, topple some columns. I could destroy the Rainbow Bridge.” He grabbed the small salt shaker and started pouring some in. Mobius mourned his food. Loki was not fed.

“None of this would matter. Not if I set fire to the courtyard. Or even killed the Allfather!”

“Why--Lo--God, Loki!”

“Excuse me,” Loki greeted Casey kindly at an adjacent table, “are you finished with this?”

Casey, who had his bunched napkin thrown on his plate in clear sign of being finished looked from his crumpled juice box to Loki, “you!”

“Yes, very nice to see you again,” Loki took the drink container and poured it into the salad, secretly relishing how the agent utterly deflated.

“Due to Surtur!” Loki finished.

Mobius rubbed his hand down his face, “what am I lookin’ at?”

“Apocalypses, Holmes.”

“Loki, you just apocalypse my lunch, I wanted to eat that!”

“You want my other Variant.”

Mobius leaned onto the table, “cut to the chase.”

“That is how they have escaped you for so long; no matter what happens, an apocalypse negates anything that would otherwise summon the TVA.”

“Oh, not bad. Not Bad. Hey, so, how do you weigh over five hundred pounds?”

That was a “jackknife”--as Midgaurdians may say--that he did not expect.

Mobius raised his hands, “hey, I’m not judging, just curious.”

“Focus, Mobius, please.”

“Ok, ok. My salad. Destroyed.” Another despondent hand waved at the bowl.

“I can show you my theory is true.”

Mobius laughed, “I’m not letting you go.”

“You come with me, naturally,” Loki pushed.

“Well, I’ve had enough of your troublemaking for one day.”

“No one has to know unless I am correct--which I am.”

“TVA agents can’t just go running around anyway. Waltzing into the White House would be a Nexus event.”

You are not listening!

“Pompeii, for instance, you Midguardians like talking about that catastrophe, we could go there!”

“Pompeii?”

“Pompeii. Everyone died and that town was not even the worst hit of the eruption of Vesuvius.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Talk, talk, talk. Oh, you’re so smart!” Mobius sneered and wiped his mouth with his napkin despite not having spilled anything much less eaten enough to make a mess of his face. No food for either of them it seemed.

“If I go along with this and you stab me in the back, you’re getting erased. Capische?”

“Understood,” I am fully expecting that regardless.

#loki #loki series #loki show #Loki Show Rewrite #loki series rewrite project #loki series rewrite fanfic #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #cannon non-compliant #gentle reminder that just because a character says something doesn't make it true

[muwi-translates]

Collar x Malice予約特典ドラマCD「HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR……」

Collar x Malice Yoyaku Tokuten Drama CD - HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR...

Word count of 4712, approximately 35 minute long track. Spoiler free. Just a note that I used a Chinese translation as my main source, and did some light cross-referencing from the original audio. I guarantee there will be some inaccuracies.

**Please don’t move this translation or claim it as your own.**

---

Shiraishi: This is Yanagi Detective Agency. 

From cat hunting to investigating extramarital affairs, all kinds of complicated cases aren’t refused. This is an agency where detectives specialising in different fields live together. 

Eh? Shinjuku quarantine? Nonsense, nothing that shocking has happened here. That must have happened in another world’s Shinjuku. 

In short, the members of the Yanagi Detective Agency are Aiji Yanagi, the director, and the investigators; Mineo Enomoto, Takeru Sasazuka, Kageyuki Shiraishi, and… 

[Knock knock]

Okazaki: Good morning, detectives of Yanagi Detective Agency, here’s today’s request~! 

Enomoto: You again, Okazaki?

Okazaki: Yup, me again. I’ve already become a regular here. I’m coming in~

Enomoto: But we just finished your request not that long ago.

Okazaki: And thanks for always helping.

Enomoto: You probably don’t even need detectives for your request. It’s always something that you can do yourself.

Enomoto: You even asked Yanagi-senpai to make you food a while ago.

Okazaki: It’s because I’m disastrous with housework. Plus, Yanagi-san’s homemade food is so delicious~ 

Shiraishi: It’s because Yanagi-kun is particular about the details.

Sasazuka: That said, Yanagi-san, even though that guy said it was because he made a request, don’t you think he comes in and out of here too often? 

Yanagi: Ah, it’s because he pays generously. Maybe he’s scam-- no, he’s definitely a regular customer. 

Sasazuka: Maybe he’s planning something? It wouldn’t end up being something like “he’s actually from the police force” right?

Yanagi: Enomoto and I can’t do anything, if you and Shiraishi just look into him then we’ll be able to see his true colors. 

Sasazuka: Don’t act like it’s none of your business, aren’t you the director? This should be a joint responsibility. 

Enomoto: Well? What’s it going to be today? Cleaning your house? Repair the roof? Walking the dog? 

Okazaki: All of those are attractive, but it isn’t about me today. Actually, I wanted you guys to help plan Ichika Hoshino’s birthday party!

Everyone: Hah?!

Okazaki: Eh? Why’s everyone so surprised?

Yanagi: Let me just confirm first… Hoshino is a member of our agency, you do know that… right? 

Okazaki: Mhm, of course I know. You’ve been looking after me the whole year, after all.

Yanagi: So why exactly are you asking us to help you plan her birthday party?

Okazaki: Eh? Isn’t it obvious? I want to get along with her more.

Enomoto: Hey, you dumb gourd. Don’t tell me the reason why you keep coming up with requests-- was ‘cus of her?! 

Okazaki: …Of course not~ ⭐

Sasazuka: What’s with that unnatural reply?

Shiraishi: I see, I suppose ‘a moving effort’ is a nice way to put it. 

Enomoto: No matter how you look at it he’s one step away from being a stalker. 

Yanagi: Okazaki, if you’re going to do this to our staff--

Okazaki: Ah, if it’s about the payment, I already prepared it.

Yanagi: …!

Okazaki: I’ll pay for the full cost of the birthday party. I think… this should be enough? 

Yanagi: W-With this amount, this month’s rent…

Enomoto: W-Wait, Yanagi-senpai! I can see dollar signs in your eyes! 

Yanagi: Food expenses have gone up recently too...

Enomoto: Nonono, you can’t sell your conscience like this! If we don’t have enough money, you can just borrow some from Takeru!

Sasazuka: Don’t joke around, you won’t get even a cent from me.

Enomoto: HEY! You’re the one who’s upping our food expenses!

Sasazuka: I’ll only pay for my portion. 

Shiraishi: Now, now, it’s not a difficult request, let’s just accept it. It’s just her birthday party, nothing bad.

Yanagi: But…!

Shiraishi: As long as we keep watch, even if Okazaki plans to do something weird, we can stop him before that happens. 

Okazaki: So mean, I already said I won’t do anything weird. I’m not Shiraishi-san.

Shiraishi: Ahaha, I hope that you’ll acknowledge that everyone thinks you’re more dangerous than me, hm?

Yanagi: Well, fine. We’l...l accept your request. 

Okazaki: Really? You’re a great help~ I already promised Ichika-chan that I’d throw her a birthday party.

Enomoto: Hah?!

Sasazuka: Oi, when the hell did you-- 

Okzaki: It’s a birthday party, right? If you don’t tell her about it and she doesn’t come then there would be no meaning, right? You should schedule these things ahead of time! 

Shiraishi: As expected of Okazaki, you move quickly.

Okazaki: Hehe, compared to Shiraishi-san I’m still a long way off.

Sasazuka: You two, you’re making it feel colder here with those smiles. 

Yanagi: As long as we’re able to keep Okazaki and Hoshino from being alone together we can avoid any issues. 

Enomoto: That’s true… as long as we can protect her from Okazaki’s claws then--

Okazaki: It feels like you guys have some sort of misunderstanding about me? I’ve been officially introduced as a pure-hearted airheaded man who’s completely harmless, you know.

Sasazuka: You’re just saying that yourself.

Enomoto: A guy who pretends to be an airhead is the most dangerous of ‘em all!

Okazaki: So mean… well, fine. Then, let me explain my request again from the top.

Okazaki: I want you guys to investigate to see what will make Ichika-chan happy, and help throw a wonderful birthday party~ 

Okazaki: After all, her birthday is only 5 days away. 

Yanagi: I got it. It’ll be faster if we split the responsibilities. We need someone for the gift, the food, and the cake, and… let me think, if we’re going to have a surprise party, we need someone to be in charge of that too. Since it’s a surprise party, we should also take into account how to make Hoshino happy.

Sasazuka: I’ll take the cake. 

Enomoto: You’re deciding yourself?! 

Sasazuka: Because I’m not going to eat a cake that tastes bad.

Enomoto: So you just care about eating it yourself…

Yanagi: If Sasazuka chose it himself then there probably won’t be any problems. Next, the cooking--... I guess it’s me. 

Okazaki: Yanagi-san makes the best food, after all! I’m looking forward to it! 

Enomoto: Okayokayokay! Me! I’ll do the presents! 

Sasazuka: Hah? You?

Enomoto: That’s right, I’ll use my high aesthetic sense to make her happy! 

Shiraishi: Haha, indeed, Enomoto-kun does have “good” sense in a way. But if you’re going to go while wearing those clothes, then I don’t think you have the right aesthetic sense that will please girls. 

Enomoto: Heh, Shiraishi-san. I don’t want to hear that from a guy who’s almost thirty years old who wears cat ears. 

Okazaki: Hehe, that’s true. 

Shiraishi: Hm…? Enomoto-kun, you see, I don’t often get angry, but just then, I felt just a little mad. 

Enomoto: Guh…! I-I didn’t say anything wrong, I-I’m not scared of you! 

Sasazuka: You’re shaking though, and your voice is getting smaller.

Okazaki: Hey, hey, should I be in charge of the present too? I want to give her some sleeping goods, so my gift to her will be the gift of the most comfortable sleep! What do you think? 

Enomoto: Aren’t you the client? Why are you taking part?

Yanagi: A present, huh… well, at Hoshino’s age, wouldn’t accessories be more appropriate? When it comes to women, they’d be happy to receive those. 

Okazaki: Accessories? I’ve already decided to give those to her when the opportunity is right. 

Enomoto: When the opportunity is right? 

Okazaki: It’s customary to give an engagement ring when you propose, right? Ah… a birthday proposal doesn’t sound like a bad idea. 

Enomoto: E-E-E-E-Engagement?! A birthday perpozal?!!?!

Shiraishi: Enomoto-kun, Enomoto-kun? You’ve gone from disbelief into speech impediment territory.

Enomoto: Shiraishi-sanwhatareyousayingIdon’tunderstand!!

Shiraishi: I meant you were saying words that sounded right but also mangled almost beyond recognition.

Enomoto: Oh, yeah, right!

Sasazuka: Hey, Okazaki, what you just said… are you being serious? 

Okazaki: Eh? Why wouldn’t I be? I wouldn’t joke about these things. 

Sasazuka: Hm...

Enomoto: Yanagi-senpai, is this okay? Our own staff member is gonna get taken by this guy--

Yanagi: [Sigh] ...Calm down. Okazaki just said he’d do that when given the opportunity. And he never said he was talking about Hoshino. 

Enomoto: Oh… I see… Yup! That’s true! I was overthinking too much! Ah, got all surprised for nothing.

Shiraishi: Well, I just think he wasn’t saying it clear enough. 

Okazaki: Haha, that’s true.

Enomoto: W-Wait, what’s with that secretive dark smile?! Don’t tell me this guy… is planning to do something!!? 

Okazaki: Hm? That’s why I said I wanted to give her a birthday present, it’s why I came to make my request today. 

Sasazuka: Tch, that stupid cat. Don’t just be all nice to people whenever you want, god dammit. 

Enomoto: Arghhh… alright, Okazaki! Come out! To the roof! 

Okazaki: Huh?

Enomoto: We’ll decide with a contest who will get the gift! It’s a duel! And it’ll definitely be me, the great Mineo Enomoto, who shall be victorious!! 

Yanagi: No, no, Enomoto, wait a second-- 

Enomoto: Don’t stop me, Yanagi-senpai. There are moments where a man has no choice! Yoooooooooooooooooo--!!

[Door slams]

Okazaki: ...He left...

Yanagi: Good grief, did he forget that this was Okazaki’s request? 

Shiraishi: Isn’t this a good thing? It’s all in good fun. If there wasn’t a contest, then Enomoto-kun wouldn’t have accepted it. 

Yanagi: You say it like that but...

Shiraishi: Then Okazaki-kun, Enomoto-kun, Yanagi-kun and I will be part of the contest. It looks like Sasazuka-kun doesn’t plan on doing anything else other than picking the cake, so could you be the referee? 

Sasazuka: So annoying, I want to hurry up and pick the cake. 

Okazaki: Hehe… a contest? I’m getting all excited. 

Yanagi: Huh? Me too?

---

Sasazuka: Let’s start, who’s going to buy the present? Fight for it. Tell me what gift you’re getting for that stupid cat. The most suitable gift for her will be in charge of the gift. That is all. Anybody going to raise any complaints? 

Enomoto: No problems here but… did we really have to take this to the roof? 

Enomoto: So cold… who was the one who wanted to do this up here? Ah. It was me. 

Yanagi: Enomoto…

Enomoto: Guh… I’m sorry...

Yanagi: You need to be more observant of things around you. 

Enomoto: I’ll keep that in mind…

Yanagi: Well, the roof isn’t bad. [Lights a cigarette] I can smoke here.

Enomoto: …! Yanagi-senpai! I’ll follow you for as long as I live!! 

Yanagi: Ugh-- don’t get so close, it’s disgusting… 

Shiraishi: You two get along so well, even though it’s a little suffocating.

Sasazuka: If I had to say, it’s a little cold. It’s not really a feast for the eyes if it’s Mineo and Yanagi-san. 

Enomoto:  Hey, don’t say stuff that people will misunderstand! In my heart, I’ve already decided on a partner--

Sasazuka: Whatever, talk about it later. Let’s hurry up and get this over and done with. 

Enomoto: Okay, okay. 

Yanagi: [Sigh]

Sasazuka: Then let’s start with Shiraishi.

Shiraishi: Can I? Let me think… I want to give her a pair of cat ears like mine. 

Okazaki: A pair like Shiraishi-san’s...

Sasazuka: …Cat ears. 

Shiraishi: Ah, hers won’t be the same as mine. I’ll make sure they’re high-tech. I want to install a security system that will protect her in any crisis. Ah, of course, I’ll manage the 24 hour surveillance, so there won’t be a problem at all.

Enomoto: What do you mean ‘no problem’?!!!!

Okazaki: It’s like putting a fawn in a lion’s cage. 

Yanagi: Shiraishi, no matter what you say you’re obviously out. 

Sasazuka: Don’t even need to think about it. Rejected. 

Shiraishi: Ehh…

Sasazuka: Isn’t that completely just restraining her? Next, Mineo. 

Enomoto: Okay, leave it to me! If it was me then I’d make her a homemade protection charm! 

Sasazuka: Next. 

Enomoto: HEY! Wasn’t that a quick rejection?! This is going to be my masterpiece so at least listen to ‘till the end! 

Shiraishi: Even if he does, it probably won’t change anything. 

Enomoto: In the protection charm, I plan to put my own original prayer for her happiness. And, I’ll pair it with a charm of my own in my own design-- 

Sasazuka: Rejected, next.

Enomoto: So tell me why?!! Give me a reason! A reason!!!

Shiraishi: That protection charm or whatever, isn’t it a bit too serious? I can already roughly imagine what you’ll write on the prayer. 

Okazaki: Ah, I know, he’ll curse her by writing “I hope Ichika-chan will fall in love with me”, right? 

Enomoto: N-N-N-NoOO!! And don’t call it a curse!

Yanagi: Calm down, Enomoto. All you’re doing is confirming their suspicion.

Enomoto: Yanagi-senpai, you can’t go talking about suspicion or whatever too! 

Sasazuka: Plus as soon as you said it was going to be a pair I’d heard enough. As long as I know that they’re a pair, I’m rejecting it.

Yanagi: Maa-- it’s best to try and avoid hiding personal feelings as much as possible. 

Sasazuka: Next, Okazaki.

Okazaki: Hm… it has to be those sleeping goods I talked about earlier. High quality sleep is good for health, right?

Yanagi: Well… that’s true.

Shiraishi: Coming from Okazaki, that’s a decent thing to say.

.Okazaki: If she uses the sleeping goods I choose, she’ll definitely be able to fall into a comfortable, deep sleep, regardless if there’s an explosion or fire, it’ll be a top quality item that you’ll be able to sleep in~ 

Enomoto: Nonono… isn’t that way too much? That’s like… coma-level sleep. 

Shiraishi: Aha, so it wasn’t decent after all.

Okazaki: Eh? Is it no good?

Yanagi: Okazaki, you know you’re supposed to be the client, right? Why are you even participating? 

Okazaki: Ahaha, that’s true. Ahaha… I got a little careless. 

Enomoto: You forgot…?

Sasazuka: Good grief, all these ideas are horrible. If you’re all going to be like this then don’t participate to begin with. You’re last, Yanagi-san.

Yanagi: Didn’t I say accessories were good before? They’re a bit too expensive to buy herself, and rings and necklaces are a bit too heavy, so I think a bracelet would be nice. 

Sasazuka: As expected of Yanagi-san, reliable as always. Let’s go with that. 

Okazaki: Wow! A decision’s been made? The title “When You Have Trouble Go Find Yanagi Aiji” wasn’t given for nothing, huh... 

Yanagi: Where did that come from? Never heard of it… 

Okazaki: It’s like saying it’s okay to rely on Yanagi-san even in the main story. They say you’re as reliable as a certain cat-shaped robot [1]. 

Yanagi: Don’t talk about the main story. And, don’t compare people to service tools. You lot are just too unorganized. 

Enomoto: Eh? Wait… if Yanagi-senpai’s handling the gift, then who’s in charge of the cooking?

Sasazuka: We can have Mineo or Shiraishi-san do it.

Enomoto: Eh….? But Yanagi-san’s full course spread… 

Shiraishi: I’ve never done anything like cooking before, I’d rather plan for the surprise. 

Yanagi: Shiraishi doing the surprise? …I’ve got a bad feeling about that… 

Sasazuka: The stupid cat might die if you screw up. 

Okazaki: It’s okay, I’ll eliminate any threats that come her way.

Shiraishi: Why don’t you guys trust me? I’ll scare her properly. 

Enomoto: That’ll be bad for her heart… I’m sure of it.

Yanagi: Shiraishi, we’re doing a normal surprise. 

Shiraishi: Okay, okay, I’ll keep that in mind. 

Sasazuka: The cooking duties will be on Mineo. 

Enomoto: Me…? Well, if it’s for her then fine… 

Yanagi: Then let’s start preparing. That’s all for today. Disperse. 

---

Sasazuka: Five more days until that stupid cat’s birthday.

Attendant: Welcome~ Please let me know when you’ve decided on something. 

Sasazuka: I’ll have your best looking, best tasting, if a person were to receive it they’d be the happiest ever cake. 

Attendant: E-Eh…? Um… uh, I-I’ll get a pamphlet for you… please wait a moment. 

Sasazuka: Mm. 

Sasazuka: (As always they have the good stuff, as expected, I’m not mistaken. There should be something that will satisfy me in this shop. It’s rare to be able to buy a cake with company allowance, should definitely buy one that’s good. Nothing will go wrong if I pick her cake out myself, plus it’s not bad to see that stupid cat’s happy expression.

Getting a cake that will make her happy is nothing, it’s easy. When she does her work well enough once in a while, she’ll wag her tail when I give her sweets as a reward-- is she a dog? Well, it’s not bad to see. And it’s entertaining. 

Besides, she’ll be happy then, because I gave her sweets— no, because I praised her. Even I know this much. Let’s not think about the outcome for now, even I know how hard that idiot works all the time. If I tell her “I don’t hate this idiotic side of you”, then she’ll definitely be happy. 

Heh, not bad. There’s a limit on how unlike me I can be though.)

---

Enomoto: Four more days until that one’s birthday. 

Hmhm, today’s special is… oh, bean sprouts are on sale. If I grab these then next month’s rent will be a little easier-- wait, no, no, no, no, how could I do something Yanagi-senpai would?! I don’t have to pay attention to what’s on sale if I’m cooking for a birthday! 

Hm… homemade… feels celebratory… is a bit luxurious… okay! Let’s go with the great Enomoto special chirashi sushi[2]! That’s that~ 

When it comes to chirashi sushi, there should be shrimp, and… I’ve read that girls like refreshing food more than greasy ones. Speaking of, does she like eel? … Grilled eel isn’t usually something she’d be able to eat, she’ll definitely be excited for that!

Dammit, if only I could ask her what she likes… 

Oh! What about cutting carrots into star shapes? Hoshino likes childish things, she should be happy with that.

Hehe, her smile’s gonna be taken by the great Enomoto! 

Hm, no, maybe heart shapes would be better.

Guh, no! It’s not like I’m showing her my feelings! I’m not planning to say something like “please accept my feelings” or anything!! 

Uh… what am I saying to myself, I should confirm the menu first. 

If the most important flavours aren’t good then there’s no point making it. I’ll definitely make her say it’s delicious!

---

Shiraishi: Three more days until her birthday. 

Now then, after some thinking… my head hurts. I’ve never been to a birthday party, nor have I seen one before.

[Clicking and typing]

What exactly is a birthday party?

Even though it’s work, a case that isn’t stimulating is just bothersome. 

Well, as long as I understand it well, it’ll be useful in future psychoanalysis, so I’ll deal with it. 

Hm~ I see… I mostly understand what a birthday party is, it wasn’t too far from what I expected, next is about the surprise…  [Clicking] He~eh? A classic surprise is a trap? And… putting a blackboard eraser in the crack of a door??

Heh, being able to see her surprised reaction wouldn’t be bad at all. She’s so open, seeing her expressions one by one will be amusing. Ah, but.. this is a birthday celebration so I shouldn’t... make her angry.

Even though it’ll be fun to see her angry, I’ll bear with it this time… this time I should try to make her smile?  

Hm… what can I do to make her smile? ...How strange, usually these things are easily known just by observing them, but when it comes to her, it becomes more and more difficult to find the correct answer… 

But, when I imagine how she’ll laugh… it’s nice, it’s not bad at all. 

It’ll be nice to see the real thing once in a while, the smile she always shows when she’s happy. 

---

Okazaki: Two more days until her birthday.

Mm! I got it, I’m glad the preparations are going along smoothly. Thank you. I’m counting on you to keep this up until the day! 

[Beep]

Everyone’s working so hard, it’ll definitely be a wonderful birthday party. But, I can’t just leave it to everyone else. I also have to think about what will make her happy. 

Yanagi-san was chosen to handle the gift we’re giving her… hm… if it was her, no matter what we give her, she’ll probably say that she’s happy. 

If that’s the case, I hope she can be happy from the bottom of her heart. 

When it comes to things that won’t be forgotten, memories are best. 

Ah, maybe I’ll take her out to see the wonderful night view after the birthday party. 

Hehe, a helicopter date sounds good too. 

Hu… I actually wanted just the two of us to celebrate together… I really wanted her birthday to be a special day. I think about it a lot. ...But, you told me you’d be happy to spend time with everyone… when you say it like that, you make people want to make your wish come true.

But, it’ll be a little frustrating for me to tell them that, so this will be a secret.

Next year, I want to celebrate with just the two of us. 

---

Yanagi: One more day left until her birthday.

How weird… how did it turn out like this? How did I end up being in charge of the present when I was obviously more suited for the food? 

Attendant: Welcome, please take your time looking.

Yanagi: It’s been years since I went into a jewelry store. No, wait, have I ever been in one? I’ve never chosen a gift for a woman before. Hm... 

Attendant: If you’re having a hard time, I can give you my recommendations. Is it a gift for your girlfriend? 

Yanagi: Ah- no- it’s for a coworker. [Small voice] A coworker, right? [Normal] A coworker… I… think. 

Attendant: In that case, how about something from this series? It’s not as bold as some of the other ones, but it has a cute design, and is popular among women. 

Yanagi: A-Ah...

Attendant: If you have any questions, please feel free to ask. 

Yanagi: It’s not too luxurious, but not too simple either. It’s not conspicuous but the design is quite good, it’s not bad. I feel like it’d suit her. This is already the tenth store, I should pick one out soon… if she knew I picked it out what would she think? 

“It doesn’t seem like something Yanagi-san would do”... or something like that. … Well, I’m thinking of the same thing about myself anyway.

(That one’s always doing her best. Our office is full of men, not to mention we all have unique personalities. It’s obviously difficult for her to be able to keep up with us. But she never gets discouraged and she thinks about clients more than anyone else. There’s not much I can do for her, but I want to make her happy as a woman just once…)

Attendant: [Laughs] You’ve been thinking about it for a while now, you must be giving it to someone very special. 

Yanagi: Uh… ah… yeah. 

Attendant: For you to be able to think of her that much, I feel jealous just watching. 

Yanagi: (I see… so being this hesitant means that I value her that much. Then let’s keep thinking about it until the last moment. 

In any case, I don’t want to choose carelessly.)

---

Enomoto: Is this enough? 

Sasazuka: It’s tilted, idiot. 

Enomoto: Seriously? Where? 

Sasazuka: Why do you have to make that much noise when you’re just putting up flowers?

Shiraishi: Mm~ it looks good.

Yanagi: Shiraishi, why have you been walking around for a while now? 

Shiraishi: I’m checking on the surprise. 

Okazaki: Are spears going to fall from the sky? Or an explosion? If the office explodes I won’t be able to protect you.

Shiraishi: So annoying, how could you think of me like that? Today’s a birthday celebration, right? A frightening surprise like that would have a negative effect on her heart. I’ve avoided those properly, okay?

Shiraishi: I safely recreated a trick, don’t worry. Hehe, when I see what kind of expression she’ll make… 

Yanagi: You? A trick?

Shiraishi: I properly researched it, read all the information, and practiced it several times. I worked so hard, I hoped you guys would praise me. 

Enomoto: Ehh, Shiraisai-san? Kinda surprising.

Sasazuka: Speaking of surprising, it’s the same for Mineo. 

Enomoto: I-I worked hard, you know! 

Sasazuka: It’s the opposite, I didn’t expect you to be able to make a decent dish. 

Enomoto: …!  Y-You praised someone? Is it going to snow today?! 

Okazaki: The chiraishi sushi is made well! The colors are beautiful, the carrots cut into stars are also really cute. I just stole a small bite earlier and it was delicious! The rice was cooked well too~

Enomoto: That’s because I practiced at home so many-- ha?! Y-You ate some?!!! 

Okazaki: Eh? Yup! A heart-shaped carrot, it was delicious!

Enomoto: HEEEEY!! That was the ONLY special carrot that I put there!! Besides, why are you eating before the birthday girl?! 

Sasazuka: Shut up, what a bunch of idiots.

Shiraishi: Haha, speaking of, as expected of Sasauka. The cake looks both high-quality and delicious. 

Sasazuka: I looked a few highly reviewed cake shop, narrowed it down to a small range and decided to eat all the candidates before I decided. It’s impossible for it to taste bad. Should also suit the stupid cat’s tastebuds. 

Enomoto: You ate them all… how many did you eat? 

Okazaki: And the present Yanagi-san chose fits her image perfectly. Hehe, I’ll be glad to make her happy.

Shiraishi: It looks like you struggled a lot too?

Yanagi: Something like that.

Okazaki: I remember you said you were hesitant about which one to buy for a really long time? I heard you went into every single jewelry shop in Shinjuku. 

Yanagi: First of all, just entering one takes a lot of effort. 

Shiraishi: No matter how you look at it, you don’t suit jewelry stores at all. It would have been amusing if I was there to see you in person.

Enomoto: Maa, it’s great we managed to finish preperations safely. The interior decoration and the dining table setting are also done. Now all we have to do is wait for today's protagonist to come! 

Yanagi: We’re finally here, fortunately nothing bad happened… 

Shiraishi: It’s because everyone was doing things their own way~ 

Enomoto: I don’t want to be told that by Shiraishi-san… 

Okazaki: Hmhm! I agree with Mineo-kun.

Shiraishi: How surprising, I care less about the atmosphere more than I do things my way. 

Yanagi: The only reason why we’re all willing to assist is because it was “for Hoshino”, huh? No wonder everyone’s been so united... 

Sasazuka: I want to hurry up and eat the cake. Is she coming or not?

Okazaki: I think she’s almost here...

Enomoto: Oh! She’s coming!

Shiraishi: Hu… then shall we start the birthday party?

Okazaki: Everyone, are your poppers ready? 

Yanagi: Yeah.

Sasazuka: We were ready ages ago, just hurry up and let her in. 

Enomoto: Then I’m gonna open the door!

Everyone: ⭐Happy birthday!⭐

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

Yanagi: So you’re a year older now. The age difference between us is smaller by a year for now. You’re happy? Haha, I guess I am as well. I really appreciate the day that you were born, from the bottom of my heart. 

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

Okazaki: I’ve always wanted to celebrate your birthday. I wanted to have you all to myself on your special day. Hehe, it feels like I’m happier about this than you, huh? Next time, can I celebrate my birthday with you? 

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

Enomoto: Um… you know, I thought about it a lot. About how to make you happy. This might sound stupid but-- when it comes to how I feel about celebrating your birthday, I won’t lose to anyone!

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

Sasazuka: Ah? You’re surprised to see me celebrate your birthday? You’re my plaything, so it’ll be weird if people other than me celebrated your birthday. Alright, don’t be so loud, let me talk. You just need to wag your tail and be happy. 

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

Shiraishi: I don’t really understand it but, today is a really important day for you, isn’t it? Then, that means it’s an important day for me too. Haha, yes. Because you’re special to me, in every sense of the word. If this kind of thing can make you smile that brightly, then birthdays aren’t so bad. 

--------------------------- Translator’s notes: [1] ‘certain cat-shaped robot’ - Doraemon. [2] Chiraishi sushi - Called ��scattered sushi’ in English, think of a rice bowl but with sushi rice and sushi toppings.

#otome #drama cd #collar x malice #cxm #yanagi aiji #shiraishi kageyuki #okazaki kei #enomoto mineo #sasazuka takeru #mytranslations #drama cd translation #otomate

[darker-soft-starker]

Gold Digger / Sugar Baby Starker AU 

Warnings: some nff mentions, mentioned erectile dysfunction

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

Tony isn’t Peter’s first wealthy boyfriend.

His laundry list of previous entanglements is by no means lengthy, however it is somewhat selective. The criteria is simple: men with money - lots and lots of money.

Four years ago Peter been desperate. Six weeks behind rent his landlord was threatening to have him evicted, electricity already cut off, he’d dropped out of school to work three jobs. The cost of his aunts cancer treatment was so high even the most dubious loans couldn’t cover them. Everything was beginning to pile up with no way out.

So, in despair, he became an escort.

It was high end and he got lucky. One of his very first clients was a man so wealthy he practically exuded dollars from his pores, dropping a ten thousand dollar tip on Peter on their first night. The man seemed to like him, hiring Peter again and again, dressing him up in designer clothes and taking him to the most exclusive venues. 

Peter would have enjoyed it, had the man not been the scum of the earth.

No matter exorbitant his gifts were it never made up for how bad a man he was. Money couldn’t cover up his drunken racist remarks. Lavish luxury couldn’t excuse how the man looked down on the poor, literally spitting on the homeless as they passed them on the streets.

By the time Peter had cycled through a few rich clients he’d more than covered the cost of his aunts treatment, their rent paid six months in advance. He could even afford to pay off his student loans and move out on his own. He resigned with the escort agency, keen to get his life back on the straight-and-narrow.

Except, he had a taste for it, now. The creature comforts, the luxury cars, the attention. The satisfaction he got from ripping off perverts who hired him because his young face made him seem underage.

The things he had seen made his stomach turn. How was he supposed to go back to a normal life knowing what he knew about Hollywoods seedy underbelly beneath its glistening city lights?

So, he went out looking for them. 

They were all the same. Incredibly privileged men with more money than humanity, morally bankrupt despite their bulging bank accounts. All wanting something young and pretty on their arm and warm in their bed - no matter how much they have to fork out for the illusion of a smitten partner. 

It only ever took a few sweet words, wide eyes and wandering hands to hook them in and drain them dry. 

Once Peter would have his fill he’d sell their secrets to rival companies, then to law enforcement. It was by no means a humanitarian endeavour, but it made him feel good in the same way donating to charity did.

And he looked damn good doing it.

------

Peter had met Tony on a cloudy Monday morning.  

He’d heard all about Tony Starks philandering antics and his acerbic personality and pegged him to be just like the others, just another playboy looking for something to play with.

So he managed to get hired as Tony’s personal assistant, hamming it up as a meek, clumsy newbie. As the weeks progressed, the more flimsy Peters’ outfits became, one too many buttons open on his thin dress shirts, voice soft, eyelashes fluttering as he leaned in close to the man to pass him his coffee or a contract. 

It was the same drawcard he’d used for all the affluent assholes he’d dated prior; whether a high powered lawyer or a CEO, they all seemed to have a weakness for simpering submissive types, those who dropped things too many times, those who played dumb, didn’t engage in intellectual conversation. 

It took Peter an embarrassingly long time to figure out that kind of behaviour didn’t interest Tony for anything more than a one-night stand. 

Sure, he’d caught the end of Tony’s prolonged stares more than once, had noticed the appreciative leers whenever he bent over a table or to pick something up, but it wasn’t enough to truly engage him.

It wasn’t until one day, Peter frustrated and exhausted from a poor nights rest, had spoken back to the man with a scathing remark that Tony had really started to pay attention.

Tony likes bossy. Tony likes being challenged by someone he considers an equal. Once Peter dropped the facade of wide-eyed innocence, proved his smarts and snarked back it was like reeling in all-too-willing fish.

They’d been bantering all day, mostly light-hearted, because apparently that’s flirting, according to Tony and Peter can’t fault him for that. 

Peter had been teasing Tony for hours, all his usual tricks. In the afternoon he’d squeezed behind Tony’s chair and set his hands on the mans shoulders, lightly massaging the tight muscles through his shirt. A treat for all his hard work Peter had simpered, going back to their discussion on quantum field theory.

“I know what you’re doing, you know,” Tony had said, but relaxed into the touch anyway.

“Do you? Is it working, Mr. Stark?” Peter had asked, hands coming down to stroke at Tony’s chest. The man had near purred as Peters hands trailed over his pectorals. 

“It’s definitely working. At least let me take you to dinner first.”

So he did. Peter had been wined and dined that night, followed by the best fuck of his life, riding the man in the backseat of Tony’s car. And the rest was history.

Back then he’d only forecasted the longevity of their relationship to be a few months. A fleeting romance, however long enough for Peter to get into Tony’s wallet and for Tony to show his true colors.

Except, Peter is still waiting, is the thing.

Despite all his expectations and his fevered observations, Tony hasn’t slipped up yet. With the mans combined net worth and reputation, Peter had expected more than one skeleton cluttering his closet, red flags and scandals waiting to be uncovered.

The only secrets Peter finds in two years are the ones Tony whispers into his skin at night, his deepest insecurities and worst memories.

As time drags on Peter is beginning to suspect that maybe he rolled the dice wrong and maybe Tony just isn’t a bad guy.

Not long ago they were in Paris. They’d sat upon their terrace drinking coffee in the morning sun, making up life stories of the people passing below. Tony snorted at a particularly funny one and looked at Peter with such unadulterated affection and said:

“I fucking love you, Peter Parker.”

That was new.

------ 

The guilt is also new to Peter.

It’s not that Peter has never experienced remorse, but he’s not once felt a single modicum of contrition for the men he’s played or the luxurious gifts he took with him.

Peter keeps waiting for Tony to give him a reason to cut him off. Keeps waiting for the incriminating tabloid pictures proving Tony’s infidelity, anticipates some white collar crime to sneak into the newspapers, or like his last boyfriend, a violent temper.

But it’s been two years and Tony has yet to slip up. His interest hasn’t waned, his hands haven’t wandered. Peter would know - he’d set Tony up on three seperate occasions and the man is unfailingly faithful. 

The only thing that has changed is the ever increasing way in which Tony softens for Peter, how the fondness reaches his eyes and is woven into his words.

Tony isn’t Peter’s first wealthy boyfriend, but he has been his longest. The longer their relationship continues it becomes considerably clear that Peter miscalculated terribly. 

Because, despite public opinion, Tony is a good man. A really fucking good man.

Peter is never left wanting for intimacy or possessions, the only absence in his life is misbehaviour. Of course Tony isn’t perfect, he has his vices. He drinks too much, works too hard, loves like it’s going out of style. He spoils Peter and values everything he has to say. It’s the worst.

So, the guilt.

Peter feels lied to. The public, playboy persona of Tony Stark does not align with reality at all. Peter went to Tony for his transactions but Tony ended up giving him his heart instead. 

It was Peter who was supposed to do the ruining, not the other way.

------

Galas were never really Peter’s thing.

There was too much ceremony and exaggerated decorum for it to be any real fun. Any entertainment was usually in the form of a high profile guest tripping over themselves or a rowdy politician overindulging on the free alcohol.

Tonight it was to commemorate some new arts centre. They’d been there for an hour already but it felt like entire night was dripping by in slow-motion, minutes bloated in boredom. 

Peter is sullen, given up playing nice with the socialites and pretending he has anything in common with these people. He just wants to be at home in the jacuzzi, being hand-fed caviar and truffles. Is that honestly so much to ask?

As he’s about to suggest as such to Tony, a hand touches his wrist to get his attention. 

He frowns, looking over as some guy gestures to him, eyeing him up and down.

“How much?”

Tony’s arm around his waist keeps him upright as he politely removes his arm from the strange mans grasp.

“Excuse me?”

The man, short, stout and wielding a fat cigar between his fingers like a weapon, points at the diamond encrusted necklace dangling from Peters neck. The pendant, a large bejewelled spider, rests heavily against his sternum, hung by a solid gold plated chain.

“My niece loves the creepy fuckers,” the guy says by way of explanation, smoothing his tie down upon approach. “Got a thing for them. Has her own pet tarantula, can you believe?”

The arm around Peters waist tightens.

“It was custom made,” Tony supplies, pressing a kiss to Peters cheek whilst squeezing his hip. “Just for Peter. Cartier were generous enough to make it for our anniversary.”

Peter smiles at the mention, looks every bit the doting boyfriend as he leans into Tony further, winding his arm around the older mans waist. The man never fails to exude an effortless, old-school debonair charm, the satin lapels of his tuxedo reflecting the lowlight of the chandelier glow.

The stranger nods, chest hitching with a laugh. 

“Anniversary, huh? Well, congratulations,” he commends, nudging Tony with his elbow. “How long? Six weeks? Six days?”

“Two years,” Peter says, voice hardening. 

“I’m sorry, who are you again?” Tony adds, flagging down a waiter and scooping two flutes of champagne from the tray. “Do you know this guy, baby?”

“Nope,” Peter replies, accepting a glass from Tony with his free hand, toasting their glasses together with a clink. “No idea. I think he works here?”

“Does your manager let you mingle with staff?” Tony adds. “Isn’t that so adorable, honey?”

“So adorable,” Peter agrees, smiling at his lover. 

He enjoys watching the scowl form, the flustered, sheepish twitch of the mans lips as he struggles to find something to say.

“Excuse me,” is all the man says, turning on the spot and disappearing into a crowd of haute couture.

Tony lets go of his waist to turn further into Peter, hand coming up to trace the delicate chain up to the bump of his collarbone. It really is an exquisite piece, Peter concedes as Tony’s fingers grip the pendant, using it to pull Peter closer.

Peter goes willingly, flushing their bodies together. He slips both of his hands onto Tony’s hips, wondering if he could get away with snaking them into the mans back pockets, if he could squeeze Tony’s ass in public view. There’s something arousing about being crass in a formal setting like this, surrounded by Los Angeles’ elite and foregoing all of their staged propriety.

Tony must sense the intent because his gaze surrenders to Peter’s, leaning in to place a placating kiss on the corner of Peter’s mouth.

“Tony, Tony,” comes the chiding tone of Obadiah Stane. “What have I said about being indecent in public?”

“To only do it if I’m getting paid for it?” Tony quips, but loosens his grip on Peter nonetheless to shake his hand with his associate. 

Obadiah gestures to Tony with the hand that holds a glass of whiskey, speaking to Peter. “Think’s he’s a wise guy, doesn’t he?”

Peter smiles demurely, hand coming to rest on the back of Tonys neck. He knows better than to think that the man actually wants to hear his opinion on the matter.

“And, please remind me, which of us graduated college at seventeen?” Tony retorts not unkindly. “I think I’m absolutely qualified considered to call myself wise, wouldn’t you say Pete?”

It’s not Peter’s function to be funny in this play, so he swallows the already formed quips and nods, fingers stroking at Tony’s hairline as he pastes a wide smile on his face. 

Tony tugs playfully on Peters pendant, pulling him in for a chaste kiss. “Why don’t you get us some more drinks, sweetheart. I’ll come find you.”

Glancing between the two men, Peter agrees, letting his fingers brush the back of his neck as he walks away.

It’s not the first time Tony has tried to shield business from him, won’t be the last. In the early days Tony would rave ad nauseam about his company, all the tech being developed, conjoined at the hip to his office. He’s been quiet about it, lately. 

Peter doesn’t know what that means and reminds himself that he shouldn’t actually care. He’s done nothing to earn Tony’s trust, after all. 

When he reaches the bar he orders himself a vintage wine, sipping it as he cooly observes the room. 

The elite. The upper echelons of society. Or so they call themselves, as if they aren’t just every bit animal as Peter, if not more. As if the room isn’t full of criminals and adulterers, their wealth built on the exploitation over the lower ninety-ninth percent of the rest of the world. 

While Tony talks shop Peter leans against the edge of the bar, sipping, observing. He spots Pepper Potts in the distance and raises his glass to her when she nods to him. 

She doesn’t make much effort to hide how little she thinks of him, which is a shame, Peter thinks. He is ever so grateful for her hiring him as Tony’s PA those two years ago. 

If she hadn’t taken a look at his heavily falsified resume and considered him a shoo-in then where would he be right now? Probably on the arm of some lower level wall-street rat, which would be comfortable, but not where he wants to be.

It doesn’t take Tony long to finish, clapping Stane on the back and ambling over to the bar. He takes in the curved line of Peter’s inelegant slouch with unashamed appreciation, loafers skipping with a squeak against the polished floorboards as his step falters.

“That just for you?” Tony asks, nodding towards his half drunk wine. “You ready to go home, doll?”

Peter tucks his elbow into his chest, protectively clutching the glass closer to him. “Mhmm,” he hums agreeably, taking a large sip and downing the rest, watching Tony watching him. Once drained Tony offers his arm.

Depositing the empty glass on the glass counter with a clink Peter takes his arm, rolling his eyes at their antics, grinning nonetheless. 

They wave to various dignitaries, trust fund babies and political hopefuls as they make their departure, promising nebulous future appointments and catch ups, none of which will happen, but they all like to pretend. 

Outside in the cool fall air Tony pulls a stack from his back pocket, depositing it into the hand of the nearest valet. The woman scurries off to retrieve their car as soon as the notes nestle into her palm.

A sleek sports car, a model that Peter has never seen, pulls up while they wait, a woman covered in silk slipping inside. Tony whistles at the seamless lines, the near silent growl of the engine as it takes off into an opportune gap of traffic.

“I want one,” Peter says, transfixed at the gleaming paintwork. He turns to Tony and tugs on his tie. “In rose gold.”

“In rose gold,” Tony echoes softly into the night air, rolling his eyes. Peter can already see him mentally pulling out his checkbook as he smooths his tie down. “Anything else, baby?”

Peter only smiles as the Audi pulls up, slipping into the far end of the backseat and pulling along with him. He still has an ounce of refinement from his aunts lessons in him, so he waits until they have left the parking lot to sink to the car floor inbetween Tonys knees. 

This isn’t a hardship for him at all. In fact, having sex with Tony is his favorite past time.

With practised movement he slithers his hands up Tony’s thighs, spreading them apart. Their driver turns up the music as Tony’s zipper slides down.

Tony is predictably soft when Peter pulls him out, lazily fondling his length, Tony’s eyes getting progressively hazier as his cock gets stiffer. Peter enjoys laving the head with kitten licks, Tony’s soft groan as he licks his way from the base back up before taking the entire head into his mouth. 

It takes a while for Tony to get fully hard. Peter knows he’s insecure about it but it makes their age gap more apparent - and incredibly arousing.

Seated like a king upon his throne Tony hums in satisfaction, gently brushing his knuckles against the high crest of Peters cheek.

“So good at that, darling. Want to push your pretty head down and fuck your mouth.”

Peter groans affirmatively around the flesh in his mouth, encouraging Tony to do just that as he reaches for the older mans hand. 

“God, I love you,” Tony breaths, gently thrusting up.

Peter’s glad his mouth is occupied with Tony’s cock so he doesn’t have to reply.

------

When they get home after the gala Peter has worked Tony up enough to get thoroughly fucked against the windows of their bedroom, come shooting all over the glass. They shower and stumble into bed shortly thereafter. 

Under the sheets Tony curls into Peter, placing a sleepy kiss on his bare sternum, the warm exhalations from the mans nose tickling his skin. 

It’s not until Tony falls asleep that Peter allows himself to return it, pressing his lips into the older mans hair and sighing into the greying strands. Not for the first time he wonders if he’s in over his head.

There’s a slimy feeling all over his skin. Tony loves him. Tony is good and he loves Peter. Peter, who came into this relationship because he thought the man was made of too much stone to bleed. 

Somehow under all of the glamour and supposed moral superiority he’s become the very type of snake he’s been trying to ruin these last years.

He’s been a fool for staying this long, allowing himself to grow fond. Peering down at Tony’s vulnerable form, Peter knows he shouldn’t stay. Can’t stay. Better late than never to do the right thing, isn’t it?

Tony deserves better.

------

It’s for the best, he tells himself.

Sad, but resolute, starts pulling away. He surreptitiously packs his things, stays longer and longer at their Beverley Hills apartment until Tony begins to notice his prolonged absence. 

One night they are having dinner out at some high-end restaurant, Tony preoccupied on his phone. It’s happening more and more lately. Once there was a time where the man would determinedly dedicate the entire night to making Peter see stars without touching his phone once.

Maybe he’s losing interest in Peter after all. 

The thought shouldn’t make his chest hurt.

“Sorry about that, baby,” Tony says as he hangs up, reaching over to take Peters hand.

“Work comes first,” Peter appeases, squeezing Tonys fingers before pulling away to re-arrange his napkin.

Tony looks at him, eyes searching for just a moment. 

“You come first, Pete. You mean everything to me, you know that right?”

Peter nods, throat tightening up. He offers Tony a smile he knows must look flimsy and sips his wine to avoid saying something stupid.

“Me and Obie are working on something, baby. Something big. I know I haven’t been around much, but trust me when I say it’s going to be worth it.”

The hopeful, earnest smile on Tony’s face makes Peter feel like the worst person in the world.

However fine their food is, all Peter tastes is guilt.

------

It takes a few weeks but he makes his arrangements. 

Every day spent apart feels like a sandpaper scrub to his heart, leaving him raw and aching. When they’re together Peter hides his the wet pinprick of his eyes until Tony isn’t looking, only allows Tony to take him from behind so in his head he can call it fucking instead of love-making.

Tony Stark loves hard. It isn’t fair of Peter to take advantage of that anymore. 

So he picks fights. Begins acting like the vapid airhead he pretended to be when they first met. He spends less time in their bed and watches as Tony looks at him with increasing sadness.

Peter wants to be the type of guy that Tony deserves, but he isn’t. He might not have much money of his own but the one thing he can give Tony is the opportunity to be with someone who didn’t use him.

Turns out it’s Peter that’s just like the others, after all.

------

More and more time is spent at their alternative apartment, then May’s apartment. He tries to figure out what his life is supposed to look like, after. The sadness is distracting, but it doesn’t have any right being there.

He scrolls through endless online job listings, but ultimately his efforts are fruitless.

How is he supposed to explain the gaping gap years on his resume? What are his applicable skills? Being a money hungry sugar baby?

Not only that, but Tony Stark is nothing but high profile. Over the last two years Peter has been in countless pap photos, endless grainy TMZ clips. How is he supposed to go back to a regular life when he’s had articles written about his relationship?

It makes him frustrated and depressed. It makes him miss Tony who best waved away all Peters worries with a kiss and stream of distracting words.

He tries to stay away.

The need to be in Tony’s arms again wins over his moral crusade.

-----

On a midday venture back to the the mansion in Malibu, Peter intends to only be there a little while. Maybe have lunch with his - with Tony. 

He thinks he really should pick up the last of his belongings until he stops dead in the living room, color draining out of his face as he spots the older man.

“Tony?” he slowly approaches, hovering by the sofa. “You okay?”

Tony sits hunched over upon the sofa, head buried into his hands.

“S’all gone,” Tony whispers, burying his face deeper into his palms. 

“What do you mean,” Peter asks cautiously, moving closer and sinking to his knees to kneel between Tony’s legs, loosely clutching at the mans wrists. “What’s gone, babe?”

Tony gestures vaguely to everything around them, lifting his face from his hands long enough to indicate at their surroundings. His hands shake as they are brought back to his mouth, eyes red.

“You. Them.”

Peter shakes his head, guilt coming at him for a whole different reason. “I don’t --”

“They voted me out,” Tony interrupts, voice hoarse. “I put everything we own into this new deal. It was gonna earn us billions, baby - and when they accepted the board voted me out - he fucking framed me --”

“Ssh, hey,” Peter soothes, leaning inwards to press a kiss to Tony’s jaw. “It’s okay, Tony - “

“After this deal I have nothing,” Tony shakes his head, refusing to meet Peters eyes. “I threw all our chips in knowing it was a good bet. Fucking Stane, I swear to god I’m --”

Tony runs out of steam, his head hanging low, the defeat making the man look smaller. Shame and fear roll off of Tony in waves, his hands visibly shaking, chest hitching.

Something in Peter snaps and he lets go.

“I know I don’t tell you this enough,” Peters voice cracks, “but I love you. I really fucking love you.”

“I’m losing you too,” Tony whispers, wrecked. “I can see it. You don’t want me anymore, and why would you? I have nothing to offer you.”

Peter shakes his head, peppering kisses over the glistening tear trails on the mans face, resolve solidifying. It breaks his heart to see Tony like this - how could he ever think of leaving him - the only thing Tony ever wanted from him was unconditional and free.

He may not be what Tony deserves but Peter has always been selfish.

“I’ve lost everything, baby. I’m nothing.”

Peter shuffles closer on his knees, tilting his head down to capture Tony’s red-rimmed gaze.

“You’re everything. I don’t care if you don’t have a single penny. I want to be with you, okay? You’re my Tony.”

Tony smiles wetly. “And you’re my Peter. You’ll stay with me?”

Peter nods, kissing him sweetly, an idea forming into his mind as his anger grows towards Tony’s former associate. The fucking nerve of anyone knowing the real Tony Stark and wanting to hurt him sets his cells ablaze. There’s one way to right this wrong, to prove himself.

"If you’ll have me - and... if you want, I’m going to help you.”

Tony blinks, expression going serious. “What do you mean?”

Peter grins wryly. 

“Let’s just say I know a thing or two about getting into someones skin. Stane won’t see me coming.”

#starker #tony stark x peter parker #starker moodboard #starker fic #gold digger au #sugar baby peter parker #sugar daddy tony stark

[wingedquill]

sing me something i need

@geraltwhumpweek

TITLE: sing me something i need

SHIP: Geralt/Jaskier

PROMPT DAY: Day 3: Cursed

MEDIUM: Netflix

WARNINGS: Torture, murder (of a massive dickhead)

SUMMARY: When Geralt is a young witcher, he loves to sing. Love songs and ballads and ridiculous little ditties, it doesn't matter. He delights in using his voice, in making beautiful music. But then he's given the "gift" of jewels falling from his mouth whenever he speaks. A gift that kings would kill for. Would certainly hurt a lowly mutant for. He doesn't much like to sing, after that.

WORD COUNT: 4,962

AUTHOR’S NOTES: You can also find this on AO3!

“You know what I’m curious about, jewel?”

The king is here. Geralt shrinks back into the corner of his cell, wrapping his arms around his knees, because things are never good when the king is here. The last time he was curious, it was to see what kind of gems fell from Geralt’s mouth when he screamed.

Obsidian. Pretty and shiny but ultimately not as valuable as gold and jewels. And thank the gods for that.

“I wonder,” the king murmurs, tapping his jewel-coated scepter against the ground, “if you can sing.”

His heart drops into his stomach.

He loves to sing. He always has. In a world of blood and monster guts, he thinks sometimes that his voice is the only beautiful thing about him. He adores the wild freedom of belting out his sorrows and joys to the world, the way that his brothers grin fondly at him as he start

s up a jaunty drinking tune, the way he can weave a tragedy into something low and somber and perfect for murmuring around a campfire.

And he hoped—he hoped he could keep that love. That the king, with all his demands for his words and his whispers and his screams of agony, wouldn’t think to take this too.

But of course he did.

Geralt lifts his head and glares at him and wishes, not for the first time, that the fae who did this to him had given him the power to kill with a word. Or the power to fly, to soar far, far away from here.

“Don’t be shy.” The king steps forward into the cell, looming above Geralt. “I’m sure you sound lovely.”

“I—I can’t—”

His voice sounds like the rasp of sand sliding together. Two tiny pearls clatter to the floor, rolling across the rough stone. The king bats them aside with his scepter. He doesn’t have the patience for small offerings anymore.

“Sure you can,” he says. He lifts up the scepter and spins it around in his hand so that the bottom is facing Geralt. Its point gleams in the low light of the cell. Dull, but still sharp enough to pierce skin with the right amount of force. Geralt’s shoulder throbs at the reminder.

“Sing, my jewel.”

Geralt closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. Pretends that he’s not here, that he’s back within the walls of Kaer Morhen, safe and whole. That his throat isn’t as tattered as a white flag fluttering in the air over a battlefield. That his voice doesn’t betray him with every word he speaks.

And then he starts to sing. A lullaby he remembers Vesemir humming to him on the road to Kaer Morhen, when he was a child still afraid of the dark. A song that he’s come back to, time and time again, whenever he feels like that scared little kid.

His throat cracks and burns around the words, and he practically chokes halfway through the first line. Something knocks against the back of his teeth, and when he opens his mouth to sing the next word, a massive ruby falls from his lips.

It’s bigger than any jewel he’s ever spoken, and the king’s eyes light up as he waves at Geralt to keep singing. He bends down and plucks the ruby from the cold stone floor, even as a sapphire clatters down to take its place. He twirls the gem back and forth in his fingers, examining its facets, far more precise and numerous than any jeweler could hope to obtain. Even in the low light of the cell, it sparkles like it’s full of trapped fire.

It’s beautiful. Far more beautiful than his speech, his whispers, his screams.

Oh gods, no. No no no.

“I think we’ve found your greatest talent, my jewel,” the king says, even as Geralt coughs up the next gem, his throat heaving with the effort. Emerald.

“Hurts—” he croaks. A sapphire the size of his thumbnail clicks against the ground. The king rolls his eyes.

“When have I ever cared about that?” he says, sounding almost bored. “We’ve done this dance before, treasure. The beauty outweighs the cost.”

You don’t have to bear the cost.

He keeps those words to himself. His back still stings from the king’s last punishment for “mouthing off.”

The king presses the point of his scepter into Geralt’s shoulder.

“Keep singing.”

He keeps singing.

Gem after gem falls to the flagstones, and each one rubs his throat just a bit rawer, tears at his tongue and his lips and the roof of his mouth. He tries to sing softer, make the jewels a bit smaller, but the king digs the scepter in whenever the results are unsatisfactory.

The song drags on and on and on and not for the first time he wonders if he’ll ever burn through this curse, if the magic the fae had breathed into him would ever be depleted.

When it’s over, there are enough jewels on the ground to keep a man for several lifetimes. The king smiles as he gathers them in his hands, staring down at Geralt’s song like he’s picturing what he can make of it. A crown, perhaps. A throne. Another scepter, grander and richer and sharper.

“Again,” he says. “Higher this time. I want to see if range affects it.”

A sob tears itself from Geralt’s throat. He’s going to die like this. Suffocated by the thing he used to love, by the beauty of his own voice, his songs crushing him from the inside out.

“You can cry later, little songbird,” the king growls. “Don’t waste my time now.”

Songbird. The same teasing nickname that Eskel had given him, all those years ago. It doesn’t belong in this bastard’s mouth, no more than Geralt’s words belong in his hands, but he can’t take any of it back.

He gathers himself. He’s still a witcher, despite everything this man has done to him. He’s still a wolf, still a protector, a warrior, a strong and shining thing. The king can’t take that away from him.

He starts to sing a love song, a fluttery high thing that he used to tease the older witchers with when they started talking about their beloveds. It’s sweeping and triumphant, playful and joyous, but in his shattered throat, it sounds more appropriate for a funeral.

The jewels that pour from his mouth glitter like broken glass, and the king makes an almost disappointed sound as he reaches down to examine them. Then he pauses. Picks up one of the gems with a look of awe. They’re not as big as the rubies and sapphires, but they’re brilliantly cut and polished, and as clear as the cleanest water.

He holds it up to one of the rubies with a shaking hand, and scratches it across the other jewel’s surface.

“Diamond,” he whispered. “The most perfect diamond I’ve ever seen.”

He looks at Geralt, and his face doesn’t look like a human’s anymore. It’s twisted and sharp and glinting with malice, and if Geralt had his swords, he’d raise the silver one against this man.

“Keep singing,” the man orders. “Don’t stop until your voice gives out.”

By the time Geralt is allowed to stop, the diamonds that fall from his mouth are painted red with blood.

***

The king calls him songbirdlike he’s a harmless thing, a pretty, fragile creature trapped in a cage, nice to listen to but with nothing important to say.

“You really ought to look as valuable as you are,” he says one day, when Geralt is past the point of bleeding, emeralds spilled across the floor, his whole body twitching with pain. “Next time, treasure.” Another one of his favorites. Songbird. Treasure. Jewel. Pretty, desirable things. Nothing with agency.

A few days later, he has his servants bring in golden jewelry dripping with Geralt’s words, switching out the heavy iron manacles for diamond-studded ones, pressing a collar dripping with rubies around Geralt’s throat. He holds up a dangling sapphire earring with a wicked grin, and Geralt doesn’t even have a chance to protest before he’s shoving it through his earlobe. He yelps from the sudden shock of it, and a chunk of obsidian falls from his mouth. The king kicks it aside.

“Don’t waste your voice,” he says sternly, picking up the second earring. “Don’t scream unless I want you to. You know the rules, songbird.”

Geralt squeezes his eyes shut as the king pokes a hole in his other earlobe, as he pushes more and more earrings into his skin and cartilage, following the delicate shells of his ears. Anywhere but here, he thinks, as stubby fingers grab at his nose. I’m anywhere but here.

There’s a burst of pain in his septum and his breath stutters in his throat. The king laughs softly, and moves away. Something cool and metallic touches his neck, winds up his arms, slithers smoothly against his ankles. Jewelry or chains or both, his doesn’t know and his doesn’t think it matters. His fingers are forced out of their fists and rings are slid over them. They skip his left ring finger. No need to look like he’s anything so important as someone’s husband.

“Perfect,” the king says when he’s done. “So perfect. Let me show you just how much.”

Geralt opens his eyes and the servants hold up a mirror.

A terrified young man looks back at him. His eyes are wide, red with unshed tears. His face is thin from starvation, his arms and legs bare of muscle. His clothes are practically rags, and were clearly meant for a far larger frame, hanging off his shoulders and slipping off his waist. Their poor condition is a sharp contrast to the fine golden chains draped over his collarbone, the delicate piercings forced into his ears and nose, the jewel studded manacles locked to the heavy wall chains with gold padlocks. The collar pressed flush against his throat makes it clear how the king sees him. An exotic pet.

I’m a witcher, Geralt tells himself, as the king preens over his creation. I’m a witcher. I’m not meant for this.

But as the king blusters away, leaving Geralt shivering in his cell, ears throbbing and collar exacerbating the pain in his throat, he finds it difficult to believe that. Difficult to believe that he’ll ever be able to get out of here.

That’s dangerous thinking. That’s deadly thinking, that’s the kind of thinking that will leave him trapped here for years, missing possible escape attempt after possible escape attempt.

I’m a witcher. I’m a witcher. I’m made for something more.

***

He doesn’t know how long he’s trapped in that tower, singing and bleeding and singing and bleeding, over and over again. He does know there’s a point that he can’t sing the love song anymore, no matter how hard the king presses the scepter into his shoulder. His voice just doesn’t go that high anymore.

It never will again.

Something’s broken in his throat.

The king glares down at him with pursed lips, and fear curls in Geralt’s chest. That’s the look of someone looking down at a disappointing, disposable thing. He doesn’t know what will happen if the king decides he isn’t worth the jewels he speaks. If the novelty of having a broken bird wears off.

***

He starts speaking when the king isn’t there. It’s difficult. Bloody. Awful. His words rasp together like broken bits of rock, and he can feel himself grinding his throat into useless dust. But this is his only chance, and if a broken voice is the price he must pay for freedom, he will gladly make that trade.

***

Whispering makes glass.

Whispering makes glass.

The shard in his hand is as dull as if it had spent years in the sea, but he can work with this.

***

He toys with his whispers, changing the words, the tone, the pitch and volume and feeling. Slowly, he makes his words sharper and sharper, settling on a high, thin, furious whisper. The inside of his mouth is bleeding badly by the time he gets a satisfactory result, a knife-sharp shard as long as his finger. He tucks it into his sleeve, positions himself as close to the door as possible, and waits.

***

It’s simple to pounce when the king steps into the room, simple to jam the glass into his carotid artery, simple to extract little golden key from his robes as he chokes to death on his own blood. There’s betrayal in his eyes, when he looks at Geralt, and Geralt laughs, thin and broken, sending amethyst scattering over the king’s twitching body. The isn’t betrayal. The king doesn’t deserve betrayal. That would imply he was treating Geralt with kindness in the first place. It isn’t even revenge, not really. It’s self-defense, a desperate animal clawing its way to freedom.

Geralt never wanted to think of himself as an animal, as the wolf he used to wear around his neck, before he was brought here. He wanted to be a hero, a knight, something out of a fairytale. Something good and strong and pure.

But he isn’t that.

He’s a bird with sharp talons and tattered wings, and he won’t sing for this man ever again.

***

The guards don’t even try to stop him. He must look a fright, with bloody lips and bloodier hands, holding the kings sharp scepter like a sword, jaw set and eyes burning with furious desperation.

Or maybe they just can’t be bothered to capture him. It’s not like the king ever gave them any of his jewels. It’s not like they stand to gain anything by keeping him here.

Either way, he walks out of the castle that he’s spent the past—two years? He thinks?—of his life in on trembling legs, and he doesn’t look back.

***

Word will spread soon that the witcher with a gilded tongue is back in the wild, free for the taking. He needs to kill this curse before that happens.

He makes his way to the nearest town, half delirious with hunger and exhaustion and the stabbing pain in his throat, scrounging for berries as he goes. They taste like summer on his  torn tongue, sun-warmed and juicy, washing away the taste of glass and blood. A reminder that he’s free, at least for now.

There’s a mage living in an elegant cottage at the edge of the town, and he stumbles through her door to a yelp of surprise. She puts her hand on his shoulder and leads him inside, her wide purple eyes taking in the thinness of his face, his bloody hands, the collar still glinting around his throat.

“The white-haired witcher,” she breathes in awe. “You’re the jewel-speaker.”

His legs tense, ready to run.

“I thought, when I heard of you, that it was a cruel curse,” she says, brow furrowing. “I can see I was right.”

“Was supposed to be a gift,” he rasps. Three tiny opals clatter to the ground. “Saved a fae.”

“The fae know shit all about gifts,” she says. She reaches up, hands glowing with magic, and pulls the collar off his throat. He swallows reflexively, relishing in the feeling of unconstrained skin.

“Thank you.” An emerald joins the opals.

“Don’t thank me yet. Let’s see if we can return this gift, hmm?”

She rests her hand against his throat and closes her eyes.

“It’s powerful,” she says, her forehead twitching. “I can’t—I can’t get rid of it completely.”

Geralt’s heart sinks. So this is his life forever then? Hiding out in the woods, desperately trying to avoid soldiers sent to hunt him down for his voice. Being forced to sing, and speak, and scream until his voice vanishes for good, until there’s nothing left the world can take from him.

“But,” she continues, pulling him out of his spiral of panic. “I should be able to contain it. It’s—from the shape of the curse, it seems to be most powerful when you sing, right?”

He nods.

“Okay. I should be able to lock it away so that it only triggers when you sing. Is that okay?”

It’s not.

It’s really, really not.

But it’s his only option.

“Yes,” he says. A ruby falls into his hand. It’s the last jewel he’ll ever speak.

***

He doesn’t like to use his gift.

It reminds him too much of a cold stone cell, of bloody diamonds and whips and learning to hone his words sharper, sharper, sharper, until he was carefully coughing up knives. It reminds him of pain and hunger and the cold feeling of golden jewelry against his throat, wrists, ears, as the king gilded him in his own stolen words.

And, listening to his rough, growly voice, unable to reach the same soaring heights that it used to—it reminds him that he’ll never be able to sing without pain again, that this thing he loved for so long has been taken from him, dashed to the ground like a cascade of shattered obsidian.

So he doesn’t sing often, even when he’s alone. He only does it when the pain in his chest gets too much to hold silently, or express with words alone. When that happens, he sings to Roach, low and soft, sad, ancient ballads that tug at his soul in the way only music can.

He takes the jewels and tucks them away in Roach’s saddlebag until they reach the next river, and then he throws his songs into the depths and feels a weight peel off his shoulders.

He doesn’t exist for anyone, anymore. He isn’t a source of riches. He’s just a witcher that likes—no, needs—to sing sometimes.

***

Years pass. His brothers grieve with him, when he finally makes it back to Kaer Morhen. Vesemir gives him a hug that lasts at least an hour. They ask him if he wants to sing, but back off when he shakes his head frantically.

The keep feels a lot quieter, these days.

His life feels a lot quieter, these days.

***

Jaskier reminds him a bit too much of himself. Or himself as he used to be, anyway.

He’s bright and cheery and always, always singing. There’s a song for every occasion, somber ones, delightful ones, inappropriately horny ones. Even idle moments, while he’s gathering berries for their dinner or arranging their campfire or polishing his lute, he’s coming up with little ditties to describe what he’s doing. It’s endearing. It’s sweet.

It’s painful.

He remembers when he did the same, humming to his swords as he cleaned them, idly improvising an ode to a dear carcass, coming up with tunes to remember the ingredients for each of his potions (he still sings those in his head, even now, when he’s been making them for decades. Old habits die hard).

There are long stretches, over the first few years of their friendship, where he aches to send Jaskier away. Get him out of his life. Get rid of the reminder of what it was like to sing, painless and clear-voiced and free.

But, for every way Jaskier is like his younger self, there are so many ways that he is different. His compositions are complex, way more complex than anything Geralt ever came up with, and his skill with a lute leaves Geralt breathless every time he hears it. More than that, he is brash and reckless and demanding, where Geralt has always made himself accept what he is given.  Jaskier wants everything from the world, expects everything from the world, greats humanity with a fierce grin and a set jaw and a stubbornness that Geralt finds shocking and awe-inspiring in turn.

After five years with Jaskier, five years of watching him swear at people that treat him and Geralt like they are lesser, five years of letting him talk Geralt into hot, sweet-smelling baths and comfortable sheets and warm clothes, five years of watching him dive headfirst into whatever life throws at him, Geralt thinks he might be in love with him.

Just a little bit.

Maybe a lot.

He really wishes he could still sing that love song.

***

Over the years, the decades, since Geralt’s imprisonment, the story of the jewel-speaker has faded from fact to legend. The story has shifted too, over the years. The protagonist is no longer a witcher, beaten and broken and locked in a tower. Instead, she’s a sweet peasant girl, rewarded for her kindness with the ability to speak flowers and jewels alike, no pain or cruelty mentioned at all. She also has a cruel sister who coughs up snails and frogs. Lambert likes to joke that that’s supposed to be him.

There are quite a few ballads about her, this pretty, happy version of Geralt. They’re jaunty, cheerful tunes, made for entertaining children mostly, and Geralt’s chest aches whenever he hears them. His story, twisted so badly that the jewel-speaker was thankfulfor her gift, helped by it. Never mind the fact that his throat still aches whenever he speaks too much, never mind the fact that he misses singing so badly, never mind the fear that prickles up his spine whenever he sees a shop owner hawking golden jewelry.

The ballads are pretty popular, right up there with the tales of the sleeping princess, and the mermaid princess, and the princess who danced on glass shoes until midnight came. He wonders if any of these heroines are people like him, if any of their stories actually got happy endings. Regardless, they’re well-liked and well-received, so it’s no surprise that Geralt eventually hears Jaskier singing one.

They’ve stopped to camp for the night, and Jaskier is fiddling around with his lute while Geralt sorts out Roach. Jaskier starts plucking out a few opening chords that sends goosebumps prickling over Geralt’s neck, and Geralt fists his hand in Roach’s mane.

It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not personal. Jaskier doesn’t know what this song means to Geralt, because Geralt hasn’t fucking toldhim, even after all these years. Because he’s a thrice-damned coward.

But it still feels like he’s been stabbed, like a piece of glass has gotten caught halfway up his throat and lodged itself there, slicing him to death from the inside.

Jaskier pauses, right after the first chorus. Geralt can feel his eyes burning into the back of his skull.

“Geralt?” he asks. “You okay?”

“Can you play something else?” Geralt says, and hates how weak he sounds.

“Okay,” Jaskier says. “Alright. No problem.”

He starts plucking out Fishmonger’s Daughter and Geralt lets himself relax, lets himself laugh at Jaskier’s exaggerated bleating. It’s okay. He’s okay. He’d asked Jaskier to back off, and he had. Simple as that.

Not for the first time, he finds himself wondering what he did to deserve a friend like Jaskier.

***

The secret comes out eventually. Of course it does. Geralt is a dreadful liar. All it takes is a few songs to Roach, and a saddlebag full of rubies that have not yet been dumped in the river. All it takes is Jaskier coming across them at exactly the wrong time, chattering away about his latest exploits as he walks around Roach’s side with a small bundle of spare clothes.

“So, since Marx obviouslycheated at that competition, I couldn’t let his victory slide, and—”

As engrossed as Geralt is in Jaskier’s ridiculous story, it takes him too long to realize in which bag Jaskier is aiming to deposit his bundle, too long to protest.

“Wait—”

“—so I snuck a live chicken into….his….”

Jaskier trails off, staring into the saddlebag with a dropped jaw.

“Um. Geralt?”

Geralt closes his eyes.

“What are you doing with a royal treasury’s worth of rubies?”

He considers lying. Considers saying it was a contract payment from a very grateful, very rich king. Jaskier’s trade is spreading stories after all, and if this particular one gets around, Geralt’s life will be ruined. Forever. He’ll spend the rest of his days in chains, singing around a shattered throat.

But this is Jaskier. And Geralt knows that, if there’s one thing Jaskier values more than his fame and fortune, it’s his friendships. His friendship with Geralt especially, hard-won and strong as it is. There aren’t many people Geralt could trust with his life. With his freedom. Vesemir, Eskel, Lambert. Yennefer, the one to set him free of this thing in the first place.

And Jaskier.

“I’m throwing them in the nearest river,” he says, truthfully, taking Jaskier’s clothes to put in a different saddlebag.

Jaskier blinks rapidly.

“Why?”

Geralt sighs, and walks back over to his nearly-packed-up campsite. He was just planning on heading out when Jaskier found him.

“Sit down,” he says, settling himself onto a log. Jaskier follows, steps hesitant. “It’s gonna be a long story.”

***

It feels like setting some part of himself free. Some part of himself he never realized was still caged.

***

When the story is over, when Geralt has given up the gift that became a curse, the tower that became a prison, the king that became a corpse, they’re both crying. Sobs hitch from Jaskier’s chest as he reaches for Geralt, his hands trembling.

“Fuck,” he gasps as he tugs Geralt into a hug. “Just…fuck,Geralt, people are the fucking worst.”

“I know,” Geralt laughs weakly.

“I can’t even imagine how hard it was to tell me about that,” Jaskier says. Geralt blinks.

“Wasn’t hard,” he mumbles against Jaskier’s doublet. “I trust you.”

Jaskier tenses in his grip. Geralt feels tears soaking through the fabric of his shirt. He holds Jaskier tighter, closer, letting him shudder and shake against him. Despite himself, a warmth whispers through his chest, a feeling of safety, friendship, love. Jaskier cares about him enough to weep for his long-ago pain.

“I trust you,” he repeats. “There’s no one else I’d rather share this with.”

“Gods,” Jaskier says. “Gods. Thank you, then. Just…thank you.”

Geralt isn’t quite sure what he’s being thanked for.

“You’re welcome,” he says anyway. They cling to each other until Jaskier’s sobs quiet, and then Jaskier pulls back with a watery grin.

“Well,” he says. “There’s monsters to fight and rubies to send to their watery grave. Shall we?”

He doesn’t ask to keep the gems. He doesn’t point out that Geralt could give up the path forever if he wanted, that he’d never need to go hungry again. He doesn’t try to insist that Geralt’s curse is a gift.

The warmth doubles in Geralt’s chest.

“Yeah,” he says with a grin. “We shall.”

***

Two weeks later, they’re sitting around yet another campfire, under yet another grove of trees. Geralt loves nights like this, under the stars, far away from the noise and smells of civilization. Just the two of them.

Jaskier is plucking idly at his lute, but he isn’t singing. His eyes are half-lidded, sleepy. Content.

Geralt thinks of the love song, thinks of how impossibly high it is. Mentally shifts it lower. Lower. Down an octave. He opens his mouth.

For the first time in seventy years, he sings in front of another person.

Jaskier’s fingers stutter on the lute, but he quickly picks his tune back up again, shifting the chords to match Geralt’s voice. His eyes are no longer drooping, but wide open, staring at Geralt with unabashed wonder.

At Geralt. Not at the gems collecting at his feet. He’s watching Geralt. Listening to Geralt’s voice, cracked and raw as it is. A smile spreads across his face, soft and awed, like he’s watching a particularly beautiful sunset.

The last note of the song leaves Geralt’s lips along with a ruby, and Jaskier trails his fingers over the last chord, plucking out the notes one by one, leaving them to shiver in the air. He sets the lute aside and gets to his feet.

“Your voice is beautiful,” he says. “So fucking gorgeous Geralt, I—that was wonderful.”

“It’s not,” Geralt mutters. “It’s all rough and broken and—”

“Warm,” Jaskier says, stepping forward. He kicks aside a sapphire and jumps, looking down in surprise.

“Huh. Forgot that was there.”

A laugh curls in Geralt’s throat. Only Jaskier would forget a priceless treasure beneath his feet to compliment Geralt’s ruined voice.

“Don’t laugh!” Jaskier says, his indignation betrayed by his grin. “It’s easy to forget silly things like that when listening to you sing, it’s all—it’s warm and crackly and rich, like a campfire. Like…like home. It’s beautiful.”

He hesitates, eyes darting back and forth over Geralt’s face.

“You’re beautiful,” he says at last.

Hope whispers through Geralt’s heart. Does he mean….does he want….?

“I love you,” Geralt says, before he can lose his nerve. Jaskier’s breath hitches in his throat.

“I love you too,” he says, voice cracking almost as badly as Geralt’s. “Gods above, I’ve loved you for years.”

He puts his hand on Geralt’s cheek.

“Can I—”

“Yeah,” Geralt says, before he can even finish the question.

And then Jaskier’s lips are on his, gentle, slow, savoring him. Savoring Geralt as a person. Not as a treasure, a jewel, a thing to own.

Geralt closes his eyes and kisses him back.

His voice will never work quite right. There will always be bad days, days where his throat burns and burns and nothing he does can stop it. He’ll never be able to sing like he had before, high and clear and unimpeded.

But Jaskier loves him anyway.

Jaskier grabs a handful of Geralt’s shirt and pulls him backward, towards Jaskier’s bedroll. Geralt goes with him gladly.

They leave the jewels in the dirt.

#geraltwhumpweek #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #My writing #cw torture #cw death