#we never see the gap bridged and there’s some confusing details between them so you could technically just ignore legends

[no1ryomafan]

I be semi back into mega man and I’ve been thinking about why-despite it objectively being more known-it was harder to get people into compared to getter and I think it’s chalked up to the gameplay comes first over any story stuff. MM lore is still insane and a funny rabbit hole to fall into but its not what people think about when they think about this franchise past a basic plot summary, they think about a grueling platformer with freedom to do the stages in any order. But playing all these games, especially if platformers aren’t you thing, doesn’t give you all the lore context given this was a series made in the late 80s and continued up to the 2010s, so pieces of lore were kept to manuals or sometimes even interviews. Sure, a lot of people are use to outside sources for lore, but given how many games there are even if you could pretty much take away the first series out of it to make it seem clearer, you still have to deal with the fact the lord didn’t really pick up until the third platformer because X didn’t know if it wanted to be episodic like classic or actually be more serious- which among other reasons lead it to probably be the messiest series in terms of lore. And then there’s the fact you can’t even recommend someone to read a manga or watch a anime for lore retellings because all of the mangas basically are their own takes of games and anime? Lol despite some games having animated cutscenes the ones who got the anime privilege was the RPG games which everyone in the lore circles always ignore because it’s a separate timeline.

Basically: Mega Man really be “gameplay first, lore bits second” and given I meet a lot of people who don’t play many platformers/are good at them, + the factor there's multiple fucking series which makes it slightly confusing or overwhelming to a outsider, yeah me recommending niche mecha show that’s somewhat convoluted tends to be the better option.

#meg text #mega man #rockman #mm is honestly more of a interest I keep to myself even if I should mention it more #because I don’t want people to think I’m just getter #but it’s kinda hard when- it’s like this lol #it’s not as messy as KH and FNAF in terms of lore but it’s harder to beat those #but it’s main issue is nothing smoothly connects even if within a series context it’s fine to be stand alone #it’s just they never played it or when they did something had to go wrong #looking at you Capcom when you decided to continue mmx after x5 #when the plan was to end it there and tie to zero but this threw a hole into everything #though also recalling how legends wasn’t supposed to be canon but made canon bc of the inti games is funny #we never see the gap bridged and there’s some confusing details between them so you could technically just ignore legends #but then you realize in ZX “oh wait humans are becoming robotic and everyone in legends is human-robot hybrids” #it worked out in their favor compared to other things even if it’s sad will never see it tie perfectly #also on the end subject with the side material the lore fandom needs to stop ignoring BN/SF #it’s especially saddening how much Starforce gets flanked for “not tieing to BN well” when IT HAS A FUCKED UP TIE IN THE FIRST GAME #the scene late game where all the PETs are in a dumpster- that saids so much #but also starforce has interesting lore in itself even if it’s not connected to the main series and vastly different #aliens and em waves are cool you guys just SUCK #I was also gonna add a rant about Capcom and how they did too many series here but this is too many tags

[idiotic-genius]

How to write an immersive scene

requested by @noa-i - check out their blog, they have amazing lists of helpful links to writing guides!

As a writer, it is mostly inevitable to get to the point in writing where you are questioning whether anyone will actually want to read what they have created. A question greatly important to writing something the reader gets hooked up with is: How do I lure them in and make them feel like they are part of something? Sometimes, writing immersive makes THE difference between a scene quick to skip over and a scene you can't take your eyes off. But how do you create immersion?

In this post: 1. Worldbuilding 2. Narrators 3. Writing visually 4. Setting the scene 5. Example to summarize

Step 1: Learn your own facts

It might be banal, since you are the author, to re-read your own notes and think about what you have written so far. However, to get the reader hooked up, make them INTERESTED. This is easily accomplished by creating a detailed fictional world that doesn't seem flat. It might be a tiring process, but it always pays off! Knowing exactly what kind of world your character finds themself in makes it a lot easier to fill in details that subconsciously make the reader believe they are dealing with an actual real-world instead of "just" a fictional one. But even though it may seem harsh, cutting out some details and facts might make the reader feel much more comfortable. Their mind wants to insert them into the universe they're reading about, so overloading them with too many unnecessary details can be just as defeating as giving them too little info. Here is a link to a great beginners-guide on worldbuilding.

Step 2: Know your narrator

As we all know, there are a bunch of different narrator types to pick from when starting a new story, and each of them is good for a different thing- reaching from the typical first-person narrator (The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson) over personal third-person (Warrior Cats, Harry Potter) to omniscient third-person (Anne of Green Gables) and biased third-person (A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy). If you are writing an unbiased third-person narrator in your WIP, you can just skip this step. However, if you have any indication at all in your story as to who the narrator is, you might want to think about this more closely. The narrator is the bridge that connects the reader to the fictional world. To immerse the reader in a book, it's usually easiest to use the first-person narrator or the personal third-person narrator, because that way the reader will either imagine themself as the narrator or as a friend of the main character, which keeps them interested. If your narrator is an actual character in the story, it is necessary to keep their speech and description patterns consistent with themselves and the events of the story. For example, a character narrating that has never visited a school or similar should not use highly scientific words to describe what's going on, etc, because it will interrupt the reader's reading flow and disturb the immersion just as much as time skips do.

Step 3: Writing visually

After making sure you have the narrator and the world they're in all set, it's time to choose a writing style, more specifically, to decide the visuality of it. What I mean by that is that having a fictional world so flat it's boring is just as bad as not describing it in a way that delivers it in the way it deserves to be delivered. Picture it like this: Every scene starts in a white room, with neither windows nor doors. If you as the writer don't describe what is going on in that room and what it looks like, at best while keeping the narrator's character in mind while doing so (to make it "3D"), the reader will never know what is actually happening. This also includes adapting the length and complexity of sentences to the scene: In a combat scene, you will usually find short and cut-throat sentences to represent the intensity and living-in-the-moment mindset of a fight, however, in a meaningful conversation between two characters about a heavy subject, it's more likely that longer and more complex sentences are of use to mirror the narrator's deep thinking of the subject and their concentration on the conversation.

Step 4: Setting the scene

By setting the scene, you fill in this white room in the reader's mind, adding characters, sounds, furniture, windows, and scenery in general, while still leaving space for the reader to fill in the blanks. To find a middle between these two extremes is up to every individual writer and depends on the writing style. If you over-describe the room, the reader will know every detail about it, but it will take away their focus from what is actually happening in the scene. However, if you don't set the scene at all, the reader automatically makes up what the room might look like based on what they imagine, and then breaks out of the immersion as soon as you mention something, later on, to be in the room that they did not picture. For example, if you just say that A enters B's bedroom, the reader might quite as well imagine there to be small windows, some bookshelves, a standard bed, etc. If you don't set that up right in the beginning and later on mention that B has small windows, the books stacked on the floor, a bunch of plants, an aquarium, and a bunk bed, the reader will get confused because it doesn't fit what they had pictured before. So ask yourself: What is so important that the reader should know it before the scene actually starts? Context also matters in that case.

5. Example

In the following, I will write the same scene multiple times in different styles to illustrate what makes a difference in writing immersion. The scene goes as following: Jae falls into a dark room underground with a hooded, mysterious person waiting for him. The hooded person greets him and lights a candle, and in the emitting light, Jae realizes who he is talking to. Remember: These are more caricatures of the different writing styles than actual representation and are very overexaggerated, but you get the idea.

1. first-person narrator (Jae), scene not set properly, no visual writing, no consistency in speech pattern

After three seconds, I landed on something soft and realized I had landed in a chamber underground, slightly lit by the moonlight above me. I walked through the only doorway and found myself in a second room. A hooded figure in the middle of the dark lifted their arm. From the table beside them, they picked up a candle and lit it using a lighter. "Hello, Jae", they said, and in the newly emitting light, I recognized them in front of the fireplace.

-> feels flat and jumpy, gives no significance to the change of scenery

2. biased third-person narrator, scene set properly, overly descriptive visual writing, consistency in speech pattern

After falling for what felt like an hour, even though it was probably just a few seconds, Jae finally landed on something soft. Before even attempting to get up, he shivered at the fresh memory of what slimy, earthy, suddenly appearing tunnels felt like. He stared up through the hole at the moon and the stars, and immediately recognized the constellation of Cassiopeia, high up above him. Cassiopeia is said to have angered the Gods, so they gave her the gift of divination, but made it so that nobody would ever believe her prophecies, finally banning her into the sky as this constellation. Weirdly enough, the stars' pattern doesn't look like a woman, or a human, at all. Jae slowly stood up from where he landed and realized he had fallen onto a rather big cushion with a print of primroses in yellow, pink, red, and blue. He looked around in my new location and found himself stuck in a small portico with no windows at all and only one doorway. The walls seemed just as dirty and muddy as the tunnel he had fallen through, and as he looked closer, he spotted about a dozen small, pink worms slithering through the soil. The floor on the other hand was made out of dark wooden panels- if you wanted to call it a "floor". The pieces were just loosely stuck onto the earth underneath, and mud squeezed out from the gaps in between. Jae slowly walked over them and reached the doorway after just four steps. He saw a hooded figure standing in the center of the next room. The room had two sources of lighting: One, the moonlight shining through the disgusting tunnel, and two, a crackling fireplace. It looked like it belonged in a small cottage, being made out of red bricks and looking a little old with the small black-and-white pictures put on top of it. The flickering orange glim of the fire met the silvery-white shine of the moon in the middle of the room. On the right side, Jae saw a big old round table made out of similar wood as the floorboards outside. There were obvious scratches on it, some made by smaller knives, others bigger and maybe made by swords, with splinters on their edges. Apart from two, the fours chairs around it seemed just as maltreated, but the two others were polished and reflected the two light sources, with no scratch marks at all. On top of the table rested a metal candlestick with one slightly burned-down candle stuck inside it. The candlestick had a few scratches as well, on the side and at the bottom. "Hello, Jae", the figure said snarkily, with a voice deep and rough like sandpaper. They wore a black cape, smooth on what Jae could see of the inside and rough on the outside, with a big hood covering their hair and most of their face. A few of the blue buttons with a golden pentagram engraved on them were missing from the coat, and it was slightly ripped in a few places. One strand of dark hair fell into the person's eyes as they reached out for the candlestick, lighting the candle inside with a silver zippo-lighter. The lighter had small scratches as well as a few symbols on it. Slowly, the flame grew bigger and bigger, until the shine from below reached the figure's face. Jae's eyes went big as he realized who he was talking to.

-> little place for the reader's fantasy, but details make scenery deeper and less flat. This kind of description does make sense if the narrator/the character the narrator fixates on (Jae in this case) is very observant and/or intelligent because they will notice details that others don't. The question is whether those details are important enough to keep in the story.

3. first-person narrator (Jae), scene set properly, visual writing, consistent speech pattern

After what felt like an eternity of falling and silently begging not to die from the impact, I finally landed with my eyes squeezed shut. Okay, legs, arms, and head still in place... I slowly opened my eyes again, realizing I had landed on a soft pillow with a flower print. Cautiously, I got up, gazing up at the tunnel through which I had fallen. The view of the slimy earth made me shiver involuntarily as I blinked against the bright moonlight far above me. The sky was clear enough to see stars, which could have been far more enjoyable if it hadn't been for my miserable situation. I had landed in a small chamber underground, with a single doorway leading into a bigger room. The walls were just pure earth and seemed to swallow all noise, but when I took the first step, the sounds of my shoes on the dark wooden floorboards and of the mud squishing out from beneath them was louder than I had anticipated. I could hear the crackling of fire from the next room and see the orange glow as I made my way over to the doorway and took a glimpse into it. The room was not very big, but also not as small as the one I had landed in. There wasn't much space because of a wooden round table and four chairs, which all seemed very old and maltreated, judging from the scratches on them. I could make out a few pictures on the fireplace, and in front of that- "Hello, Jae." I had to suppress a gasp as I realized that I was not alone. In the middle of the room, right where the silvery moonlight and the orange glow of the fire met, stood a hooded figure. Their coat looked as old as the few pieces of furniture, with missing buttons and rips. I couldn't make out much of their face, even though I squinted my eyes, but the flickering light made it hard to see anything, let alone recognize. But that voice... Before I could come to a conclusion, the figure reached for a metal candlestick standing on the table and lit the candle inside with a silver lighter. As the flame grew bigger, they dispelled the shadows below the hood that had disguised the person's features before. I could feel my eyes get big as I finally realized who was standing before me.

-> Gives enough information to "fill the white room" without dwelling on details too much, shows the context of the story, gives Jae a consistent personality

So that's it for this post! I hope I managed to pass on a thing or two that I learned while researching and that this post will help you with your writing. Please acknowledge, I am not trying to attack anyone's style of writing!! If you write the way I wrote a "non-immersive" scene, it does NOT mean that your writing style is bad, let alone wrong, because the existence of many different writing styles is what keeps it individual and interesting! Find your own way and let nobody get you down :)

#writing #writing prompts #writing tips #writing advice #story prompt #fanfiction #writers on tumblr #writing inspiration #immersion #writing immersion #immersive writing #story tips #how to write #tutorial #tips #request

[jaskierswolf]

The Love We Have

Part 4/5 - AO3 - Previous - Next

Summary: Kaer Morhen has an old tradition in order to keep the witchers safe after the siege. Only witchers and their partners are allowed in the keep but Geralt is tired of parting with Jaskier over the winter so decides to invite him to Kaer Morhen… only he forgets to mention one tiny little detail.

Ship: Geraskier

Rating: T

CW: Mentions of sex and implied sexual content

_______

“What?!” Geralt stared at Jaskier, who had one hand on his hips and the other flailing through the air like a wet fish. The last hour had been a whirlwind of emotions and Geralt was struggling to keep up. First, Eskel and Lambert’s teasing over Jaskier, which had practically given away his true feelings, and then Jaskier running off to his room, stinking of fear and regret… now this? Whatever this was supposed to be.

“We’ll tell the others that I was just being dramatic, I’m a bard after all,” Jaskier explained, a picture of nonchalance as he flicked his hand in the air, seemingly oblivious to Geralt’s inner crisis.

They stared at each other, both stubborn as mules, neither willing to back down, until Geralt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You have got to be joking.”

“Nope!” Jaskier trilled, popping the ‘p’ and winking at Geralt as if he didn’t have a care in the world. The bard’s mood swings were difficult to keep up with on the best of days but Geralt felt like he was stuck in a storm, not too dissimilar to the burst of magic that Pavetta had created all those years ago. He couldn’t move forward. He couldn’t move back. No, he was just a boat on the waves, being pulled by the currents of Jaskier’s tide.

“Fuck,” Geralt grumbled, not quite believing that he was about to agree to this. “Fine. How do we do this?”

Jaskier glanced at the bed. “Is it squeaky?”

“What?”

“The bed? Is it squeaky?”

This was ridiculous, but it was too late to back out now. He’d started this after all, dragging Jaskier all the way up this godforsaken mountain, to a crumbly keep in the middle of a harsh winter. The least he could do was let Jaskier have his fun. He would just have to hope that he didn’t get aroused and make it awkward for both of them. Well, Geralt supposed he could just blame it on the circumstances and weather the inevitable teasing from the bard. “No,” he admitted.

“So… how much will they be able to hear?” Jaskier asked, cocking his head, his hand still resting on his hip in a way that was just so entirely Jaskier.

“What?”

“Gods, Geralt. It’s like blood from a stone! Vesemir said witchers have good hearing. So our conversation now? Is that safe from prying ears?”

Geralt frowned, focussing his witcher senses. The extra set of mutagens had given him an edge over the others and from their room he could just about hear a faint murmur of voices but he couldn’t make out any words, or even who was talking. So he nodded. “We’re fine.”

“And what if we start shouting?”

“Less fine.”

Jaskier smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes as his tongue flicked out between his teeth, dragging along his lips slowly. Geralt was entranced. The air grew heavy between them and Geralt felt as if Jaskier was trying to seduce him for real, not for some silly game to trick the other witchers. A heat pooled in his core as Jaskier’s eyes roamed over his body, the same way they did when Jaskier was trying to lure some unexpecting fool into his bed.

Only now Geralt was the fool.

And it was working.

“What about moaning?” Jaskier purred, closing the gap between them, his hands splayed on Geralt’s chest. The bard’s gaze kept flicking down to Geralt’s lips, his fingers trailing along the crevices of Geralt’s heavy jumper.

Geralt swallowed, his mouth feeling too dry. What the fuck was Jaskier trying to acheive? The idiot had definitely said pretend to have sex… hadn’t he?

“Jask,” he murmured, a low warning. This had gone on long enough, and Geralt’s control was beginning to crumble. He wanted nothing more than to take the bard into his arms, to kiss that stupid grin off his face. To wreck those pretty lips that had teased him with every lick for years, with no idea of how badly it was affecting him.

“Yes, darling?” Jaskier whispered, standing so close that his breath was tickling, warm against Geralt’s skin.

The sweet scent of arousal was wafting off of the bard in waves, making Geralt feel heady, and the world seemed to fade around them until it was just the pair of them. It reminded him of their first kiss, a trial unlike any other in Geralt’s life, one to see whether they’d even have a chance of pulling off this crazy scheme, just because they hadn’t wanted to be parted for winter.

Because Geralt hadn’t wanted to be parted for winter. Every year they separated, Geralt felt like he was leaving a little more of his soul behind until he couldn’t bear it anymore. Rather than admitting the truth to Jaskier, and actually confessing his feelings, he’d been a coward. So they were pretending to be in love. Chaste kisses, fake touches, lies.

It was all lies.

By gods, he wanted it to be real.

He took a deep breath through his mouth, trying to clear his head of Jaskier’s scent. “How do we fake it?”

Jaskier’s flirtatious facade dropped, for barely a second but Geralt still saw it. He knew the bard too well to miss the subtle change in his expression, but Jaskier was an expert, a trained actor, and he masked his mistake well. For anyone else it would have worked. He plastered a grin on his face, clearing his throat as he stood back away from Geralt. Ringed fingers patted awkwardly on Geralt’s chest as the distance grew between them. “Fake it, yes. Well, I was. I was thinking some jumping on the bed, moaning, grunting, maybe some dirty talk,” Jaskier laughed, waggling his eyebrows in a way that was completely ridiculous but unbearably endearing, and Geralt wanted Jaskier back in his space. The distance was too much.

And then an idea struck him. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, tilting his head and smirking at the bard. “Won’t work.”

“Oh yeah, and how would you know?”

“I told you, we can smell it.”

“Smell… sex?”

“Yes.”

Jaskier’s eyes went wide, a bright pink flush colouring his cheeks. His mouth dropped open as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Ah. Right then… well, umm. We don’t. We don’t have to…”

“They’ll wonder why, you said yourself,” Geralt murmured, once again closing the gap between them, cupping Jaskier’s cheek and running his thumb through the bristles of stubble on his jaw. The bard seemed to freeze under his touch, staring back at Geralt, his mouth dropped open, and that crackling spark between them was back, licking across Geralt’s skin. His heart felt like it was caught in his throat, a flicker of anxiety squeezing in his chest. It would be hard to explain this as just friendly banter should Jaskier reject him now.

“You want to?”

Geralt tilted his head. “Do you want to?”

Jaskier barked a laugh, his fingers flexing and coming back to gripped at Geralt’s clothes. “Only if you want to. Oh for Melitele’s sake!”

The bard crashed their lips together in a kiss, his fingers cupping the nape of Geralt’s neck, holding him close. Geralt moaned into Jaskier’s mouth as his lips parted, allowing Geralt’s tongue to slip against his. One of Jaskier’s hands trailed down Geralt’s spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake, until the bard’s fingers gripped Geralt’s arse, pressing their bodies together. Arousal and lust filled the air around them in a cloud, sweet and intoxicating, more addictive than any drug. Geralt groaned into the kiss, breaking their lips apart so Jaskier could breathe, but never letting his lips leave Jaskier’s skin that was warm and salty on his tongue. He pressed kisses along Jaskier’s jaw, nuzzling his nose into the bard’s neck as he breathed in that delicious scent, sweet chamomile and an underlying musk. Jaskier whimpered, the sound creating a quiver of vibrations in his throat, tingling against Geralt’s lips.

“Geralt,” Jaskier breathed, the name; a prayer as it rolled off his tongue, a whisper in the otherwise silent room. Geralt had never heard his name said in such a reverent manner, like he was all that mattered in the world. It was almost too much.

Witchers don’t feel.

Witchers can’t feel.

Witchers can’t fall in love.

Well, it seemed Geralt hadn’t gotten that memo when he was going through the trials. He loved, and he was so in love with this idiot that was in his arms.

Love.

Sweeter than honey.

Jaskier’s scent.

Geralt pulled back with a start, staring frantically at the bard as if he could figure everything out just by looking in those gorgeous cornflower blue eyes. It was no use, Jaskier was pouting up at him, confused and a little hurt, but there was no trace of love… not that Geralt knew what he was looking for. People looked at him with horror, fear, occasionally lust but never love. Would he even be able to tell?

“Geralt?”

“Fuck.”

Jaskier cupped his cheek, blue eyes searching and panicked. “Geralt, what’s going on? I’m not Yennefer, I can’t… I can’t read your mind. You need to talk to me, please.”

After taking a long breath, Geralt closed his eyes. “I-I… fuck.”

Jaskier’s fingers on his cheek moved, brushing a lock of hair behind Geralt’s ears, and there was a soft press of lips against his, gentle and grounding. Before it could get heated, Jaskier pulled away, resting his forehead against Geralt’s, and Geralt covered Jaskier’s hand with his own. The mood shifting from something hot and burning to something all the more intense, intimate. “It’s okay, dear heart, I understand.”

“But--”

“I love you too, Geralt,” Jaskier whispered, his breath hot against Geralt’s lips, and he said it so confidently, without any fear. There was no way those words could be taken any other way. Jaskier was in love with him.

Jaskier was in love with him.

Actually in love with him.

They were alone, no need to pretend or act or lie. This was all real, and Geralt suddenly understood why people said they were on top of the world. He felt invincible, with this delicate flower, so mortal and breakable, by his side. He could take on the most fearsome of monsters and be absolutely fine, as long as Jaskier loved him.

And that made him feel unreasonably angry. All the lies he’d been fed as a child. Love was a weakness to be exploited.

No.

Love was his strength, his greatest weapon.

“Geralt, darling…” Jaskier’s voice, low and warm like a summer’s day, snapped him from his thoughts. “I adore you but, but… can you let go?”

Geralt growled, blinking as he focussed back into the room. His fingers were digging into Jaskier’s hips, and judging by the look on the bard’s face, he was hurting him. “Shit, sorry.”

Thankfully, Jaskier just laughed, a beautiful musical sound that made warmth blossom in Geralt’s chest. “Oh darling, what is going on in there?” A long finger tapped Geralt right in the middle of his forehead, and then Jaskier placed a hand on his hip and cocked his head, a pout playing on his lips.

“Hmm, pondering on the subject of love.”

“Oh, ho, ho!” Jaskier giggled. “We shall make a poet out of you yet, witcher! And what is it about love that has got you all grumpy and scary face?”

“Witchers don’t love,” Geralt repeated the familiar words, though now they felt empty and bitter on his tongue.

Jaskier scoffed. “And yet… only significant others are allowed to Kaer Morhen? That’s still a load of bollocks, you know. As if our decades-long friendship isn’t more important than a quick summer fling.”

“But you love me.”

“Ah yes, but… oh shush. You know what I mean, Geralt!”

Geralt chuckled. “Hmm.”

“You. are. Terrible!” Jaskier snapped, clearly starting to spiral into one of his moods, but Geralt had a better idea. He scooped Jaskier up into his arms and over his shoulder in one swift movement. “Oi!”

“You talk too much.”

“And yet, you love me,” Jaskier trilled happily “Now, take me to bed, witcher. I think we’ve both waited long enough.”

Geralt chuckled, throwing Jaskier down onto the bed. The bard squeaked as he bounced on the mattress but soon regained his composure, tongue slipping between his lips as he gazed up at Geralt with a smirk. He looked beautiful, clothes already a mess and his hair tousled from their kisses and his own habit of messing it up when he got anxious. His cheeks were still a little blotchy from the earlier tears but there was no denying his beauty… almost elf like in his elegance. Geralt felt like he could stare at his bard for hours and never grow bored of the sight, but he was allowed to touch now, and that was just too tempting. Years of restraint, and now the chains were broken. He crawled onto the bed, resting between Jaskier’s spread legs and pressed their lips together, slow and lazy.

They had all night after all.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #kaer morhen #fake dating #wolfie’s witcher writing

[clouditae]

First Love | 16

Yoongi x reader | 18+ | college au | tattoo artist au | angst | fluff | smut | oral | fingering

Word: 6.3k

You first saw him in the multi-purpose room. Later learn his name, and on your third year, as he becomes your neighbor, you discover his lifestyle. Knowing your crush on him was nothing but that, you wanted to find the courage to look for love. Asking your friend for help, you’re pointed in the direction of the expert. Your neighbor, Min Yoongi

Chapter Index

You stare at the two story house as if it’s your own home. The red brick walls and white shingles–it’s like your typical house you see in movies. You and Hanbin have been together for eight months and you’ve been over to his house for two months now. His parents and siblings love you. Every time you’re over they’re asking if you’d like to stay for dinner or if you’d like to play family game night together. You would always stay and have dinner or play games even though you knew you were supposed to check in to your hotel room.

They always seemed to distract you and then you’d take their spare bedroom instead of heading to your already bought room. Eventually you just stayed at their place rather than find a hotel.

Today is different in a way. You’re staying at his place as usual, but today Hanbin’s family isn’t home, leaving just you two alone for the weekend. You’re nervous. Why? Because after almost three months of things getting heated between the two of you, you’re wondering if this weekend will be the weekend you lose your virginity to him. It makes you nervous and scared, but you trust him. You wouldn’t want to lose your flower to anyone but him. The man who makes you feel loved, cherished and so protected that you feel like you can go anywhere with him and not be scared of the “monsters” that lurk out in this world.

You walk up to the door with Hanbin after going out to grab some dinner for the movie you’re going to watch in his bedroom. “It’s a scary movie,” he said, and although you like scary movies, you still get scared during the movie and at night when you go to bed and let your thoughts take over. If he’s going to make you watch a scary movie close to night time, he better be ready for you to sleep in his bed with him and against the wall because you are not sleeping alone.

You wait as he unlocks the door, bag in hand and drinks in yours. With the familiar sound of a click from the door, he turns the knob and opens the door, allowing you to enter first. You walk inside the house and further down until you’re standing near the entry ways of the living room and kitchen. Hanbin closes the door behind him and locks it, turning to you with a sweet smile as he walks along with you up the stairs and down the hallway towards his bedroom at the end of the hall.

“I’m so excited,” Hanbin says, the tone in his husky voice showing excitement as well. “I heard No One’s Home is the best horror ghost film this year.” You can’t help but shiver and he seems to notice as he chuckles. “I’ll hold you real close, Y/N. You can your face in my arms.” You smile, feeling your heartbeat quicken. The two of you enter his room and he closes it behind you, following you as you make your way towards his black sofa that is against his wall on the right side of the room.

The room is rather simple but expensive looking. Standing at the doorway, the bed is immediately to your left against the wall, his desk with an expensive computer was at the end of his bed. Black sheets and a gray blanket with a worn stuffed elephant placed in between the two pillows–a stuffed animal he’s had since he was a baby. Along the wall with the sofa is a dresser with little knick-knacks he’s collected over the years along with a few trophies he’s won from his baseball tournaments. At the back far wall is Hanbin’s wall mounted television, underneath is a long bookshelf full of figurines, photos of his friends and family and books on film. On his off white colored walls are photos from movies such as The Godfather, Casablanca and more well known movies.

You take a seat on the sofa, placing the drink on the dark wood coffee table as Hanbin does the same with the food. As you get everything ready you can hear Hanbin get to work setting up the projector placed on a floating shelf above you, ready to project on the empty wall where the bed was against. You place his drink and order in front of the empty spot where he will sit, opening the box and putting the straw into his cup before doing the same for yourself. Once everything is ready and the movie is starting, you watch as Hanbin grabs a remote off from the coffee table, pressing a button and the lights dimming just enough for it to be dark but to still be able to see the food in front of you.

And so you two dig in, the movie already starting with a woman screaming.

You bury your face into Hanbin’s shoulder, earning another laugh from him as the intruder breaks the window to enter the house. He rubs your thigh that was on his lap with his thumb, his other hand holding you closer. “I didn’t know I’d date a scaredy cat when I asked you out.” You shake your head, not wanting to hear the struggle of whatever is happening. He chuckles, his body vibrating from his laughter, giving you a sense of peace from the fear that is hovering over you. He places a kiss on the side of your head, resting his cheek against you. You turn your head to the side, your forehead pressed against his cheek as you focus on the sound of his breathing. Closing your eyes, you enjoy the feeling of him. The feeling of his arms wrapped securely around you, his thumbs rubbing small circles on you, his slow breathing, and his heartbeat.

You move your head back to look at him, watching him as his attention goes from the movie to you. He looks down at you, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What?” Releasing one hand from around his waist, you cup his cheek and lean forward, watching him fill in the gap between you two. He kisses you like he kissed you that first time in front of your dorm room. He’s slow, cautious with you, as if he’s waiting for you to give him the okay. It’s what you like about him, he always puts you first.

You kiss him harder, with more greed as you feel him comply, his tongue brushing along your lower lip for access. You let him enter, his tongue brushing along yours as he shifts on the sofa and lays you on the couch as he places himself on top. He places his hand on the armrest to the sofa, the other finding its way to cup your cheek. You let your hand run through his locks as your other hand clutches onto his maroon colored shirt.

He continues to kiss you for a while longer, his lips making their way to your neck a few times before he breaks the kiss and pulls back. “We should probably stop,” he says, resting on his knees between your legs. The first time the two of you got into the moment, his hand brushed along the skin of your hip, scaring you a bit. You’re nervous and unsure and end the moment in an instant. Thankfully he understood and wasn’t hurt by your sudden reaction. However, it continued every time the two of you got caught up, and sometimes you wondered if he was getting irritated by it.

But he wasn’t. He always reassured you that it’s okay to feel that way. You weren’t ready at the time.

Today, however, you’re ready. You’re more than ready.

You sit up, bringing your legs under you as you get to your knees and almost to his height. You shake your head, cupping his cheeks and kissing him once more. You feel him hesitate at first, unsure if this is what you really want, but you have to let him know. You have to let him know you’re ready. Grabbing his hands, you place them on your hips, this time brushing your tongue along his bottom lip. He seems to understand what you’re trying to say, his grip on your hips tightening, his greed he lost coming back to life.

Your hands travel down from his cheeks to the hem of his shirt, trying to push it up and off of him. He releases his grip on you and helps you, quickly removing his shirt. Letting the shirt fall to the floor, he kisses you again; you let your hands roam his toned stomach, feeling every line of his abs. They’re hard even when he’s not flexing. A sign he’s clearly worked out a lot.

You feel his hands reach for your shirt, but he’s hesitant. Unsure if it’s what you want, so you grab your shirt and pull it off yourself. Feeling your heart race and the fear consume you as you realize you don’t have a shirt anymore. You’re topless in front of your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend. He’s not a stranger. He’s not someone you’re hooking up with. He’s someone you’re going to make love with. Someone who was so shy in asking you to be his girlfriend that he asked you to be his wife on accident because of the show you two were watching. You never laughed so hard. He’s your boyfriend. He won’t see you any different.

That’s what you have to tell yourself as you remove your hands from over your body, letting him see you. He holds your cheeks, bringing your gaze back up to him. He gives you a soft kiss. A warm and caring kiss. “Are you sure?” he asks in a whisper, his lips brushing along yours.

You swallow and nod. “I’m ready,” you mumble back, looking into his hazel colored eyes.

He nods back, kissing you slow and delicately like you can break any minute, and you feel like you can. You feel his hands travel down carefully until he reaches your sides. He feels the curve of your hips, the side of your bra but never your chest. You want to move his hands there, but you’re too scared to move your own hands from his chest. You’ll just have to let him take his time.

He breaks the kiss again, and not just a few inches, but far enough that you can see the details to his facial features. The mole on the bridge of his nose, his long lashes, and so much more but he doesn’t give you the chance as he wraps an arm around your waist and the other at the back of your thighs, lifting you off the couch. You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, watching as he takes a few steps around the coffee table and towards the bed. He climbs onto the bed before lying you down, his body hovering over yours once again.

He places himself between your legs as he kisses you this time with more need than the last. His hand is on your stomach, trailing small circles around your belly button. You shiver under his touch. The kissing continues with your tongues dancing around one another as you find yourself getting a little more confident as you trail your hands down to the beginning of his pants. He doesn’t let you continue as his hand travels up to the fabric of your bra. Your hands stop, body a little tense again as he let’s a finger trail between the valley of your breasts. He plays around your breasts, waiting for you to relax a bit, and when you finally do, you realize your heart is going to explode. He finally places a hand on your boob, waiting a few before he squeezes lightly.

It feels strange if you’re going to be honest. You’ve never been groped before so you’re unsure as to what it should feel like. Maybe because you have the bra on that it’s weird? If you took off your bra would things feel better? Even though you’re beyond scared, you arch your back as a sign for him to remove your last top clothing article. He takes the hint and his hand goes to your back, struggling a little before he unclasps your bra. He kisses his way back down to your neck, licking and sucking as his hand comes out from under you and makes its way under your loose article. His hand is warm as he takes a light hold of your flesh. He squeezes and it still feels strange.

He plays with your nipple, moving it in small circular motions and even pinching it. It feels slightly nice as he  bites your neck. He flicks it and you can’t help but jerk at the sudden motion, but you want him to do it again. You want him to take away the bra so that it’s not in the way.

“Hanbin,” you mutter, catching his attention. You grab your bra and pull it off you, feeling your face go red as you toss it across the room. His eyes travel down from your eyes to your naked top. Leaning down you feel the butterflies explode as he kisses just above your nipple. He kisses below it, kissing around them before he takes one into his mouth. It’s warm and different as he swirls his tongue around, sucking the tip and your body reacts, arching your back for him to take more.

You’ve touched your breasts in a sensual way before, but you didn’t feel this aroused as you do now with Hanbin touching you the way you did. You want him to continue on for who knows how long. You just want to be in this euphoria for as long as you can be before you face–

He grinds himself against your core, your breath hitching from the sudden movement. He does it again, a little rougher as he switches breasts. There’s another intake as you feel the pressure between both your clothed cores. You open your legs wider for him, wanting to feel him grind against you again, and he does. Grinding your own hips to meet the small friction happening between the two of you, Hanbin takes your now hardened nipple between his teeth and bites, pulling it just enough to earn a small moan from you.

As if he couldn’t take it anymore, Hanbin sits up and works on unbuttoning your jeans, you’re just as eager to help. He pulls down your pants and takes them off before they disappear behind him and leaves you now in just your underwear. He looks down to your womanhood, his finger traveling to the fabric. He lets it slide over the silk, his fingers brushing lightly but still causing your body to react from the sudden touch.

He meets your gaze, eyes full of lust that you can’t look away. You feel his finger again, pressing harder so that his fingers traveled between your lips and stopped at your bud where he forms a circular motion. You take in a deep breath never realizing how wet you already were from the few minutes of what he’s done to you. You can’t help but wonder what he feels, but you don’t have to think hard as you can see it in his eyes and the obvious bulge in his pants.

“Ah,” you quietly let out, body twitching from the pleasure you’re getting. Your breathing is slightly uneven as you take a handful of his blanket in your hands. “Hanbin,” you whisper, watching his finger the entire time while he watches you.

Maybe he understands what your body is telling him but your mind isn’t processing because he removes his finger from your bud and grabs the band of your pantie, removing it slowly and off you. Watching him scoot back and lean forward, you can’t help but imagine the first time this happened. The first time you experienced oral sex was when you had your eyes closed and you were lying on Yoongi’s bed as he held your legs open and–

You shake your head, no longer wanting to remember him. He’s not in your life anymore. You haven’t seen him in almost two months–you really haven’t seen him since that night when you had your double date with Ari and Hoseok. When Sam left his bedroom…

Your moan is louder, body pulling back and your back arching as you feel Hanbin run his tongue between your folds. You feel his arms wrap around your thighs, his hands holding them open as he continues his rhythm of a few licks between before going to swirl around your bud, sucking lightly. Your toes curl at the sensation as his hot breath hits your warmth as he creates your fourth orgasm, the building up becoming too much that your body shakes as you see the white stars and the build up burst.

You can feel your skin turning sticky from the sweat that built up from the heat slowly rising the room. The afternoon sun shining through the window, making Hanbin’s skin glow as he sits up, looking down at you. He looks sexy. His jet black hair sticking to his forehead from his own sweat, his toned body glistening as well, and the bulge more evident than before. Just like that first time in Yoongi’s room–your mind refuses to think but rather listens to your body as you get to your knees, kissing him again and your hands traveling to his pants.

You don’t hesitate this time as you unbuckle the belt to his pants, working on his button before finally zipping the zipper down. You don’t pull down his pants but let your hand go in and feel his length. It pulses from under his boxers and it’s hard, the tip leaving a small gap between the band and his pelvis. You grip his member, hearing an intake of his breath as you follow the length up and down. He grabs one cheek of your behind with one hand while the other goes down in between you two, his fingers finding its way to your bead again.

His breathing is ragged as you palm him, feeling his length radiate heat through the fabric as you suppress a moan as he rubs your own heat. Your tongues dance around one another as you finally bring your hand inside his last clothing article, feeling the skin of his penis. It’s warm and pulses in your hand as you do what…

You push that memory back as you let your hand do what it did that day, forgetting the person you practiced on. He moans into your mouth as you rub your finger on his tip, feeling a sticky substance coming from his slit. “Pre cum,” Ari told you when describing the male penis to you. Who knew having a friend open to talking about sex can help you now.

You can’t take it any longer as you feel the familiar high coming as you remove your hand from his pants and use both to push them to pull down his pants and off him. His hand leaves yours and he hops off the bed and removes his pants and boxers in one motion. You stare at his erect member, swallowing at the size of it. It looks big–bigger than Yoongi’s. You can’t stop the fear taking over as you think of that entering you. It’s going to hurt. It’s going to hurt so much.

As if sensing your fear, Hanbin climbs back onto the bed, cups your cheeks and brings your gaze up to him. “It won’t hurt like you think it will, Y/N. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you’re ready, and when you know you’re ready, you tell me and then we’ll try. If you’re not ready today, we don’t have to do it,” he reassures, his voice soft and filling you up with warmth.

You nod, feeling a bit more at ease as he kisses you once, twice, and then you’re lost in his lips. His hands travel down, feeling the curve of your body until he’s back to rubbing your clit, bringing back the feeling once again. You can’t help but bring your own hands back to his, feeling it pressed up against your stomach as you rub it between your hand and stomach. He moans into your mouth as you do the same, feeling the need to do more for him. Grabbing his sex, you bring it down, opening your legs wider as you move his hand away and place it between your folds, remembering how you did it with–no. Stop.

Hanbin breaks the kiss and looks down between you two before looking back up at you. “Please move,” you mumble. feeling already sensitive from him pressed against you. He pulls back, climbing off the bed again. You’re confused as you watch him make his way to his dresser, opening the first drawer, digging around for a second before pulling out a plastic wrapper and a black bottle. He comes back to you, tossing the condom on the bed completely forgetting about it as he focuses on the bottle, opening it and pouring a clear liquid substance onto his open palm. Closing the lid and dropping it next to the forgotten condom, he rubs it between his hands before coating his staff with it.

You realize it’s lube.

He makes his way back to you on the bed, on his knees in front of you as he nods, grabbing his rod and putting it back between you. It’s cold and you can’t stop the gasp escaping past your lips as you go still, waiting for your body to get used to the sudden change in temperature. “Sorry,” he mumbles, voice low and uneven as if he’s trying to stop himself from coming already. After a few seconds of deep breaths from him, he moves, his erection sliding along your vagina. You gasp, feeling the familiar pleasure you feel that day coming back. You close your legs, trapping him between you as he moves, a groan leaving him.

He keeps his pace slow-like as you feel the heat between the two of you grow. “Faster.” You want to feel him–feel him move at a fast pace that you can’t keep still. He complies with your request, capturing your lips as his thrusts become more quick. He glides against you so quickly and with ease as you feel your high grow more and more. The two of you are groaning into each other’s mouths as his thrusts are faster and harder, his pelvis hitting your own that if you weren’t desperate for him to go harder, you would feel the pain ten times more than you do right now. He wraps his arm around your waist to hold you still as he pounds against you.

You pull away, gasping and choking on a moan as you clutch onto him, wanting to become undone so badly. Hanbin stops moving, letting go of your waist as he instructs, “Lie down on your back.” You do as told, feeling your skin peel apart from each other as you lie on your back, looking up at him. He scoots closer to you, placing his sex between your folds again before grabbing your legs closing them and trapping him between them. You bend your knees close to your chest as you feel him move again, his grip on your ankles tightening immediately as he begins to pant.

The moans come back, your hands clutching onto his blanket. You’re close this time. Coming close a lot faster than you were earlier. Maybe it’s the angle, or it’s how he can thrust faster without having to be blocked, but your toes curl, back arching into an uncomfortable position as your body shakes, the long awaited orgasm finally coming undone. You can tell Hanbin’s rhythmic thrusts are uncertain now as he groans louder and a curse leaving his lips as he stills and a warm substance lands just below your belly button.

He releases his grip on your ankles, your legs falling like jelly onto the bed and Hanbin resting his hands on either side of you, his head resting against your shoulder. The two of you breath heavily as the sunlight barely filters through the trees, the room almost completely engulfed in darkness as the ceiling lights had turned off when you finished eating. “I wasn’t expecting that,” he mutters, his breath hitting your collar bone.

He brings his head up to look into your eyes, his hazel eyes glistening from the dim sunlight, black hair sticking to his forehead. You reach a hand up and brush the strands away. “Can we keep going?” you ask, voice barely a whisper, but he hears you loud and clear.

His brows rise. “You want to continue?” You give a slow nod. Did you mess up by asking to continue? Is he tired? Does he not want to? “If you want to we can. It may take me awhile to… you know.” He smiles sheepishly at you, giving you a second to catch on to what he’s saying.

“Oh. Okay,” you reply, nodding in somewhat understanding. You had two orgasms within the first session, so you don’t understand the male body. Maybe all men are different and Hanbin just takes a bit to get into the mood. “We can stop if you want.”

Your boyfriend chuckles. “It’s all about you today, Y/N. If you want to continue we will. It won’t be that long before I’m hard again.” With another nod from you, Hanbin leans down and places a kiss on the tip of your nose. He kisses down to your lips, the two of you sharing the sweet moment before he continues down further. He gives each breast light kisses before reaching your stomach, going down the center of your stomach and stopping before your belly button. He moves down to reach your center. His eyes travel up to you, his hands finding yours and he interlocks your fingers together. “I’ll be trying something. If you’re uncomfortable just tell me.”

Giving him your “okay”, he continues a bit further down until his tongue brushes between your lips again. You can’t help but gasp, your body clearly sensitive to the touch. He lets your hands go and as he holds one leg down, the other is there right along his tongue. He opens the folds, his tongue working its magic and even going a bit further by entering your hole just a bit. You revel in the feeling of his tongue, letting yourself get lost in the feeling as his tongue is back on your clitoris, fingers still where he put them.

His finger glides up and down, collecting what juices you made before he stops lower than where his mouth is. He forms a small circle around your entrance and slowly sticks one finger in. It’s barely the tip of his finger, but it feels strange. However, you’re too absorbed in the feel of his mouth as he inches another finger in. He continues until he has almost his entire finger inside you. Hanbin pulls out before slowly pushing back in.

It feels weird–it feels strange, but maybe he’s trying to get your body used to it before it’s him that enters. When he pulls out, he enters another finger, carefully pushing two digits in you, and you can’t help but feel even more strange. How long does it take before you’re enjoying the feeling? It honestly didn’t take long for the mouth to make you feel good, but his fingers are different. You close your eyes and try to enjoy the feeling you’re getting as best as possible without letting the fear take over.

“Ah,” you moan, body jerking as you feel his mouth suck a bit harder than earlier on your bud. Hanbin continues his small thrusts, twisting his fingers as he enters again, and once curling his fingers, but as he continues, the strange feeling is slowly being replaced with pleasure. He searches and tries as many angles as he can until he finds a sensitive area inside you. “Right there,” you gasp, as he pulls his fingers out. He looks up to you for what looks like reassurance. “Right there please.”

As Hanbin enters his fingers again, he does what he did the last time, twisting his fingers and curling them to hit the same spot so perfectly. You moan louder, bucking your hips from how strong the feeling is. He does it again and again, always finding the same spot as you clutch the blanket, moving your own hips to his movements. “Faster,” you beg, bringing your hips back as he does with his fingers before the two of you meet moving forward. He picks up his pace, the sound of what you can describe as sticking your fingers in slime and the wet sound coming after filling the room along with your moans. You can’t hold back any sounds escaping your body, even if you fear the neighbors hearing you–it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is feeling the whirl of emotions you’re having right now.

You’re begging now. Begging for him to go faster to give you that rush you’re so close to getting, but it’s not enough. “I need you,” you moan, looking down at him as his eyes meet yours. He pulls back and out, sitting up and cocking his head to the side. “I need you in me,” you rephrase, watching as a small ‘o’ forms around his lips in realization.

“Are you sure?” he questions.

“Please.”

He looks hesitant again. Like a child afraid to take something after his mother said “no”, but he moves forward and grabs his girth, lining it up to you. He glances at you. “If it’s uncomfortable–”

“Just tell you,” you say.

He chuckles. “Guess I talk a lot.”

You reach a hand out to him and he takes it. Holding his hand you look at him with a look of comfort this time. “I’m ready. I trust you.”

He inhales, caught off guard by your words. “Okay.” Grabbing the condom and lube bottle, the two items long forgotten about, he rips the wrapper open with his mouth and pulls out the condom, rolling it onto his fill. Tossing the package to the floor, he opens the cap to the bottle and pours it onto his hand, closing the lid and dropping it to the ground where the wrapper lies. You watch him as he rubs the clear substance on his protected shaft. Once he figures it’s covered, he strokes himself a few times before aligning it back to you.

He rubs his bulge up and down your sex, sending a shiver down your spine. Finally, he pushes himself in. You feel him enter but it’s a small amount before he pulls back out just barely leaving the tip inside. He pushes himself back in, a little further in. Pulls out. Again back in, more entering. He continues this, the feeling strange because it’s bigger and he can’t twist or curve it like he did with his fingers. You can feel your walls widen, but it’s not painful like you thought it would. There’s no tears like they have in the movies or what people tell you.

“Sex isn’t painful like people think. If your vag is prepped enough, it won’t feel like you’re being stabbed like the actors make you think. It’s all about knowing your body,” Ari told you when you first confessed to her about your first heated moment with Hanbin.

You’re not afraid, your body isn’t tense like you thought it would be. You’re calm and ready more than ever, and although it feels strange, once he starts moving in and out you know you’ll feel what all women feel.

Hanbin finally comes to a stop, his erection fully inside you. “How are you?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” you answer.

He nods, leaning forward and placing a warm kiss to your lips. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

You wait for a bit. Waiting for your body to get used to his size. When you feel like your body has adjusted, you exhale. “Okay.”

Hanbin moves. Pulling out like he did with his fingers, slow and careful. You’re unsure as to when you’ll feel good, but right now it’s just strange. It’s not uncomfortable or painful. It’s just… weird. He pushes back in, his own breathing uneven, eyes shut tight.

“Are you okay?”

He struggles to let out a chuckle as he answers, “You’re really tight and warm. I’m losing my mind right now.”

“Oh.” Even through the reddened and sweat filled cheeks, you can still feel the heat rise in them.

He opens an eye. “Are you okay?” He pulls back out.

“Yeah,” you half lie. You don’t want to tell him how you really feel. “You can move faster.”

He exhales. “Okay.” The blanket on either side of you shifts due to Hanbin’s grip tightening as he pushes in faster than the last thrust. Resting on his elbows now, Hanbin leans forward and kisses you. You cup his cheeks, feeling his tongue enter yours without a thought as his thrusts into you, the feeling still foreign. Your tongues play around one another with more practice compared to the first time. With practice you’re used to your boyfriend biting your lower lip, pulling back just a bit. With practice you find it so attractive and love how he’ll sigh in such content as you would do the same.

And with practiced thrusts, you finally let out a moan as the strange feeling disappears and the familiar thrill enters in its place. Your moan seemed to encourage Hanbin as he thrusts even faster than earlier, earning another muffled moan. The kiss breaks, Hanbin sitting back up on his knees with his hands gripping your hips, and you grab onto his wrists, eyes shut as you finally enjoy the feeling of sex.

You moan out his name and he moans out a curse as he pounds into you, the sound of your moans and skin slapping fills the room, the sun long gone and moonlight shining through the window along with the projector light now playing a white light. Opening your eyes to look at him. You can only see his outline, the light from the projector creating an illusion that he’s a god coming down from above. A god thrusting into you so good that your back arches, giving the god-like figure a chance to dip forward and bring his arm under you, changing your positions in one swift movement. You place your hands on his chest to keep your balance still as you adjust yourself now on top of him.

You sway your hips forward and back as you watch your shadow on the wall in front of you. Your hair is wild and if it were a mirror you’ll probably see the mess Hanbin has made out of you, but you can’t stop to focus on yourself as you hear a moan leave your boyfriend’s lips, his hands traveling from your hips up to grab your breasts and squeeze. His moans urge you to move faster and harder like he did. His pleas urge you to be just as quick as he is as you sit up straight and begin to bounce on him, the familiar sounds of slapping skin and moans filling the room again within seconds.

You can feel it again. You can feel the tense feeling licking the edge ready to burst. Hanbin grunts loudly, his body stiffening beneath you as you bounce a few times more before you feel the walls clench around him and the orgasm hit like a wall breaking down a dam. You sway your hips, eyes shut and nails digging into Hanbin’s skin as you ride out your orgasm, feeling your legs trying to close shut around his waist. After a few seconds and the world coming back to life, you hear the pants coming from you two along with the whirring sound from the projector.

You open your eyes to see Hanbin staring at the roof, his chest heaving as you slowly pull yourself off him, flinching as you feel him leave you. Lying next to him, he turns his head towards you, sweat more evident on his skin than earlier today. “That was–how do you feel?”

“It was amazing and intense,” you confess, feeling your voice crack. Your emotions are all over the place and you’re trying hard not to have that urge to cry.

He shifts his body facing you, caressing your cheek as he leans forward to place a kiss on your lips. “What do you want to do? Do you want to take a shower?”

“I want to sleep.” Your body will refuse to get up and make its way towards his bathroom, but you know it’ll get up just a bit to climb under the covers, and it does as Hanbin leans over the bed to grab his shirt and boxers. He hands you his shirt for you to put on as he removes the condom and tosses it into the trashcan next to his desk and puts his boxers on. When you’ve settled in, Hanbin brings you into his arms and you fall asleep almost immediately.

The following morning you wake up before he does, remembering all that happened the night before. You turn to look at his sleeping figure, watching his chest rise and fall slowly. After five minutes of debating with yourself, you decide to wake him up.

The two of you barely left that room for the rest of the day.

#bangtanarmynet #bangtanuniversity #thebtswritersclub #btsgoldnet #btswritersguild #bts #bts x reader #bts x you #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts au #bts smut #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi au #yoongi smut

[bluehairedtracii]

Hooks and Coins|| Harry Hook x Reader Soulmate AU!

Requested: by @lemonypink

Warnings: Harry being cute 

Pairings: Harry Hook x Swann-Turner! Reader

Author's note: Oh my gosh this took so long! I’m literally so sorry! My motivation for writing has been a little iffy lately. Buuutt I’ve also been binging Criminal Minds soo it kinda gave me a creative push to start writing again. (Spencer Reid fics comin in the future) Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this fic as I get back into writing again. 

P.S. Melody is Melody from the second little mermaid movie, and I know she's kinda not mentioned again in the fic but just know that this is y/n’s best friend and that’s who she is lmao.  I also thought the Coin would fit well in here because of the movies just sshhhh. Enjoy!!!!

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"it's soon! I swear!" The night of your 16th birthday, the day your life would change.

The day you get your soulmate tattoo.

"Are you sure??" Melody whines. "I'm positive! Look, it's not even 12:00 on the dot yet- ONE MORE MINUTE!" You look back from the phone on your lap to your right wrist.

"It's twellveeee." Melody cooed.

"Please please please..." You muttered still hopeful.

Then it hit, well stung. "Ow, ow, I feel it!"

"Let me see!" Melody basically climbed on top of you and saw it before you could. She gasped "oh my gosh y/n..." "What? What is it?" You tried to pull back your wrist to see, but Melody kept it steady.

"Y/n, as your best friend, I have to warn you as to what you're about to see...."

"C'mon Mells, it can be that bad." You sighed and tried to pull away from her. 

"You have to PROMISE Me that you won't freak out?"

Annoyed, you sighed and smiled "I promise." "Okay.." she released your hand. You rubbed your wrist and looked at the small tattoo, "A Hook?" "Not just any hook... Penny told me about this." "This is the same hook as the famous Captain Hook himself! It must be his son!"

"Captain? So my soulmate is a Pirate? Like Dad and Mom?" Melody nods almost worried.

"Awesome."

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

"It's late Harry, your sister is gonna kill us if we get caught and wake your dad." Gill rubbed his eyes as he walked towards the galley of the ship.

"I know, but this is where the best lighting is...in a few minutes, I'll get me soulmate...well uh, tattoo I mean." He whispered and unlocked the door, cursing at the squeaky floors.

Harry turned on the lamp nestled on his father's desk. The room lit up illuminating the maps that his father and oldest sister had drawn up while sailing the open seas. He dreamed of nothing more than doing that, sailing and hailing a crew of his own, but for now, he follows Uma’s orders. 

“One more minute Harry.” Gill whispered looking at the tickless clock on the desk.

“Aye, ow! fff-!” Harry cupped his hand and flipped it to see his wrist, he bit back the pain as he saw the black ink form on his wrist. He’d been confused and tried to make it out as it formed. “Bloody hell, this sure is detailed in’it?” Gill loomed over Harry's shoulder, wondering what it was himself, Gill was sure he wasn't ready for his soulmate yet if he had to endure this much pain. 

Harry closed his eyes and exhaled as the pain stopped.

He opened his eyes to see the grim Aztec Coin staring back at him.

“Holy shi-” “Gil do you know what this means?!” “She’s spooky?” “No GIl, you git, She’s a pirate! and she’s a Turner...” He says in awe as he smiles down at his wrist.

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

A few months later both of you seemed to forget. The events of your daily lives getting in the way. You’re training to go off on a sailing trip with your dad for a few months, and Harry is… currently Helping Uma get revenge on Mal by kidnapping Ben. 

But.. you were unaware of this. Obviously. 

Lonnie and you were fencing/sword fighting in the school’s courtyard (for fun) when you saw the boys rushing into the limo. You both caught up to them and questioned them immediately. 

“What’s going on here Jay?” Lonnie snickered full well knowing what’s happening because she overheard it earlier passing their room. “We.. uh..” “we’re going with you..” Lonnie cut the pair off. And this is how you went to the Isle of the Lost for the first time. 

They had told you the plan but left out the part about who they were going to have to deal with if the plan went south. You were nowhere near nervous. All those times you’d trained with Lonnie and your parents at the shop basically were all for this moment. Your pirate self was ready. 

Mal handed over the wand and you cringed a bit. “She’s gonna know it's fake…” you turned to Lonnie and whispered. “Shh I know, get ready..”  you prepped your sword and placed one hand on your lapel while the other was free to toss the swords. 

That’s when everything went south. You and Lonnie sprung into action and helped the others. The sounds of metal clashing mixed with the creaking of the ship and the salty sea air made you happy, it filled you with adrenaline. It felt like you were at home.

2 people fighting you at once, then three, then none, one by one you tossed them overboard.

You were caught in the crossfire between Carlos and some other goons so you ducked under them and sprung onto your feet right into someone else's back. 

You both turned to each other, swords ready, you saw him and you felt that burning in your body. The one that your friends always said happened when you met your soulmate… “Ow!” “Oi!!” Harry lurched back and held his hand. And so did you. 

“You…” he pointed at you “are you…?” you held up your hand and showed your tattoo. He gasped and smiled “I knew I’d see you one day..”  you said in awe. You heard Uma yell for Harry and his smile faltered into a smirk.

“Sorry lass, no ‘ard feelings right?” “Obviously.” You struck your sword first and your swords clashed with each other. “I knew you were good Turner, but not this good.” he laughed as you both turned a corner of the ship. “Thanks! Maybe I can teach you sometime Hook, You seem a bit rusty!” “Oi! My ‘eart Lass.. that one hurt!” 

You snickered and he had caught you by a wood post “awe, our first dance is over now?” your eyes sparkled. He smirked ”Aye if this were different, i’d very much like to get to know you lassy…”  he got closer almost closing the gap in between you two. And his lips brushed yours before you heard Mal and Lonnie yell that it’s time to go. You smiled “sorry Luv, it’s time for me to go!” you kiss his cheek and push him away into a hole that’s in the ship. “Oi! That’s not fair!”

You were the last one to leave and thought of an idea, you caught up with them and helped Mal to kick off the ramp back to the car. “Find me!” You blew a kiss to Harry and smiled, and so did he. on the inside, of course, he had to be “mad” for Uma’s sake. But right now he was anything but. He just met his Soulmate and she was everything he dreamed of.

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

Almost a year had passed when you had first met Harry. And you constantly think about him every day and so does he. 

He sat at the bow of the ship looking out to the ocean thinking about you. It’s all that he’s been thinking about actually. He’s waiting for the day you can be with each other and in each other's arms. You literally took his breath away, because you kicked him, but he was entranced by your skills and beauty. He dreams about learning with you, meeting your folks, owning a ship, and most importantly.. Sailing away with you to see the world. He was stuck here. 

Though he didn't know that you had convinced Ben (it took a lot of convincing) to let Harry over onto the isle for a while. Your boating trip with your dad had gone so well that you also convinced your dad to let you go alone this time. Your parents knew how a forbidden love felt more than anyone else. The love between the two of them, a humble blacksmith that was the son of a pirate and the daughter of a wealthy governor who found that boy so long ago. They were never supposed to be together in society's standards, but their love was the strongest bond. They granted their blessing to you, they knew you'd be safe. You’re a strong pirate and they want to see you the happiest you can be.

You smiled and looked out the window of the limo as it crossed the bridge. Mal and Evie both came with you so they could help you find him and tell him the news. You guys slip onto the docks while Mal and Evie keep guard on the limo and watch you just in case you need back up. “Ursulas…” you smile and cross through the swinging doors, you found him and you felt the burning feeling in your body again. So did he. “OI!” he dropped the basket of chips he was holding and growled at the mess he made. He was fuming until he locked eyes with you. “My princess has come back to me?” he smiled and walked towards you completely forgetting about the fries as he kicked them to the side. “Hey Hook.” you smiled and felt his hand on your face but he backed away. “Woah Turner you ain't gonna kick me ‘gain right?” “no.” you laughed and you both hugged each other. 

He took the two of you outside “what are ye doin here luv? I mean, you don’ ‘ave to make any excuses to see me, but you came all the way from the other side.” he laughed and pushed back a strand of stray hair behind your ear. You blushed and held one of his hands, but unknowingly played with one of the rings on said hand. He bit his lip smiling at your nervousness. “U-Uhm.” you were surprised by the nerves in your voice, you were never this nervous before. This boy is going to wreck you. “It took major convincing, but I finally convinced my family and Ben to let you come to Auradon with me for a three-month sailing trip…” you smiled and looked at him. His eyes lit up and he lifted you off the ground and spun you around. “Are ye serious?! Of course I'd go with you!”  “Great! We leave…” you check your watch on your left arm. “ In 30 minutes!” “Aye! I need to pack!”  you laughed.

 he backed you into the wall. You smirked, “oi, I've been trying to do this ever since the first time we met.” He closed the gap between you two and the feeling of his soft pillowy lips on yours brought you comfort and warmness. You kissed back and ran your fingers through his dark locks as he tightened his grip around your waist. You never wanted this to end. “25 minutes!” You heard the girls yell and you pulled away and laughed. “I've finally found my Turner..” “And I’ve finally found my Hook..”

#harry hook #harry x uma x reader #harry hook x reader #harry hook imagine #harry hook one shot #descendants #Descendants 2 #descendants 3 #descendants x reader #descendants smut #carlos x reader #evie #mal #uma #ben #disney #lonnie #pirates of the carribean: dead men tell no tales #pirates of the caribbean #soulmate au #soulmate alternate universe #pirates #pirate au

[lucientelrunya]

Like a lonely house pt 3

Phew, I feel a little like that bird meme "the risk I took was calculated, but man am I bad at math" (which I really am *points to the 70 years that are actually 80 years* !!), with how I went "Huh, there is no 50.000+words slow burn of them, but I want!!!" and my brain was like "well, do it yourself. Here, have Chapter 1, 3, 6 and 9, I already prepared them. Oh and here is some Ba Ye+Wu Xie-friendship" And then I struggle with how to bridge the gap between those chapters.....

This part is me struggling really hard. Trying to bridge those gaps and trying to puzzle Mystic Nine-Canon and Book-Canon together. Like, Wu Laogou??? He wasn't even born? My perfectionism can't handle this!! But I guess I am like Hamilton, I'll never be satisfied *sigh*, so ... yeah. Feel free to point out any mistakes you spot!

I should definitely add that this is canon-divergent... ish (which canon???), I'm not sure if there is anything I should warn about in this part, maybe just more sadness? But @psychic-waffles and @gaiahenshin wanted someone to hug Zhang Rishan so ... here you go I guess ^^°°° (I see those tags and reblogs and favorites and I am beyond thrilled every single time, I don't even know how to react!)

It takes a conscious effort to make his lungs work properly again and take a deep breath. Fo Ye had entrusted him with his legacy and he will do everything he can to not disappoint him any further. He has to face the consequences of what he has done, he has to. But before he can get a grip on himself someone tips his chin up to shine a flashlight right into his eyes. He automatically flinches back from the blinding light, dislodging the hand from his face in the process and finds Huo Daofu staring at him, flashlight in his hand and one brow raised. “Back with us?” he asks, eyes scanning Zhang Rishan’s face methodically and only taking a step back once he nods slowly. How long had he stood frozen, trapped in his thoughts for Huo Daofu to come over and start to worry?

“Good. Any more insights on god-radio?” What is he talking about? "God-radio?" Zhang Rishan repeats slowly, confused, which only makes Huo Daofu raise both brows this time. He pointedly looks over at the mural where Zhang Rishan's fingers are still touching the picture of said god. Ah, they must have thought it was still somehow communicating with him.

“Time travel”, Zhang Rishan mutters, trying to ignore the way Luo Que hovers anxiously at his side and the way Ba Ye has his hands wrapped around his upper arm like he had always done when he wanted to hide behind him or was whining about something (and the possible connection between those two things). His words cause several confused “huh”’s from different directions. Taking a slow deep breath he braces himself to say the words, to confess and take the blame for this mess. “No, I didn't get any further godly insights, but I think Ba Ye is right, he never died, he was, as you phrased it so nicely, plucked from the past and put here, now”, he says, inclining his head at Wu Xie.

“But why?” Ba Ye asks and Zhang Rishan makes himself turn his head to look at him when he says his next words. “Because of me.” And there it is. “Because this god was inside my mind and it was so incredibly thankful I gave it its freedom that it wanted to give something to me in return, to grant me a wish.” Not that he had wished for Ba Ye to be ripped out of his time, exactly, his thoughts had been a jumbled mess at that moment. He had never consciously wished for anything in particular. But Ba Ye’s sudden disappearance in the middle of a war had torn a hole into Fo Ye’s heart and, by extension, into Zhang Rishan’s (not only by extension, of course, because Ba Ye had been important to Zhang Rishan, too - is important - but to Fo Ye he had practically been family). He could have said how Fo Ye had looked for Ba Ye for months, for years, with a war raging right on their doorstep, when thousands of people were dying or disappearing, when the city they had so desperately tried to protect had been burned to the ground. How Fo Ye had never truly gotten over not being able to find him - save him - or at least find out what happened. He had felt Ba Ye’s absence all his life, a regret he couldn’t let go of, not even on his deathbed. A regret Zhang Rishan had taken into his own heart, after Fo Ye’s death, added to his own regrets and moulded into a lump of regret-failure-pain-bitterness-sorrow that his trained mind still hasn’t filed away properly. He has failed Ba Ye, too, and has missed Ba Ye, too. And this is his mess, this is what his jumbled thoughts had made a god do, so he leaves it at that.

Zhang Rishan is prepared for anger, for reproaches, for being smacked again, but Ba Ye’s face is unreadable and he doesn’t say anything, his fingers around Zhang Rishan’s arm only slightly tightening their grip. He waits for something - anything - to happen, (maybe for the sky to fall down or the earth to open up and swallow him), for him to wake up and realize everything’s only just been a dream - nightmare? - or for one of them to tell him he’s crazy and there’s no way this could be possible. And someone does: “But that’s impossible, that would be a paradox”, Wu Xie says and Zhang Rishan looks at him pointedly.

“A bootstrap paradox, to be exact”, Huo Daofu remarks and really, that’s the part of all of this he wants to comment on? “A what now?” Pangzi asks, squinting at Huo Daofu and Zhang Rishan is glad he is not the only one who has no idea what Huo Daofu is talking about. “A bootstrap paradox. It basically describes phenomena with a cause-effect-loop just like this. I mean, you don’t know my gran, but she was absolutely obsessed with the famous Qi Tiezui so I don’t know how many times I heard the story of his tragic, mysterious disappearance and all the questions and the search and Zhang Da Fo Ye’s heartbreak.” He looks like he wants to roll his eyes in annoyance at the mention of his grandmother. “But that’s exactly that. He vanished and you wanted to find out why and that wish brought him here in the first place. So what came first? There is no discernable point of origin for- what, I like Sci-Fi, don’t look at me like that!”

It is somehow reassuring and disconcerting at the same time that Huo Daofu of all people manages to sum up his thoughts like this, aside from his guilt. And that he is able to put a name to this, even if that doesn’t mean it’s a real thing. Fiction is fiction after all. How can there even be such a thing? But then, how could there be a god chained to a cave or a mysterious force controlling people like that or golden coffin water that saved people from certain death? After everything else he has already seen and lived through or just heard about in his life he shouldn’t be so doubtful. It’s also quite unsettling how much Huo Daofu knows about Ba Ye’s disappearance and how casually he mentions those details. But Ba Ye doesn’t seem too upset about the mention of Fo Ye’s heartbreak, at least for the moment. Instead he perks up at Huo Daofu’s words.

“Good, good! After all you heard and all you read about that then it must be a real thing, so I think we can all agree that all of this is real and I am real!” And, curiously, Wu Xie looks at Liu Sang, who jerks his head in a small gesture of confirmation that’s not really a nod. But it is obviously enough for Wu Xie to smile at Ba Ye and nod. “Yes, I think we can. And I wanted to ask you something. You were the one who stole one of my grandpa’s dogs, right?” The question makes Ba Ye laugh awkwardly and let go of Zhang Rishan’s arm, so he can gesture at Wu Xie.

“Of course that’s what he would tell his grandchildren about me. Let me tell you, I took out that dog’s gallstones and I brought it back safe and sound! And he acted like I murdered it!” Wu Xie laughs at the face Ba Ye makes, or maybe his helpless gesturing. “He always said you kidnapped that dog just to get back at him.” Zhang Rishan isn’t sure if he imagines how the conversation tiptoes on the line of ‘friendly conversation’ and ‘fishing for information’. But he hadn’t been present for the whole Dog-stealing-thing, so he keeps listening, ignoring Pangzi who starts to tease Huo Daofu about his obvious love for science fiction and then continues to question him about his favorites.

“Aiyah! That’s just what I told Fo Ye, that Wu Laogou would never give me his dog if I asked him because he would think I wanted to get back at him. But I really wasn’t! We needed his gallstones to cure Mo Ce so Fo Ye said I had to steal it if I wouldn’t ask for it. So I stole it, but as I said, I brought it back better than new, freshly cured. And he even made me apologize to the dog!” That is actually something he hadn’t known, but Wu Xie laughing and saying “Of course he would!” is enough to finally fully convince him that all of this is real. It puts his mind at ease and shifts his focus to other things he still has questions about.

They should definitely find out more about this god and the people that imprisoned it. He takes out his phone to take some photos of the mural and finds it mostly covered in white, but just like before it just crumbles away in little flakes. Surprisingly his phone still works and there is no trace of dampness to it. For a moment he stares at the screen and then at his arm, where Ba Ye's hands had grabbed him. The dried white stuff has crumbled away where the cloth had been moved or touched, leaving no trace, no lingering wetness. Deliberately taking note of every part of his skin he realizes that actually nothing feels wet or damp, even though he practically swam in that liquid. He can only recall the feeling of the liquid clinging to him and dragging him down like water-soaked and heavy clothing would do, but it seems highly unlikely that he was unconscious long enough for his clothes to completely dry. It's like whatever was in the pool only wrapped itself around him, like a cocoon, but didn't soak through anything.

Luo Que is still beside him, silently watching him. His arms are covered in white flakes, too, so he must have helped Pangzi get him out of the pool. “Do you remember what the liquid felt like?” Luo Que looks confused for a moment, furrowing his brows until his eyes drift down to his own arms and he seems to get what Zhang Rishan is asking. “Not really like liquid, it felt cool but not wet at all”, he answers, rubbing at one of the larger stains that crumbles away under his fingertips. This only confirms his suspicions, he wants this stuff analyzed. Luo Que finds a zip-lock-bag somewhere in his backpack and together they manage to get at least some of the white flakes and dust into the bag, although it seems to disintegrate once it gets shaken off whatever surface it had clung to.

Wondering if this is even really a tomb he takes pictures of the whole mural. It seems more like a temple - no, they didn’t worship the god here, so more of a prison for a god if there is a word for such a thing. He turns only to find Ba Ye watching him, staring at his phone. Of course, the kinds of cameras Ba Ye knows were big and bulky so he hands it to Ba Ye. “It’s a camera and a phone”, he explains, which only makes Ba Ye stare harder, turning the device in his hands. “It’s so small!” His wonder makes Zhang Rishan smile and he promises to show Ba Ye what it can do later.

Which seems almost like a cue for them to decide to carefully explore the rest of the tomb for more information and to find out if it really is a tomb. They take the dagger, the only remarkable thing on the altar and maybe something that can help them find out more about the people that used it. Maybe at least how old this cave is. Zhang Rishan is still unsure if it’s a tomb or a prison, even after they find two more caves with clay jugs filled with human ashes. Cremation is not exactly a common burial tradition for this region and there are no grave goods at all. Not one single treasure, to Pangzi’s great disappointment, no more murals, no scripture, nothing. It’s mostly a disappointment in terms of exploration, but maybe they can find out some more.

Since it already got dark when they reached the tomb they decide to spend the night in the cave with the pool, which is the only one with enough room for all of them (and they don’t really want to sleep next to rows of human ashes). It’s still quite dark, even with Pangzi’s heater instead of a fire but more comfortable than outside where Liu Sang had heard rain and thunder. None of them goes to check, there is no need to hurry back, they can spend one night in the cave and hopefully the rain will have stopped the next day.

Reception in the cave is strong enough to mail the pictures to some contacts and ask them to look into it. Ba Ye watches him curiously while he types in the message and Zhang Rishan shows him all the other functions - or at least everything he frequently uses his phone for, which makes Pangzi laugh. “Ahh, President Zhang,” he scolds, using the title he had never used before. “You are all about work! Show the poor man some good things! Here, look at this game,” and he tucks on Ba Ye’s shoulder to get him to lean over his own phone.

“Pangzi, the ‘poor man’ doesn’t have a phone to send you money for your stupid game”, Wu Xie leans on Pangzi’s other shoulder, grinning and obviously finished with his phone call. “Ah, Tianzhen, pay attention. I’m already done with that one, this is a new one. Here, look!” Judging by the way all three of them look at the phone it must be something cute and Zhang Rishan finds himself smiling again, glad and thankful that they include Ba Ye so effortlessly. He will need people who can care for him and help him if he decides he won’t forgive Zhang Rishan after they get a chance to talk about everything that has happened since Ba Ye vanished.

This thought wipes the small smile off his face and he distracts himself by texting Liang Wan, asking her when she will be back from her trip because he wants her to check Ba Ye, blood tests and all. He will do everything he can to make sure Ba Ye is okay (or as okay as he can be) and has everything he needs for a life in the 21. century. Which is another reason why he offers Ba Ye his sleeping bag, who simply refuses, adamant that they can share. They end up with Zhang Rishan sitting on one half, leaning his back against the wall and Ba Ye using his leg as a pillow, curled up next to him on the other half. It’s familiar, but he represses the memories, busying himself with shrugging out of his coat without waking Ba Ye to drape it over him because he can feel him shiver against his leg. It seems to be getting colder but he doesn’t mind. Ba Ye doesn’t wake, but when he looks back up Wu Xie smiles at him from where Pangzi is halfway wrapped around him, head on Zhang Qilings lap.

When they pack up the next morning it’s still raining and it’s really noticeably colder than before. Zhang Rishan lets Ba Ye keep his coat, he will need some protection against the rain in his thin changshan, even if the thick forest they had hiked through should offer some protection against the rain. But when they leave the cave there is no more forest, only muddy ground where lush undergrowth had been and some tree stumps that look long dead.

“Well, the forest was unusual”, Liu Sang says but still seems just as perturbed as everyone else. For a moment they just stand there and look around them. “I guess they really needed that god to grow something around here”, Pangzi jokes, but he sounds uneasy about it. And how could they not be, with miles of dead land around them where hours before there had been fruit trees and berry bushes in abundance. Zhang Rishan represses a shiver of uneasiness and just wants to leave this place as soon as possible. He is not the only one. Instinctively they walk faster on their way back, or as fast as they can. The rain had made the ground slippery with mud and dead plants. None of them feels comfortable about stopping for the night but it’s safer than trying to navigate through the dark. Thankfully the rain stopped some time before that and they manage get a fire going, but still all of them are quiet and thoughtful, no trace of the easy banter of the day before.

They are packed and ready to go with the first light of the next day. Without the rain the ground dries up fast and the sun is too bright and too warm, which is actually typical for this region. At one point they cross a very visible line where the dead zone ends and there are plants and trees again, but they don’t stop to inspect it further, too glad to be out.

It’s mid afternoon when they reach the end of the road where they had left their cars and from there it’s only roughly another two hours to drive to the small village where they had spent the night before setting out on this endeavour. The villagers don’t seem to know that a whole forest has vanished and happily accommodate them again in the small inn. They had seemed to avoid the general area of said forest and hadn’t wanted to talk about it before, just whispering about local legends of a ‘man-eating wood’. Luckily the owner of the small inn doesn’t seem to remember their exact number or he simply doesn’t care that they left the allegedly cursed forest with an additional person. He gives them the same rooms (which are actually the only rooms available) and goes off to prepare dinner.

They disperse to their rooms to clean up and rest for a moment until dinner is ready. Wu Xie had made sure that Zhang Rishan shares his room with Ba Ye so they can talk, but both of them seem a bit reluctant to start. They wash in a somewhat uncomfortable silence until Zhang Rishan takes off the bandages, inspecting the two cuts on his arms and is surprised at the 2 neat rows of staples. He hadn’t realized they were that long and deep that they required stapling and is actually impressed at Huo Daofu’s level of preparation for such a small trip. He obviously knows what he is doing, the cuts are clean and already healing nicely. “Let me help you”, Ba Ye takes the fresh bandages out of his hand, and starts slowly wrapping them around Zhang Rishan’s arms.

“I understand there are a lot of things that have happened since I disappeared, so just tell me”, Ba Ye’s voice is quiet and he keeps his eyes on his hands. And, taking a deep breath to brace himself, Zhang Rishan tells him. About the second attack on Changsha, the third, and finally the fourth one when they lost and everything they had tried to protect had been destroyed. He doesn’t go into detail about all the lives that were lost in the war, while Ba Ye’s fingers work slower and slower until they stop, hovering over Fo Ye’s bracelet. Zhang Rishan pulls his arms away to tuck down his sleeves, hiding the bandages and the bracelet alike, while he only briefly mentions the destruction and despair. Ba Ye had seen enough of that after the first attack on Changsha. He tells him about the years after the war, how they slowly rebuild and how Fo Ye kept looking for Ba Ye. There are not only sad things to say - Fo Ye had been happy in his marriage with Xinyue, Er Ye had been pleased with his new apprentice, the Huo-Clan had thrived, just like the Xie-Clan - although those outweigh the good things, because one by one he recounts the deaths of everyone Ba Ye knows.

“I’m sorry”, he finishes and hates that the words don’t do justice to the depth of his feelings. “You lost them too”, Ba Ye says, his voice surprisingly steady and almost gentle, and Zhang Rishan stares at him, at a loss. Yes, he did. But little by little, parts of his world crumbling away, piece by piece, until only duty remained. He’d had time to adjust to the holes, find ways around them, new paths that had grown old and used and then been torn away, too. What he had lost in the course of 80 years Ba Ye had lost in one day, one moment, one blink of an eye.

“Yes”, he says and doesn’t know how to put into words that their pain shouldn’t be compared, because there are not enough words to even begin to describe this. Pain is something he has been trained to file away into different threat levels, into different boxes. He is not allowed to have one named ‘unbearable’, but he doesn’t know how else to label the pain of that one moment when the worst thing has happened and it feels like the world just stops, just shatters and falls to pieces, never to be whole again. But everything stays the same. It’s just his world that shattered, his heart that has been torn apart never to be whole again. He is the one who changed, not the world. And he doesn’t even fathom himself how he had to change to survive that, who he had to become. Because he had become a person that would cause that kind of pain to someone else like this. He had killed countless people in his lifetime, on purpose as a Zhang, as a soldier, in the war or by mistake, by failure, by not being able to save them but he had never thought himself capable of such cruelty.

Whatever Ba Ye reads in his face (or maybe in his heart, because Ba Ye had always been good at reading hearts), it makes him knit his brows. Not in anguish or sorrow but something more akin to chagrin and he grabs the sides of Zhang Rishan’s sweater to roughly tug him forward into a bone crushing hug. And Zhang Rishan allows himself to be moved, just like he had always allowed himself to be moved whenever Ba Ye was tugging on him.

Ba Ye presses his face into the crook of his neck, arms wrapping tightly around his sides, fingers digging into his shoulder blades and Zhang Rishan can feel the shaky inhale against the bare skin of his neck. Carefully he wraps his arms around Ba Ye’s shoulders and holds him up when he feels the other man lean most of his weight on him. He doesn’t say anything, when he feels the wetness of quiet tears against his shoulder, just closes his eyes, offering whatever comfort he can offer like this.

#fuba #zhang rishan #ba ye #qi tiezui #dmbj fic #mystic nine

[prose-for-hire]

UC Sunnyhell: Part four

When Hell freezes over

Previous part // Next Part

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: College AU. Part four of eight. Spike is the campus bad boy with a secret soft heart. The pair continue to navigate living together and try to focus on their similarities than their differences.

Originally requested by: @sunflower-stan​

Other tags: @fictionalhoomanofnowhere @harpersmariano @artsymaddie @cameo-greaves @shy-ginger-in-the-graveyard​

Warning: Alcohol consumption. Swearing. Sex reference.

For a long time since the open mic night, Spike had been thinking. Writing. Not able to stop himself running those words through his mind. That glimpse of you he was now becoming slowly obsessed with. He was getting ready to leave for the night, probably to drink himself into oblivion depending how this interaction went.

He shrugged on his leather duster and stalked into the living room where you were curled up with a book. You looked up, about to smile but he rushed his words out before you even had chance to change your facial expression.

“Your words”

“Yeah?” You braced yourself. Expecting him to belittle you. To tease.

“I liked ‘em” He shrugged. It was quiet but he had definitely said it. It almost knocked you down in shock. Your eyes widened, to have his approval had been all you had wanted. No matter how mad at him you had been, this weird need for him to like you or some part of you had been there. Even while you disliked him.

You opened your mouth to say something back, but he had already walked away. Leaving to go out for the evening and leaving you reeling at his admittance.

For him, that was massive. He didn’t say much except insulting quips. So, that sentence really started to mean something. You clutched it, tried to hold on to this glimpse of kindness. You had began to want to see the good in him.

He had to walk out quickly before he said something further and ruined it. He knew what you had done, the type of person that would write the words you had – speak them with such feeling, he couldn’t not tell you. Seeing as you had put yourself out there that way to tell him.

He was embarrassed though and didn’t want to have to stand and hear you gushing. It would make him uncomfortable.

Since that night you and Spike had managed to have a few conversations that weren’t entirely unpleasant for either of you. If you saw each other in your shared kitchenette or in the hall you would nod or even hold a little conversation.

It mostly consisted of exchanging ‘hellos’ and you would explain what you were doing and he would nod and not provide you with his intentions for the day. But it was something.

You were becoming more and more curious about the other. Neither of you could help it. You wanted to know more about that poet you had seen glimpses of.

Later that week, you had seen Spike cleaning up after his time in the kitchen. His way of making things up to you. I mean, he moved a plate from one end of the room to the other but the intention was there. You knew he had done it because you always asked him to.

You were beginning to warm up to him. To get used to him. You were confused with yourself for it, after everything but you supposed it had been petty. That you had acted on what others had told you rather than getting to know him properly yourself.

You were sat at lunch with your friends, you had been testing Willow on her history knowledge ahead of the text she had in her next class.

This was before, as it usually would, your group’s conversation turned to your usual living predicament. They did this to offer you support, but you weren’t so sure that you needed it anymore.

“He’s actually been almost nice recently… I don’t know” You mumbled, unsure of yourself.

“What happened to ‘I’ll never find a single good trait of Spike’s – Hell would have to freeze over’?” Your own words repeated back to you.

“Yeah, well Hell may have just frozen over” you mutter this inaudibly as you frown. But you just shrugged to your friends. They began to tease you about it, that you had a crush. It was because it was unthinkable, ridiculous even for this to ever happen.

You took it back, embarrassed about the way you longed to find this connection. Even if it was with someone you had been so sure you hated. You couldn’t dare tell them about the open-mic night. You knew they would only laugh more. And you didn’t want them to laugh… at either of you. Not that you thought they would be cruel to you - you were just wary of their views on the matter.

You then moved conversation onto something you knew would distract them. You had gossip about the time you had been spending with Angel for your presentation.

“He mentions you all of the time” You insisted to Buffy, which was definitely true. Angel always appeared to be thinking about her.

“You think? I was worried I was making it up, y’know? I miss him”

“He feels the same, from what he’s said. But he didn’t say all that much”

“Details! We need the exact words and tone. Now, y/n!” Cordy demanded which made you laugh as she narrowed her eyes.

“Yeah, we’ll send Will to the lab for analysis” Xander joked, his part in this kind of gossip was usually humour and suggesting he was ‘the voice of reason’ on the matter. Although, nobody really listened to his thoughts especially on Angel. They usually teased him because he didn’t get into the frat angel belonged to.

Buffy listened intently as you told them every detail you could remember. You explained how you had been dropping in good words about Buffy here and there. She grinned, hugging you in thanks. She was really excited. She had always loved Angel and she just wanted to be with him again.

Cordelia said that the next stage would be to get Buffy and Angel in the same room, perhaps at the frat party on Friday. You all nodded in agreement as Xander rolled his eyes. He would go, but he would be complaining about the fraternity and how stupid they were the entire time.

Later that week as the party neared, you had been humming softly as you cooked your evening meal. You made pasta but you soon realised you had made too much. So, you walked into the living room a little embarrassed and offered him a bowl. He looked at you with suspicion first. But quickly agreed. He nodded his thanks a little awkwardly as he took the second bowl from your hand.

You went and sat on the comfy chair on the far side of the room from him, still able to cast an eye to whatever it was that he was watching. He watched you from across the room for a moment and you smiled at him as he tucked in.

You were both thinking about the other. As you watched him, you found yourself wanting to know the man behind those sweet words. To take a chance on him despite the way he had acted.

He was fast becoming to realise that your pleasant nature was how you were genuinely. It was your natural setting. You had no ulterior motive other than the pasta would have wasted had he not agreed to have a bowl. You wanted to be friendly. You wanted to share connections with people.

And you were beginning to figure a few things out. You couldn’t confirm it, but you had guessed that the way he acted was a defence. He had built up this armour around himself to protect him from the way he was used to getting hurt. Spent his time drinking and having  lot of sex to fill the void. The emptiness and loneliness he often felt. You knew taking Psych 101 wasn’t a complete waste of time.

You just stared at each other, eating your pasta in silence with the buzz of the tv in the background. It wasn’t uncomfortable, it was just silence. You were both thinking deeply. Completely lost in your own minds.

You emerged from your room on Friday evening. You had been getting ready for the frat party and you thought you better make some kind of effort. You were in a much lighter mood since you and Spike had begun bridging the gap between you. You were both seemingly even marginally more considerate than you had been yesterday. Which was progress. You had this weird flicker of hope inside. As if you and Spike could move forward this way. Be civil at least.

Spike caught sight of you and had to double take.

“Goin’ out, love?” He asked. You nodded, thinking over his use of pet name before he continued, “Makes a change. The annual loser parade?” He asked but this time you knew he wasn’t being cruel.

In fact, the insult had fallen a little flat compared to the biting comments he would usually use. This told you that he was softening. Or, at least, trying not to be as rude as he usually was.

“Just some frat party I promised the girls I’d go to” You shrugged and he nodded distractedly as if he wasn’t too bothered about where you were going. His eyes scanned your body subtly as you moved around the living space looking for things. You turned back to him and he snapped his eyes away, frowning at himself. His brow furrowing.

You were stood with your group of friends at the party, you had drinks and you were letting the music wash over you. The vibrations changing the rhythm of your heart it was so loud. You were laughing with Buffy and Willow. Cordy and Xander were kissing in the corner after Xander had defended her against some loser that had poured beer down her front. He was distracting her while the water they used to wipe her clothes off dried.

Buffy kept looking up at Angel every so often and you all tried to encourage her to walk over to him. While Willow continued talking her friend into walking up to him (which he so clearly looked like he wanted to do as well), you looked off into the distance.

Into the swarm of party-goers. You felt like you stood out. Like everyone else had this amazing time except you. These strong even deep connections that you longed for. You loved your friends but you still felt like you didn’t fit in here completely.

As you felt this, you looked across the room to find none other than your roommate. Spike was there. At a frat party. He stood out as obviously as you felt that you did. He was talking to someone. A woman you was using her arms animatedly as she spoke. She appeared annoyed and he was just calmly nodding along.

Cordy came back from their corner and Xander handed you a drink. Everyone followed your line of vision, thinking you were angry that Spike had crashed. They offered you words of support, some glares in his direction. Willow lowered her voice to explain that the one Spike was talking with was Anya. Nobody really got along with her, she was very blunt and hard to get along with.

“They had a thing”

“Ew, they deserve each other” Cordy scrunched her nose up in disgust at the pair of them.

“Who wouldn’t have a thing with her?” Xander had said at the same time as Cordy, referring to the fact he had always found Anya attractive. He was checking her out and Cordy gasped and hit him in the chest.

They began heatedly arguing and Cordy’s cup looked suspiciously like it was about to empty in Xander’s face.

You tried to help calm them down but Willow tugged you away, shaking her head. She explained there was a 90% probability at any moment they would begin kissing and making up again and nobody should get caught up in that.

You noticed that Anya had stormed away from Spike and he didn’t seem entirely all that bothered about it. For some reason he hadn’t been in the mood for her proposition. Not with Anya, anyway, he maintained. Maybe he was just keeping his options open…

His eye had wondered toward you every so often, he ended up positioning himself nearer to where you would be. He wasn’t sure why or even that he was doing it consciously. He had a taste of your mind. Of your authenticity. That fiery tension that surrounded you both had fuelled this strange feeling. Despite the fact he didn’t want to admit it. He was softening on you.

After a moment, you moved from where you stood by the drinks and made your way over to Spike. He had just been stood in the corner of the room, his face like thunder. He wasn’t well-liked and so he was alone. Again.

You felt bad, seeing him alone. So you walked straight over to him, offering him a beer, “Here” You offered. He raised an eyebrow in suspicion but took it eventually. You joined him, standing beside him with your back against the wall.

“Shouldn’t you be frolickin’ with the rest?”

“Uh, no. I’m taking a break…” You offered, “I don’t really feel like I, y’know, fit in properly here” you admitted, taking another large drink from your bottle. You were speaking more freely as you drank further.

He was interested to hear this. Shocked that you would feel that way and that he could identify with it. He scanned your face, finding your honesty there. A face he so wanted to trust. Especially after hearing more about your earnest thoughts. Writings.

“Yeah, well, it’s ‘cause they’re all bloody mindless automatons”

“Like me, you mean?” You said, not able to let that slide as you took another large drink.

“No, I-” He shook his head when he looked back at you. Seeing that you were actually smiling. You were only teasing him. The corners of his mouth quirked slightly as he looked down. You liked his smile. You weren’t sure if you had ever seen him properly smile before that moment.

You liked it. It softened his features, brightened them. Made him look so much more attractive than that deep-set scowl he usually had on his face. Like the whole world was against him. You were about to tell him you liked his smile, that you wished you could see it more often when you were interrupted. By Buffy.

She pulled you away, hurling a scathing review of his masculinity and telling him to leave you alone. That he had terrorised you enough at home. That he wasn’t even invited into any frats after the last time. You didn’t want to ask about the last time. You had been getting on and didn’t want a reason to change your mind about him.

The scowl returned to his face and you found your own features mirroring his. You felt bad for him. You really had only been talking. You tried to say something, perhaps in his defence but you couldn’t come up with anything. This tenuous understanding was new to you both and so you just kept silent. He hadn’t expected you to say anything and wasn’t particularly annoyed at you.

It just meant he kept an eye on you from the corner of the room again rather than speaking to you. He swigged the beer you had handed him, surprised at the way you had teased him. The way you had been so easy-going. Almost comfortable for him to be around.

As the evening came to an end, you had gotten yourself separated from your group of friends. You were stood in the fresh air of the night thinking about walking home and trying to remember the correct direction.

As you chose a path to follow, you stumbled over your own feet. You braced yourself, expecting to meet hard concrete. But instead some strong hands caught you. Looping around your waist and setting you back on your feet. You turned to look at the blurry bleach blonde figure with a smile.

“You wanna watch it, love. Can’t be stumbling all over the show in a town like this after dark” He muttered. Everyone called the place Sunnyhell because weird things happened with no explanation. He squinted around, “Where’s Blondie? Shouldn’t she be with you?”

“Told her… I’d be okay” You insisted, holding your stomach slightly. You were feeling a little queasy.

“Well, don’t matter what you said. You’re clearly hammered, pet”

“I’m not… you’re- you’re ‘ammered” You copied his accent and giggled slightly. He stepped a few paces in the real direction of your home and stopped looking at you as you just watched him go.

“Come on then, I’m not waitin’ around all night” He gestured with his head for you to walk with him. He was fairly drunk himself, but he could hold it a lot better than you. Too much practice.

“How are you not drunk? You had more th-than me…”

“Some of us can handle our liquor, pet” He said smugly, lighting up a cigarette as you walked beside him, staggering slightly to keep up with him. You were too drunk to notice but he made sure to exhale the smoke away from you as a courtesy.

“I was nervous, I-I feel like I stand out so much in places like that… a piece that doesn’t fit, I stand out so awkwardly” You sighed, pouring how you felt without filter. Spike frowned slightly, you appeared to blend in so easily. Everyone seemed to like you. From the nerds to the jock-types. But he could tell you meant it. He identified with it held onto the idea you were like him. Clung to it with both hands.

“I get that, love, I’m always in the shadows. When people aren’t laughin’ they’re cowering” He shrugged as if it didn’t bother him but even in the state you were in, you could tell he wasn’t as cool about it as he pretended.

“You get lonely too? But you always have friends a-and the music… and sex” you mumbled, despite you already having the suspicion he wasn’t as fulfilled by these as he made out.

“Thing is, pet, that’s all well and good but it doesn’t change that when all’s said, I’m on my own by the end of the night. In mind or body. A connection, that’s what matters. Something real…” He shook his head as he realised he had revealed too much of himself.

You stared at him for a really long time as he said this, he glanced at you twice as you both walked in silence. He didn’t understand why you were staring. That you felt this so deeply. That a deep connection was all you had ever dreamed about.

“You know… I think that we could be friends... you know? You’re all dark and scary but your heart is… it’s soft really. I think I saw it and I like it. I like you… I think. When you-you’re not being a complete-”

“Alright, watch what you’re sayin’ or you’re not getting any kind of friend out of this” He warned, although he was smiling at the way you spoke. He had been feeling similar about you.

“Friends?” You asked, having caught what he said and wanting to confirm it. He looked at you, squinting for a moment. As if he was trying to check if you were playing some kind of practical joke. No, he decided. You were drunk and just running your honest thoughts.

He just nodded, looking away from you. You almost cheered when he nodded but opted for a more subtle smile. But he caught it and it meant more to him than he thought it would.

You then tripped over your own feet and overbalanced because of the way your head was spinning. You really had drunk a lot. He had to grab you by your middle again before you tumbled to the floor and lead you back to your shared home by taking on your weight.

He made sure that you were safe and in your bed. He had to move the piles of paper you had left there. Your writings. Thoughts, poems. He scanned his eyes over them, but the pages were a little blurry.

You flopped into the bed fully clothed. He took your shoes off for you before looked around your room, soaking up just how much of you was in such a small space. He found himself liking it. The smell. The colour scheme. Those books you never went anywhere without.

He pulled your bedclothes over you and used his hand to balance himself against the wall and leave to his own room. He couldn’t help smiling softly as he walked though, at the way you had asked so innocently. You really had wanted to be his friend. His mind was reeling. His opinion of you was beginning to change. And he was starting to actually acknowledge it.

In the weeks after, he began to grow more and more fond of you. It grew and creeped up on him in a way he wasn’t accustomed to.

You slowly began to have slightly longer conversations when you crossed paths. Starting after you thanked him for leaving water by your bed for when you woke up that night you got drunk.

You became animated in conversation and he caught himself watching you, genuinely listening. How had he missed how nice you were? How genuine your enthusiasm was?

He now knew the plot to several musicals and books despite having never heard of them before. Just as you knew a lot more about the origin of punk and the bands he loved so much. It was strange sharing these parts of yourself.

It could still be awkward at times and it wasn’t as if Spike had entirely changed his personality. He still lived the way he usually would. He just tried to mind you a lot more. He started to realise he wanted to be considerate of you. Where he definitely hadn’t before.

He sometimes saw you writing and nodded. You shared a small smile. Understanding each other in that sense. He even acknowledged you in public now. Sidling up to you so long as your group of friends weren’t around. He found his chest lifting when you spoke.

He wasn’t used to friends he actually got along with. Actually enjoyed spending time with. He usually tolerated people that felt the same way as him – those on the peripheries of the others. Or people that liked the same music.

You and he truly began to become friends. You find yourself genuinely enjoying his company. His silences weren’t filled with anger or resentment for you anymore. Your company wasn’t his only to berate the way he lived his life or cast judgement you had learned from your friends.

You genuinely started to get on. The first time you began to laugh at something together it made you smile for the rest of the day. He had replayed your conversation over in his mind. Your home life was getting so much better.

You both even started making use of the shared living space together. You began silently watching some dumb soap in the late afternoon (aka Spike’s breakfast time). He was eating Weetabix and suddenly got excited at what you were watching, throwing himself down beside you and taking the remote from your hands. He turned the volume up and settled in.

You were bemused, laughed a little which made him frown and look at you.

“What?” He asked with a mouthful of Weetabix as he caught that smile of yours.

“Nothing” You stifled a giggle and turned back to the tv. You weren’t trying to tease him you just hadn’t expected him to be so into the show. You would almost find it endearing.

The proximity and the natural way he had sat down beside you made you smile slightly too. All it had taken was some careful coaxing and he was already showing you more of himself.

He was beginning to grow on you. Maybe you really could be proper friends after all…

#UC Sunnyhell #Spike btvs #Spike x reader #Spike imagine #Spike x you #btvs #btvs x reader #btvs x you #btvs imagine #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #gn #gender neutral

[sirensmojo]

“Remember The Missing” - Ivar The Boneless x Reader x Ubbe

Summary: You're sent to Kattegat by your uncle for settling a deal with King Ragnar. No need to mention as soon as your feet touch the dry ground, it's the Ragnarsons' eyes you caught.

Pairing: Ivar the Boneless x Reader x Ubbe (but All the Ragnarsons make an appearance)

Warnings: fluff, light smut, angst at the end

Word Count: 3,394

*Masterlist*

The brothers didn't have the same taste when it comes to women. Whenas Ivar and Sigurd fell for thralls, Hvitserk for simple woman, Ubbe for athletic shieldmaiden, when you dropped off the boat, their mouth surely dropped too. That's the first thing that caught your eyes, four tall men, dressed in fur, clean and braided hair with eyes as blue as the sky. Those piercing eyes were pointed right at you, although you were quite used to being stared at. From your tamed hair falling perfectly around your face shape, highlighting your complexion to your reddened cheeks from the cold that underlined Y/C eyes, making your pupils scintillate, every detail seemed to mesmerize them.

Once out of the boat, you readjusted your large and dark cloak that didn't allow the Vikings to check up on your body features but they'd bet their life everything about it was perfect. Your eyes sweep the areas without dawdling on things, as you found out what you looked for. You started to walk towards them, each of your step arousing their desire deep into their core, and stopped in front of them.

"King Ragnar, I surmise," your soothing voice purred in their ears like honey. You held your hand to the man and instead of shaking it, he pecks your fingers.  You slightly raised your brows but didn't make any comments.

You soon noticed the stares still on you and glanced at the men standing beside the King, tilting your head to the side in curiosity, the rumors were true. Men of the North were, indeed, handsome. Their features, the care accorded to their looks, even your nostrils betrayed you, as they curled up a little, their spicy wooded smell fondling your nose. "Here are my sons, from right to left: Ivar The Boneless, Hvitserk, Sigurd Snake In The Eye, and Ubbe." The bearded men spoke, lifting the veil on the identity of your seemingly new fans. You didn't miss how the four pairs of eyes have been devouring you but chose to ignore it for the sake of the alliance. Thus your clenched jaws indicated your displeasure.You had quite a temper, that was the exact reason why you were the one sent by your uncle. He tried many times to tame your ways... In vain. Although you promised him this time, you'll behave on behalf of everything he has done for you since the death of your late mother.

"I'm Y/n Of Stilfhel, pleasure is mine." You quickly bowed, gripping onto your dress for it not to meet the soil. The ragnarsons remained silent, not that you expected something else from them, seeing how focused they were to ogle you. You knew better. Everywhere you walked, people would stare at you, In your own kingdom it was because of your status, or so you'd like to believe. In foreign countries, you accepted it was because, for some reason, men found you pleasurable to look at. No need to mention that whenever you'd open your mouth, they would instantly lose interest in you, for you sounded nothing like a princess. When it wasn't you cursing, the problem was the topics on which you conversed. War, fights, battles, swords, economics, trading.

No men of your homeland needed or wanted a woman that had an opinion of everything.

But you were no princess, indeed, your uncle took you as his own daughter at the request of your mother back on her deathbed. This was her last wish, and your uncle being a good man led to you living in the palace without having the weight of duties on your shoulders. Maybe you grew too comfortable, thought your uncle at first, but he soon enough found out it was only you being you.

***

Once installed in the Great Hall, you take off your cloak and give it to the thrall waiting for it, exposing a beautiful azure dress made out of thick fabric. A single thin leather belt tightened it at your waist, revealing your curved hips and generous chest. Your sober dress didn't need any jewels or extravagance as your own body was already doing the job. An abnormal cut departing from your thighs down to your ankles betrayed your cover of "naive princess". If only they knew under that dress was hidden tones of small weapons, that thought making you smile. The man sat right in front of you did not miss any of your lips curling up as you brushed down your hands on the side of your dress, trying to hide the cut you made.

Traveling in that get-up was far from comfortable, you had to do something, right?

You thank the thrall with a small smile and finally sat down. "Is everything alright?" Asked Ragnar at the sight of your grimace. You forced a smile and nodded, "Yeah, of course. Everything's fine, my King" you succeed at answering. Glancing quickly around the table you slide your hands under your dress and straightens both your legs, trying to grab the hilt of your swords that buried itself into your ribs. When Hvitserk and Ivar abruptly turned their head towards you, both confused and satisfied, you firstly ignore them, but as your fingers finally grip onto your sword, their stare only grew more ravenous. At this exact instant, you understood what was happening, you were playing footsie with both of them. Your left foot caressing the inside thigh of Hvitserk whereas your right one got dangerously close of Ivar's core. A nervous rictus drew on your lips as you thought of something to get out this situation. You completely slump on the table to bridge the gap between your palm and the handle of your sword. Once you got it, you slowly push it out the piece of leather holding it and slide her against your bare skin before placing her on the ground. You fold your feet back to their initial position. Ivar was still looking at you, lips slightly parted with astonishment and desire twinkling in his eyes whereas Hvitserk's look was less shy in demonstration of what was going on in his mind.

"I've heard tones of stories about you Y/n," Ragnar let out as he motioned to a thrall to fill your cup with ale. Your eyes dawdled on the cup, as you kept your bottom lips in between your teeth. "Of me?" You faint not to know what he was talking about. "How so?" You added, your eyes still fixed on the liquid purring down in the container. If you start drinking now, you'll still be there in the morning, completely drunk but still wanting more ale. You will not be able to control yourself anymore, and the pretty princess will be gone."That you'd never been beaten by ale," The king continues with a defying tone. "Oh yeah? You're sure it's about me?" You raised a brow at him, glancing at the people around the table. You'd be ready to receive ugly stares by now, but they didn't come, to your surprise. Usually, as soon as someone used to put that subject on the table when with your uncle, grimaces could be seen on the surrounding faces while murmurs could be heard. 

Here, stares were fixed on you, but without any grimaces nor disgusted sounds. The men around the table were quite intrigued, maybe they didn't know what their father spoke about. You grabbed the cup hungrily, some of its content escaping the cup to drop on the oak table. You sipped a mouthful of liquor, squinting your eyes at the feelings of the liquid spreading into your body.

"Y/n Of Stilfhel, there's only one, isn't it?" Ragnar bantered as you finished your cup sooner said than done. You glanced at the thrall standing near the doors and motioned her to come. Once she presented herself before you, you carefully took off her hands the carafe and spill some more liquid into your cup. "So you heard about my superpower," you nonchalantly replied. "You must've traveled a lot to have found out. I've never put my feet on that ground before." You pointed the spot with your cup. "I have, but let's not dawdle on my idle stories, please tell us more about your presence here." "It is said, the agreement you share with my uncle must be sealed someway," Hearing your words, the heart of the men surrounding you fluttered. The first thing they thought about when hearing "sealing"  was marriage. Of course, it was. Why else letting a princess journey by herself to a foreign country?

They glanced at their father, then at you. Soon their eyes flickered from on to another's face. It was to who will seduce you first. You were a challenge atop of being a mystery. 

***

Ubbe leaned in your ear and murmured a joke about Sigurd, which make you choked on your drink. You glanced at the poor target of the man sitting beside you and shook your head both sides giggling. He instantly scowled at his brother, wondering what he could've said. Minutes passed before Hvitserk dared to approach you, he tried to be subtle but, hard luck for him, you weren't that naive. He fainted to join your side of the table to serve himself some more ale, glancing at you here and there. This whole scene made you laugh but you tried to muffle it, as you didn't want to lose all the fun. "Is the ale good?" He tried. "I don't know, you tell me," you raised your brows, as he neared his cups to his lips. He chuckled as he sips some of his drink. "How is that you're never drunk?" "Gods, believe me, I am, most of the time, but I can stand still, even play strategic games!" You heartedly let out as you leaned toward him. "Yeah? We should test that then, I'll wait right in my seat for you to come when you'll be very drunk," he winces at you as he got up from the chair beside you. "Count on it," you flirted back with a soft voice. You attentively followed his moves until some lips encountered your ear. Ubbe, this man really wasn't afraid of anything, his extreme proximity surprisingly warmed you up. Even if wasn't winter yet, the nights were cold, your skin being very sensitive did not help.

"I bet a night with you he'll be sleepy drunk in exactly 4 more cups," the man mutters in your neck, as a shiver spread from your back to your arms. Gods only know how, but he noticed it, looking down and grabbing your hands in his. "Bet held," you exhaled, trying to get away from his grip, but he didn't let go. Your eyes go to both his hands squeezing yours to his face. You didn't realize how close he was, only few inches away. If he turned his head to you at this precise moment, your lips would practically touch. The warmth emanating from his fondles spread to both your arm before dangerously nearing your guts, the center of your aroused desire. Now that he was so close, you noticed the straightness of his jaw, the plumpness of his lips, and how soft his skin seemed to be. When he turned his face, you managed to slip your hands out his grip and move your head backward, a nervous laugh escaping your gritted teeth. He was more than enticing, no doubt.

But you didn't come for that...

Speaking of your duty, your brows knitted as your eyes were searching the place for Ragnar. He wasn't there anymore. "Told you," Ubbe chuckled pointing out his little brother Hvitserk, face down to the table. "Yeah, he seems a bit dead, but I guess he's okay. At least, I hope," you grimaced, tilting your head. You needed to get some fresh air, some hours ago you were in a boat, almost alone, only with a few guards that your uncle forced you to bring and now you were surrendered by a bunch of handsome men. You excused yourself to Ubbe and walk perfectly fine to the doors. The man slid his head to the side, his mouth forming an "o", as he watched you walk away. He was more looking at your body than anything, your curves bouncing from a foot to the other. Once out, you exhaled deeply, closing your eyes a few seconds. "A bit overwhelmed?" you heard a voice, knocking you out the bubble you were in. "I'm not going to lie," you admitted, looking down. "I see you can stand as straight as if no ale oozed in your system. So it was what my father was talking about," "I know you can do better than that." You cut him off, making Ivar turns his head to yours, while you were looking faraway before you. "Huh?" He pondered, still gazing at you. "I love to talk about battles and war. Not about me being okay with drinking ten dozens of cups of ale," you confessed. "Than I wondered what you were talking about with my brother," he bluntly let out, shrugging. "He's got some move" you tried to convince him. He perfectly understood you were talking about Ubbe's ability to seduce women and riposted as soon as your words left your throat. He certainly knew what he was talking about. "Oh, I don't doubt that. I only thought you wouldn't let yourself be trapped in it," "I'm not," "So why you got out?" "I--I..." you stuttered, without being able to invent anything. Perhaps the ale was starting to get to your head.

"My name's Ivar, not 'I--I'," he mimicked your pout and voice. You hassled to chuckle and nudged him. "Stilfhel is an interesting name," Ivar let out, loudly breathing out. "As interesting as Y/n?" You gauge his reaction with a small smile at the corner of your lips. "See, you are flirty with me now,"

"Arrrgh, you're too quick for me," you faked being offended. "I bet you knew the way of sealing the alliance between both our lands have nothing to do with marriage." He nodded to himself, slowly understanding your games. "True, but I couldn't restrain myself to play a little with the minds of your brothers..." You paused, closely looking at the Viking. A genuine smile brightened your face, your eyes crinkled. "I'm glad it didn't get on you,"

"Sigurd didn't try anything,"

"Because he saw Hvisterk kind off failing," You tilted your head to him, only to encounter his eyes. They were as blue as your dress. You soon drown into them as he didn't move his stare. "Ivar The Boneless, right?" "Hmm," he agreed, clearing his throat. "I'll remember it," you mutter for yourself.

***

You tried to remember the words of the thrall when you asked her about the chamber of the Prince. You were drunk, the ale was deeply rooted in your system, but that doesn't stop you from walking through the corridors before you opened a door. "Y/n? Wha--t" "Shhh", you responded as you got closer the bed. You finally crawled into it, dangerously getting nearer the man. As you approached, Ubbe leaned his back on his pillows, intently watching your gestures. You finally got on top of him, leaning onto his chest, your lips dropping feverish kisses on his lower belly. His eyes didn't leave yours, he was concentrated in the twinkle in your eyes as if he looked away, you'll vanish in a cloud of smoke. You slowly started to kiss your way up to his neck, which you bite before playing with his skin in between your teeth. His silent groans directly reached your ears making your desire for him grew stronger each time his hoarse voice resonated in your head.  When you straddled him, after benching up your dress to your hips, he exhaled deeply, relieved the space between you has been filled. His hands ceased your hips, slowly sliding to your ass as he nuzzled his way to your face, making you look at him. Your mouth was open, your eyes getting lost together. "You're so beautiful," he slurred, incapable of letting go of your stare. "You're even more," you offered him a smile that made his heart skip a beat.  He swiftly crashed his lips on yours, making moan. He kneaded your skin with so much strength, you were sure to found bruises wherever he touched later.  You ground down on him, feeling his growing bump right in between your tighs, where you were already ready for him.

***

After you make out, Ubbe directly fell asleep, you didn't know if it was because of your little sport session or the alcohol. Whatever, you weren't asleep, unlike you. It wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you needed more than sex. You planned on going back to your room, but instead, you stopped before another door, his door. You remember the blue of his eyes, his expression when you were face to face around the table earlier, and the way he articulated your name: with such harmony and softness. You pushed open the door, entering a total black room, "Ivar?" you ask loudly, making sure the door was closed behind you before asking for him.  At first, you were welcomed by a silence, but as your eyes got used to the darkness, you could glimpse of two light sparkles turned right at you. "I--hum..." you couldn't find the right words, how did you find yourself so nervous when not even an hour ago you were entering Ubbe's chamber so confidently? "Can I stay with you?" your voice echoed in the room as if it was empty. Still no response. You moved forward the bed, aiming at the opposite side of where you glimpsed the scintillating eyes. "I take that as a yes," you continued to talk, even if he didn't want you or even talk to you, you couldn't help but feel the need to be in his company again. "I'm coming under the furs, alright? Welcome me there." you encouraged him. "You lied," he finally spoke. You were shifting your body inside of the shits, under the furs when you stopped in track. Did he recognize you? "Earlier you said you never put a foot down this soil, you lied," he finished, quite bluntly.

You wanted to speak but the saliva in your mouth was too thick, even making it hard to swallow. You gave-up your chance to give him an explanation. 

"I knew I already saw your face before, not too long ago actually. You left me waiting for something that would've never happened," his tone was firm but not angry. "Why?" His voice broke to silence. "I knew I wasn't staying for long, I didn't want you to wait for me. You were supposed to forget me, Ivar..." You murmured, without trying to justify yourself. "How could I forget what I gave you, what we shared?" "I don't know," you allowed."Me neither, but still you lied to me back then, about your name, your status, everything!"

"I didn't lie when I came sneaking close to your body every night. I didn't lie when we were meeting in secret in the woods to look at the sunsets and lying on our back watching the forms of the clouds," you lowly let out as you got closer to his chest. Your palm patted his torso before going up to his cheek. Now you're holding his face so his eyes stick with yours, unable to escape from your hold, just like you used to two years ago. "When my uncle asked for a messenger I volunteered," you started to be swoon. His ablaze stare would kill you right now if they could. Instead, Ivar lifted his rough and huge hand to your face, wiping away the few tears that have filled up your eyes. "I wanted to see you again, feel you again..." you added as he pulled your head toward his bare chest. Your eyes closed, and your mind eased in less than a minute, soothed by the rhythm of the Viking's heartbeats. 

"Don't leave," he managed to articulate despite the nervousness inhabiting him at this instant. His arms closed around your weak body as he held you tightly against him, to your greatest pleasure.

Ivar Permanent Tag: @youbloodymadgenius​

#King Ragnar #ragnarsons #ubbe x reader #ubbe ragnarsson #hvitserk x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless x reader #Hvitserk #vikings #vikings imagine

[dickspeightjrs]

Guardian Angel - (au / 3.2k words) *check tags for warnings*

ao3 link

Dean could see his breath cut through the air in front of his face. It was a weird feeling knowing that it’d be gone soon. 

He walked further along the river, the city lights reflecting off the still night water. So many people amongst those lights and not one of them would notice when he was gone. 

He was done. In every way. Life was drowning him. It had been pulling him under the water for years. Every time he thought he could stay afloat another hand came to grab his ankle and tug him under again. 

Dean hated to seem all woe is me, he knew other people had it so much worse than he did. It was that thought that had made him bury his inner turmoil for so long. 

That, and his brother, Sam. Life hadn’t been great to either of them but Sam had made it out of their small middle-of-nowhere town and to Stanford for college. He’d been there for two years now and Dean couldn’t be prouder. 

But, Dean also hadn’t seen his brother for those two years. It was safe to say he hadn’t been as successful as Sam. He’d been stuck in their home town with their deadbeat dad. Dean couldn’t afford to get out to California and he sure as shit wasn’t letting Sam use his money to visit. (It may also have something to do with the fact that Dean didn’t want Sam to see what a shitshow his life had become.)

So, Dean had been struggling but he got through on the thought that, once he saved enough money, he’d join Sam in Palo Alto and kiss this crummy town (and their dad) goodbye. 

That was until today at least, when Sam called Dean during his lunch break to tell him that he’d asked his girlfriend, Jess, to marry him. He was flustered because it had been a spur of the moment thing but the first thing he’d done after was ring his brother. 

Dean was over the moon for Sam. Until Sam told him that him and Jess, of course, would be moving in together. 

“But it’s okay,” Sam had said.

“You can still come out here,” he’d said. 

“We’ll find you your own apartment,” he’d said. 

Dean’s stomach had dropped. He’d been saving all the money left over after bills (which wasn’t much on a basic mechanic’s salary) to pay for the first few months rent on a place with Sam. He’d just needed enough to cover him while he found a job. Finding somewhere new and on his own would be even more expensive. It was going to take even longer now for Dean to get out. 

He’d congratulated his brother and ended the call as soon as he could. He could have broken down right there but he had to get back to work and couldn’t lose his job, now more than ever. 

Later, he’d trudged through his front door. He’d spent all afternoon thinking of what he could do now his plans had changed. But nothing motivated him. 

He’d been so in his head that he hadn’t noticed the state of his apartment at first. Once he’d entered the living room, he saw that everything had been overturned. The shelves and cupboards had been ransacked. 

Immediately, he’d felt sick when he saw that the tin he kept his savings in had been emptied. He knew straight away who had been there. His dad. John was the only other person with a key and there were no signs of a break in. Dean cursed himself for even giving John a key in the first place. John didn’t care about him. He didn’t care about stealing from his own son. 

So now, Dean had nothing. No plan. No money. No brother or father. Nothing. 

What was the point? 

That’s how Dean had ended up here. On the outskirts of the city, walking towards the bridge that led into town. 

Sam had a new life and it didn’t include Dean. It was obvious, but it was okay. 

He took a deep breath as the bridge came into view. He took determined strides towards it. He knew that if he hesitated for even a second, he wouldn’t go through with it. He’d chicken out like always. And for once in his life, he wanted to get something right. 

Blinded by his tunnel vision, Dean failed to see the person walking towards him. He only snapped out of his determined walk when he collided with the person’s shoulder. 

On instinct, Dean reached back to steady the person - a guy it seemed. “Sorry, man,” he apologised. “Wait. Cas? Is that you?” He couldn’t believe it. Castiel Novak. He’d recognise those blue eyes anywhere. 

Those blue eyes squinted back. “Sorry, do I know you?”

Dean’s heart sank. 

He and Cas had known each other in high school. 

They weren’t necessarily the best of friends. They were partnered for biology class. Despite what his appearance of tattoos and piercings might have made people think, Castiel wanted to be a doctor. He was smart as hell so he already knew it all. And Dean, well, he’d already figured out by then that he’d never amount to anything so he just didn’t try. 

The two boys would sit at the back of the classroom and mess around like two teenagers would. Cas was known around school for being a bit of a class clown and he easily managed to pull Dean down with him. 

They never spoke outside of biology. Castiel had his own friends and Dean, well Dean didn’t have any friends really. To anyone else, it was as if they didn’t know each other at all. But, regardless, those lessons with Castiel were oftentimes the highlight of Dean’s day. He always knew he’d leave school that day with something to smile about. 

Unfortunately, once biology classes ended, so did their fleeting friendship. Dean assumed Cas had gone to some top college and hadn’t looked back to their shitty town. 

But now he was back. 

And he didn’t remember Dean. 

Of course, once again, the friendship meant more to Dean than it did to Cas. Would anyone ever care about Dean the same way he cared about them?

Dean let his shoulders slump and he turned to carry on his journey towards the bridge. “Forget it.” he mumbled. 

He cursed himself for thinking, perhaps hoping, that maybe seeing Cas at this moment was a sign not to go through with this. A sign to keep fighting for something. 

What an idiot. 

He started walking away when a hand grabbed his wrist. “Dean,” Cas’ voice came from behind him, “I’m sorry. I was just kidding, messing around. Like we used to in high school? Of course I know you. I couldn’t forget you.”

Dean turned around to look at Cas. He could see Cas’ lips carry on moving with speech but the sound didn’t reach Dean’s ears. He didn’t know what to think or feel or say. 

When he still hadn’t said anything, Castiel stopped his ranted apology to take a breath and look at Dean properly. Dean didn’t know what the other man could see in his face but whatever it was made Cas’ expression change from one of confusion to soft concern. 

“Dean, are you okay?” Castiel reached back across the gap between them and touched Dean lightly on the back of the hand. 

Was he okay? 

God, how could he answer that question? 

Am I okay? Dean asked himself. No I’m fucking not okay. 

The adrenaline that had been pushing him through the last hour after finding his apartment trashed, left his body. The whiplash of emotions he’d been feeling drained the energy out of him. He didn’t want to die but he couldn’t carry on with this blackness tethered to him. 

Am I okay?

I’ve never been okay. 

Before he could stop them, tears began to fall from Dean’s eyes. He shook his head. “No,” he whispered, “I’m not okay.”

With no hesitation, Castiel pulled Dean into a tight hug. Dean struggled to speak through the sobs that had started racking through his body, so Castiel just squeezed tighter and stroked a comforting hand through Dean’s hair. 

When the sobs subsided, Dean pulled away from Cas and immediately cringed at the scene he’d just created. 

“Fuck. Shit. I’m sorry, man.” He wiped the tears from his face. “Look, just forget this happened. It was good to see you. I gotta go.”

Dean tried to leave again, turning once again to face the bridge. 

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice cut through the night air. “I’m not letting you go anywhere right now. Not when you’re like this.” Blue eyes looked at his earnestly. “Please, Dean, if something happened now, I’d never forgive myself.” He looked behind Dean, at the bridge looming.

Dean didn’t know if Cas had actually figured out his plans but it had been so long since someone had asked if he was okay and actually seemed to mean it. 

Maybe, Dean was being naive. Maybe this would lead to disappointment again but he had nothing left to lose. The bridge would still be there tomorrow. Nothing would change if he left it another day. 

Castiel could see that Dean had relented so he reached out to quickly squeeze Dean’s hand. 

“Come on, there’s a 24 hour coffee shop on the corner. We can talk if you want? Or just have coffee.” He didn’t wait for an answer, which Dean was grateful for - he wasn’t sure he could speak even if he wanted to. 

*  *  *

Half an hour later, saw the two men sat opposite each other in the corner of an empty coffee shop. The only other person was the guy behind the counter, who seemed fixated on cleaning one of the coffee machines. 

Dean’s leg was bouncing under the table and he resisted the urge not to bite his nails. Anxiety coursed through his body and seeing his reflection in the shop window didn’t help. The lights in the room showed the harsh truth of the toll today’s events had taken on Dean. 

Castiel hadn’t said much, other than asking for Dean’s coffee order, which Dean was grateful for. But, Dean knew Castiel hadn’t only been offering coffee when he’d invited him here. 

“So,” Dean started, “you’re probably wondering what the hell that was all about..” He smiled self deprecatingly. 

Castiel placed his hand on Dean’s sitting on the table top. “Dean, I just wanted to make sure you’d be okay. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

The feel of Cas’ hand on his made Dean want to cry all over again. The gesture was so small but it had been so long since someone had touched him with any kind of affection. 

“No, Cas. It’s okay. I guess I need to tell someone.”

And from there Dean spent the next hour just spilling his guts to Castiel. Every gory detail of his entire life. 

And Castiel just sat there and listened. Dean had never felt so heard. Normally, someone would listen just long enough to be polite and then change the subject to whatever they’d wanted to talk about. 

But Cas, this dude Dean hadn’t seen since high school (who he’d barely even known then either), had sat for an hour and listened. And he never let go of Dean’s hand. Giving him the anchor he needed to stay in the moment, to feel stronger than he had in years. 

When Dean finished (he’d left out what he’d been planning to do right before he’d bumped into Cas, though he imagined Cas had guessed) he felt like a weight had been lifted. 

He looked to Castiel and saw tears forming around beautiful blue eyes. 

“Thank you for telling me, Dean,” he breathed. “I can’t imagine what this must have been like for you to live with all these years.”

“Thanks, man. I don’t like talking about it much. I know other people have got it worse, y’know?” Dean shrugged. 

“Someone else’s problems don’t erase yours, Dean.” Castiel moved his hand to link his fingers properly with Dean’s. “I promise you.”

Dean shrugged again but kept hold of Cas’ hand. He didn’t agree but he wasn’t going to argue with Castiel. 

“Now,” Castiel continued, “I do have an offer for you. You can think about it, you don’t have to say yes. And I understand that it won’t just magically fix all your problems and -”

“Cas, you’re rambling, dude,” Dean smiled. 

“Sorry,” Castiel blushed. “Well, I’m only in town for a few days - I live in San Francisco now.” 

Dean’s stomach dropped. Of course, the one ray of light he’d had in days was leaving for fucking California of all places. Fuck California. 

Castiel must have seen the shift in Dean’s mood again, because he lifted Dean’s chin from where he’d been focused on the scratches on the table. 

“Dean, let me finish,” he said, softly. “As I was saying, I live in San Francisco but my roommate just moved to live with her girlfriend. So, if you’d still like to be close to your brother and have a fresh start, the room is yours.” 

Dean stared wide-eyed at Cas.

“D-Dude, are you sure?” 

“Of course.” Cas assured him.

Dean saw nothing but sincerity in his expression. 

“Look, I can’t guarantee I’ll be the best company most of the time. I’m not used to actually living with someone anymore. Unless you count my dad, I guess, but he’s gone most of the time, God knows where.” Dean shook his head. 

“It’s okay, Dean. We’ll figure it out together.” Cas smiled, shyly. 

A thought occurred to Dean. “But, dude, I have no savings now. I wouldn’t be able to pay rent until I find a job,” he sighed. “And mechanics are probably dime a dozen there. I ain’t special.” He shrugged. 

“Dean, look at me.” 

Dean took a breath and met Cas’ gaze. He still felt so uncertain about his place in this world and he was so used to the rug being pulled from under him. It was only a matter of time before the other shoe would drop. 

“You are special.” Castiel implored. “We may not have seen each other in years, and we weren’t even that close back then, but I can see it in you. You are special. You are talented. You deserve to have a future. In whatever way you want it.” 

“But Cas.” Dean sighed. 

“You don’t think you deserve to be saved.” Castiel frowned. It was a statement not a question. 

Dean couldn’t get over how well Castiel could read him, after so little time spent together. It was like he could see into Dean’s soul. He glanced down at their clasped hands, he certainly didn’t know what that meant but he was grateful for the source of comfort. 

Squeezing Cas’ hand, Dean looked out the window at the street lights shining up at the intimidating bridge above. “I guess, I don’t.” He smiled, softly. 

Silence cushions the two men for a few moments, Dean continues to look out of the window. It’s late so there’s barely anyone out but there’s a few stragglers walking the street, a couple of people rushing home after a super long day at work. And two people walking hand-in-hand along the water edge. They seemed so into their own little bubble that a meteor could hit and they’d be none the wiser. Dean’s mouth lifted at the edge. 

Maybe he could have that one day. 

Fuck it. 

“I’ll do it.” He turned back to make eye contact with Castiel who had been patiently waiting for Dean to gather his thoughts, softly stroking Dean’s hand. 

The responding grin from Cas shone brighter than any of the street lights could ever hope to. 

*  *  *

Two days later, Dean packed up what little possessions he had in his car and started the road trip with Cas back to San Francisco. 

Castiel had insisted that Dean didn’t need to give him a ride, he’d happily fly like he’d originally planned, but Dean wasn’t having any of it. He saw it as a perfect opportunity for the two of them to catch up and learn each other. (Plus if he had to do the drive by himself, he was scared he’d change his mind and turn right back around.)

Dean decided not to contact Sam and tell him about his move just yet. He wanted to be sure it was going to work out before getting him involved. He left a note for John but he doubted his father would ever see it. 

It turns out Cas is still as funny and goofy as he was in high school. People shouldn’t be fooled by the tattoos that covered his arms (which Dean looked forward to seeing more of when they got to know each other better). He looked all the part of a punk ass dude but really he was a dork who had a slightly questionable obsession with bees. 

Dean laughed more on that road trip than he had in years. 

*  *  *

It was early evening by the time they arrived at Castiel’s apartment. The sun was casting an orange light through the windows, which made the whole place quietly glow. 

As soon as Dean walked through the door he knew he was home. He wouldn’t be turning back. 

Castiel took Dean by the hand and showed him to his new room. Forgetting the room itself for a moment, the view from the window was beautiful, the evening sun filtered across the bed. Dean could see himself being happy here. 

“It’s not much,” Castiel said, “but it’s yours now and you can do whatever you want with it.” He smiled warmly at Dean. 

Dean beamed back at him. “I’ll wait until I’ve actually got a job before I plan any home improvements,” he chuckled, “Gotta start paying rent first.” 

“Dean, take your time, honestly, it’s ok-” 

Dean’s finger on Castiel’s lips stopped the other man from speaking. “Cas, dude, first thing tomorrow I am job hunting. You’ve given me a chance when I probably didn’t deserve it. I’m going to spend the rest of my life repaying you.” He blushed slightly at what his last few words sounded like, though the idea wasn’t completely unwelcome. 

Castiel understood the unintentional double meaning too, if the pink on his cheeks was anything to go by. 

*  *  * 

Dean still had his bad days. Days when he couldn’t help but feel like such a burden to everyone around him, Castiel especially. Days when all he wanted to do was pack up and run away. Even some days when he wanted to look for the nearest bridge again. 

But for every one of those days, Dean had plenty more that made him keep fighting. For every day that he fell to the floor, he had someone to fight his corner and pick him back up again. 

And, in the end, Dean never needed to redecorate his room. It turned into the guest room less than two months after he arrived. 

-

A/N: I went on a bit of a rollercoaster with this one! First I hated it, now I quite like it and am thinking of doing a couple of timestamps/sequels in the future maybe.

If you liked what you saw, REBLOG! and consider reserving a prompt from my ‘30 Destiel Prompts’ challenge, or just send me your own prompt you’d like me to fill! 

- 

TAGS: @eccentriccas @starrynightdeancas @credentiast @imbiowaresbitch @starclaire @cockleslovesdestiel @bend-me-shape-me @destielfactory @dea-stiel @wendeano @wingsandimpalas @aggressivedean @flowersforcas @chill-legilimens @pancakesofthelord @saltnhalo @caslikescoffeeandfreckles @assbuttboyfriends @jhoomwrites @breathingdestiel @simplymisha @thekingslover

(just tagging a bunch of cool peeps, let me know if you want to be tagged/removed in future works)

#destiel #destiel fic #destielfanficnet #dean winchester #castiel #suicidal thoughts cw #suicide plans cw #fluff #angst #sad #hurtcomfort #au #3k #friends to lovers #punk!cas #doctor!cas #mechanic!dean #it's still just about sunday so i'm sticking to my posting schedule lmao #did not intend for this to be so long #it kinda got away from me #but im okay with that #now goodnight #myfic

[css1992]

Secret Smile

Prompt/Summary:“After being in a relationship for years, Peter is finally back on the market. Tony immediately rushes to make his interest known, but he didn’t realize he had competition. (Maybe a college AU? Or something where they’re closer in age)”

Warnings: Explicit, 18+, mentions of an abusive relationship (not between main pairing, not explicit), violence (not between main pairing), mentions of blood, jealousy. If you find anything triggering, please let me know!

Word count:13.4k

-x-

Finally, he laid eyes on him.

Peter was standing in the corner, drink in hand, and his eyes looked sad, but there was relief in his lose, smiling lips. Tony sometimes forgot how beautiful he was, how the corner of his eyes crinkled when he laughed; how his lips always looked soft an inviting, even when they were set in a straight line; how his curls always looked messy and bouncy; and how he used to be his.

In a way.

It was easy to forget Tony used to be the center of his attention, easy to forget how he used to look at him like he hung the moon. How he said things without using words, how he had this specific, secret smile that he used only for Tony. It was easy to forget because he used to think he would have time to commit all those things to memory. He used to think he had all the time in the world – but, as it turned out, time was a fickle thing.

So he didn’t want to waste it anymore, not again.

He stalked towards Peter and saw the exact moment when he noticed his presence. It was like the younger man had a radar, he could tell when Tony was looking at him, no matter from how far, no matter how many other people were around them. It was like he could smell him from miles away, he would look around and their eyes would meet before Tony could ever look away. And always, without fail, that beautiful, slow smile would spread across his lips, even if all he ever did was wave silently at him.

Even if they never talked anymore.

Peter looked surprised and the smile faltered a little when he noticed Tony was heading his way. The older boy took a deep breath and kept moving through the sweaty, dancing bodies that separated them in the living room. When he finally reached him, his eyes were wide, mouth hanging open, cheeks flushed. He looked breathless – and breathtakingly beautiful.

“Hey,” the older boy greeted, because how else could he bridge that two-year gap when they didn’t speak to each other, just smiled and waved politely from across the room?

“Tony,” Peter breathed out, still looking a little surprised, but mostly confused, and Tony couldn’t blame him. They used to be inseparable in high school, but ever since he left for college, it was never the same again, not even when Peter followed him a year later.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” he said dumbly, and Peter frowned, but smiled anyway.

“We see each other every week.” He dropped his gaze to look at his feet, hands buried in his pockets. They took Professor Strange’s class together, so, yeah, of course they saw each other every week. Stupid Tony.

“No, yeah, I mean, we haven’t talked in a while,” which was the understatement of the century, of course. Tony was going to say something clever, but it slipped his mind when Peter raised his eyes to meet his gaze again and the older man finally noticed that his cheeks weren’t just flushed – his left cheekbone was bruised. It was a little swollen and purplish, just under his eye. Before Tony could think twice, his hand flew up to cup his face carefully, and Peter flinched for a fraction of a second, before leaning into the touch, eyes fluttering closed. “What –“

Someone coughed loudly to his left and it was like some kind of spell was instantly broken. Tony was reminded that they weren’t alone in some alternate universe where only they existed, but rather at a very loud, very crowded party.

“Uh – Sorry! Uhm, Tony, this is Harry!” Peter jumped away from him and Tony’s eyes flew to the guy next to him. He looked expensive and aristocratic in a way that Howard would probably want him to look, his clothes were impeccable, his hair carefully gelled back. He had high cheekbones, straight brows, and eyes that glared daggers at him, clearly telling him to fuck off. “He’s a friend. Harry, this is Tony, he, uh – we used to go to school together.”

Tony pretended that it didn’t hurt that now all that he was to Peter was an old acquaintance – it was mostly his fault, anyway. He focused on the purplish bruise on his cheek, ignoring the hand that the other boy extended to him in greeting.

“What happened to your face?” He asked, raising his fingers to try and touch it again, but Peter dodged them immediately.

“It’s nothing.” He looked intently into his eyes and Tony knew what he meant – let it go. And he wished he had a right to demand an answer, but of course he didn’t. He was just someone he went to school with.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” He glanced sideways at the other guy who stood that much closer to Peter now, frowning, trying to assert some dominance or something, but the younger man seemed barely aware of his presence.

“He – I – we’re not together anymore.” And Tony knew that, of course. Had known for a week, Natasha called him as soon as she heard it from Wanda. She didn’t know many details, but she said it was ugly, which begged the question: how ugly? Why was Peter’s face bruised?

And who the fuck was Harry, anyway, and what the fuck was he doing with an arm around Peter’s waist?

“Hm,” Tony muttered, eyes lingering on Harry’s fingers brushing Peter’s hipbone, and he noticed when the younger boy discreetly pulled away until he let go of him. “Do you wanna get out of here?” He asked, casually, like they could still say stuff like that to each other, and Peter was taken aback.

“Dude, we were having a private conversation here, wh –“

“Fuck off.” Tony didn’t spare the other guy a glance, eyes focused on Peter, who shook his head, as if getting out of a trance.

“No, he’s right, Tony, I – sorry, I can’t go with you. I’ll see you around, okay?” He waited for an answer for a few seconds, but when Tony said nothing and didn’t make any move to leave, he sighed. “Ok. C’mon, Harry.” He walked away in the general direction of the backdoor of the house the party was being held at and Tony let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, when he felt a firm hand land on his shoulder.

“Tough night, huh?” When he looked over his shoulder, it was Nat, smiling pitifully at him.

“Something like that.” He rubbed a hand across his forehead, turning around to face her. He accepted the red cup she offered him. “Do you know this Harry?”

“Harry Osborn. He’s been following Peter around like a lost puppy for a few months now, I think Peter and Beck’s fight had something to do with him, you know he was a jealous fucker.” Yeah, Tony knew. It was one of the reasons he and Peter hadn’t talked in nearly two years before that night.

“Do you think Peter likes him?” He asked, quietly, and the redhead shrugged, looking in the direction they had wandered off to.

“I’m not sure, he never tells him to fuck off, but he’s too polite to do that anyway, so.” She looked back at him with a serious gaze, brows furrowed. “Why, gonna give up that easily?”

“Of course not, I just –” Tony looked into his cup, biting his lower lip. “He didn’t seem too excited to see me, it’s all.” He shrugged, a little defeated, and Nat chuckled.

“He was a little shocked, you haven’t talked to him in years, give him some time.” She smiled, slapping his arm encouragingly. “C’mon, Romeo, the night is still young.”

But not young enough, it seemed. Tony didn’t see Peter again until a few hours later, when he watched him leave with Harry’s fucking arm around his shoulder and it felt like losing him, all over again.

–*–  

One day, Tony blinked and Peter was taken.

Suddenly, that sweet boy who was always by his side, with huge, bright eyes and that innocent, wishful look on his face, went off with someone else. Which was – unexpected. Unexpected, yes, because Tony saw the way he looked at him, the way his eyes glinted as he listened to him, the way his cheeks burned a lovely pink when they touched, the way that shy, secret smile made its way across his face whenever they were close enough.

Tony knew Peter was in love with him, the boy couldn’t keep it a secret if he tried.

And he loved him, too. He loved the sound of his voice as he explained chemical equations Tony pretended not to understand, just to hear him talk nerdy. He loved how silly he looked when someone said something unexpectedly funny and he let out a surprised giggle. He loved his small, steady hands, that were always helpful in the workshop Howard set up for him back home. He loved his weird left eyebrow, which seemed to be perpetually disheveled.

He did. The timing just wasn’t right.

They were so young when they first met, Peter hadn’t even had his first kiss yet, all those years ago at Midtown High. Tony remembered falling in love with him on their way from the AP Physics classroom to the cafeteria, remembered stealing his first kiss after school by his car, in the parking lot, and panicking right after because he just wasn’t ready.

For commitment, for Peter.

But to be honest, he was so sure he was always going to be there, he wasn’t in any rush. He thought he could take his time before he settled down with Peter, so he dated other people – although, to be fair, it wasn’t really dating, it was just fooling around, he was just having fun, it didn’t mean anything. Even so, he knew it made the younger boy miserable. He pretended not to notice how red and puffy his eyes were some days, when rumors were spread about Tony’s hook-ups.

He thought he had all the time in the world, so he took it.

He left for MIT a year earlier than Peter and that was when it all went south. Because of Quentin Fucking Beck. He was charming, handsome and a genius in his own right. None of those things mattered to Peter, Tony knew, he was such a nice boy. What won him over were the niceties, the card on valentine’s day, the innocent teddy bear on his birthday, the invitation to senior prom. Tony fucking knew and he should have seen it coming, but he was cocky, he was confident that Peter loved him above all those little gestures, that he loved him enough to look past those and wait. Wait for him to be ready. Because he must have known, right? He must have known that Tony loved him, too. Wanted him, too.

But Peter didn’t know, it seemed.

Because he went off with Beck, he kissed him at the end of the night at prom, he went home with him, lost his virginity to him, then called Tony the next morning and told him all about it. Tony thought maybe it was just – maybe Peter was confused, maybe it wasn’t serious, because he loved Tony, why would he want to be with Beck?

The older boy went back home for the summer break, after a year away. He thought it would all go back to normal, that he and Peter would see each other everyday, hang out together in Tony’s workshop – the only place he felt at home – or at Peter’s place, and he would realize he was wasting his time with Beck. Tony was ready by then, the thought of losing Peter to someone else was enough of a wake-up call, so he was ready to settle down, he was ready for commitment.

Peter was waiting for him at the airport and jumped in his arms as soon as his Tony-radar picked up on him. He kept him company when he went home to face Howard, but then he had to leave early because he had a date with Beck. Which was okay, really. The following day, Tony went to visit May and they hung out for a while, but soon after, Beck was there, too. The next day he made plans to catch a movie with Peter and, sure enough, he showed up with Quentin attached to his hip.

And Peter laughed at his jokes and let him hold him by the waist and let him whisper in his ear and payed attention to every word he said, like it fucking mattered, and it didn’t, because seriously, that guy was a prick, he was arrogant and full of himself and – what the fuck was Peter doing with him?

Beck started tagging along every-fucking-where they went, even in the workshop. Tony slowly began to notice that it wasn’t because he wanted to be with Peter at all times, at least not only because of that. He was jealous – possessive, even. Whenever Tony got physically close to the younger boy, he’d glare at him, sometimes he even “playfully” pulled Peter back. If Tony ever suggested he and Peter do something just the two of them, for old time’s sake, the younger man looked uncertain, almost nervous, so he stopped asking.  

At the same time, Peter seemed to miss their time together, too, but he couldn’t seem to be able to tell Beck to fuck off. He always had that apologetic look on his face when he asked if it was okay for Beck to come and Tony put on his best, fake smile when he said yes.

At first, Tony thought he could take it, he thought that he could hang out with them and not be weird, but he was wrong. It was fucking weird. Because he was in love with Peter and Peter was in love with someone else.

So Tony stopped calling as the weeks went by, then he stopped picking up Peter’s calls, then he stopped answering his texts until they were reduced to only exchanging waves and smiles by the end of the summer, as if they’d never been friends before.

To be honest, Tony thought it was temporary, because deep down he believed – had to believe – that  Peter still loved him, even if he was dating Beck. So, whatever, they wouldn’t talk for maybe a few months, but soon enough he would realize that Quentin was shit and that he was better off with Tony. But he didn’t. He kept dating Beck for two fucking years and when Tony finally accepted that he had missed his chance and that he should move on and find someone new, Nat called him. And he decided he wouldn’t waste any time this time around and still, somehow, he was fucking late.

Because of Harry fucking Osborn.

– *–

Two days after the party, Peter posted a selfie on Instagram. He was lying in bed looking cozy and sleepy, the caption read “Three more weeks to go”, probably referring to the upcoming spring break. He looked effortlessly beautiful and soft, but what drew Tony’s attention, what got his heart pumping and his hands shaking was the glimpse of a dark blue hoodie with yellow strings that looked an awful lot like the one Tony had lent him in high school and never got back.

Did Peter do that on purpose? He must have known Tony would see it, right? Was that a sign? He was wearing his clothes, for fuck’s sake.

“Nice hoodie.” He shot him a DM and bit his nails as he waited for Peter to see it. For some reason, he thought he might not answer at all. Tony was still a little disappointed by the way he reacted at the party, but he didn’t even know what he’d been expecting. He was the asshole, after all, he was the one who stopped picking up the phone.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t recognize it, in case you’d want it back.” Tony’s heart did a little back flip in his rib cage and a wide smile spread across his face. It was a playful answer, a peace offering.  And maybe it meant he’d been thinking of him when he took that picture, maybe even before that, when he put on the hoodie. Did he wear it often?

“Well, then you shouldn’t have posted that pic, I’d recognize it anywhere. It brings back lots of good memories.” Like walking back to Peter’s place after going to the movies together, wrapping said hoodie around his shoulders when he saw him shiver, hanging out at his place until late that night, getting yelled at by May for putting his feet on the couch, going home hoodieless, thinking that the next day he’d be leaving for Boston and wouldn’t be seeing Peter for a while. Little did they know they’d never have nights like that again after that day.

“So you want it back?” He asked with a sad emoji and Tony couldn’t help but smile to himself, shaking his head no to no one in particular.

“Nah, it’s yours. It has always suited you better, anyway.” Peter didn’t write anything back for a few minutes, and Tony was afraid it was the end of the conversation, but then another message came.

“Not true, you looked pretty good in it.” Tony puffed out his chest proudly and felt stupid when he realized Peter wouldn’t see it, then quickly started typing.  

“Never said I didn’t, you’re just way cuter in it, what with the sleeves hanging off your hands and all.” He was again nervous for Peter’s answer, which came quickly.

“I just have short arms.” He sent it with the emoji of the little monkey covering its eyes. For whatever reason, it reminded Tony of the bruise on his face at the party, and it bothered him to no end that he still didn’t know what happened. Well, deep in his heart, he did, he just didn’t want to believe it was true, because if it was – then it meant he’d failed Peter.

“Hey, how’s your face? I was worried the other night.” He asked, trying to make it sound casual, but he knew it probably wouldn’t work, which proved to be true when Peter’s evasive answer came.

“No need to be, it’s fine.” Before Tony could say anything else, he sent another message.“Did you have a good time at the party?”

“Not really, I felt lonely,” He smiled to himself, again feeling silly because he was alone in his room and no one would see it.

“There were a lot of people there.” Tony could imagine his face, the smart glint in his eyes, already knowing what the answer would be. Or maybe he was insecure and shy, blushing as he waited for the answer. Or maybe he didn’t care at all and Tony was an idiot to think he might be interested in him. He preferred to believe the first option, so he answered accordingly.

“Yeah, but I was hoping to spend time with someone else. But he kinda disappeared on me.”

“Oh, yeah?” He imagined his secret smile making its way across his face, lighting up the whole room. “Next time look harder for him, then, I’m sure he didn’t actually disappear.” Tony’s heart fluttered.

“I will.” He answered and Peter was silent for several minutes, so he thought the conversation was over, but because he was a masochist asshole, he asked, “So, you and Harry, huh?”

“What about it?” He didn’t offer any information.

“You two seem close.” Tony said, dumbly, and Peter’s answer didn’t take long to arrive.

“We are.” And it crushed his chest, completely erasing the good feeling he had when the conversation started.

“Cool.”

“See you in class?” Peter sent as a way of goodbye and Tony thought it was a good thing there was no one in his room after all, so no one would see how his face fell.

“Sure, see you.”

–*–

Tony was always late to Professor Strange’s class, because it took place at ass o’clock in the morning every Thursday. Luckily, the grumpy, old man liked him well enough that he was always allowed in with only a threatening, “You are late. Again”, but nothing ever came of it, so it was fine. That Thursday, though, he was up early, too excited and anxious to see Peter again now that they were talking. So he hurried to the physics building and would have gotten in without paying any mind to his surroundings if he hadn’t heard Peter’s voice coming from the side of the building. He quietly turned around the corner and watched as Beck stared down at the shorter boy, who had his back to the wall.

“Tell me I’m wrong, tell me you weren’t fucking him when we were together, I dare you! We’ve been apart for three weeks and you’ve been walking around with him like you’re his fucking bitch!” His light blue eyes bulged out of his eye-sockets and made him look like a madman ready to pounce, but Peter stood his ground.

“You’re sick, Beck, you’re paranoid and obsessive and I told you, I won’t take it anymore! Back the fuck off and leave me the fuck alone, I’m serious!” He tried to push away from the wall, but the older man pushed him back, making him slam his head against the side of the building.

“You little whore!” He grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and Tony finally jumped into action. He rushed to them and before they even noticed him, he barreled into Beck.

“Hey, asshole, get the fuck away from him!” Beck was caught off guard and tripped, walking few steps backwards before he fell on his butt. Tony didn’t look back to check on Peter, he kept his focus on Quentin, who looked at him with fury in his eyes. “Don’t you fucking touch him, you piece of shit!”

“He’s not worth it, jerk, you’ll find out soon enough.” He got up and brushed his hands down his pants. “He’s a lying, cheating, little cockslut and before you know it he’ll be sucking someone else’s dick while you –“ Tony grabbed him by the collar and even though they were the same height, he was able to lift him a little off the ground, noses almost touching.

“If you say another word about him, I’ll fucking murder you,” he threatened, almost in a whisper.

“Fuck this,” Beck slapped his hand away from his shirt and pushed him for good measure, but Tony didn’t move and inch. He glared at him for a few more seconds and scoffed, shaking his head, hands raised in surrender. “You two deserve each other,” he said, walking away, not sparing a glance Peter’s way.  

“Are you okay?” When Tony turned around and looked at Peter, he was slumped against the wall, both of his hands covering his face as he sobbed. “Oh God, did he hurt you?” He rushed to his side, checking for visible injuries, but Peter shook his head.  

“I’m fine,” he managed to say between sobs, and Tony quickly gathered him in his arms, letting him bury his face in his chest, soaking his shirt in tears in the process. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to –”

“I know, it’s okay, he’s gone now.” He petted his hair, holding him even closer and tighter and Peter responded in the same way.

“How could I be so blind for so long?” He raised his eyes to look at Tony and the older boy ran a hand down his face, trying to stop the flood of tears that wouldn’t rolling down his cheeks.

“It’s – You didn’t...” Tony didn’t know how to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that Beck was fucking toxic, abusive. It felt so fucking weird to acknowledge the fact that Peter was in an abusive relationship, he felt so fucking guilty. He should have noticed it from the start, from the very first few times he hung out with them, there were so many tells, but he was blinded by jealousy. So stupidly jealous he abandoned Peter when he needed him the most. He was childish and selfish and Peter got hurt – how could he ever forgive himself for that?

“I feel so stupid,” he whispered, drying his tears roughly with the sleeve of his denim jacket, which left red marks on the delicate skin of his cheeks. Before Tony could stop him or say anything else, they heard another voice.

“Peter, is that you?” They both turned in time to see Harry jogging to meet them. As soon as he was within reaching distance, Peter fell into his arms. It shouldn’t bother Tony, it was definitely not the time to be jealous, but he couldn’t help the way his heart ached and his stomach sank when the younger man left the warmth of his arms to hold Harry. “God, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, sorry I scared you.” He was a little calmer by the time he answered and Harry cupped his cheeks in his hands, looking closely at his face, searching for something – Tony knew what and it drove him crazy that Peter was in such a situation that people assumed he was hurt.  

“When I got your text I thought that psycho was–“ Peter texted him, Tony thought, dropping his gaze to the floor, burying his hands in his pockets. Peter texted him. He wanted Harry to be there when he thought something bad might happen. Not Tony. Harry.

“I’m fine, Tony showed up and he left.” For the first time since he arrived, the other boy acknowledged his presence. He looked at Tony suspiciously and frowned, apparently annoyed that he was there.

“Oh. You.” He said as an accusation, as Peter let go of him to stand between them.

“Yeah. Me.” Tony straightened his back and puffed out his chest to seem a little taller and wider, but the other boy looked unimpressed.  

“Hm,” he muttered, looking him up and down with disdain, then turned to Peter. He extended an arm to reach for the younger man. “Come on, Pete, I’ll walk you to class.”

“It’s ok, Tony’s headed that way anyway, right?” Peter shrugged his arm off, looking at Tony for confirmation.

“Yeah, right. I’ll walk you,” he answered quickly and it was his turn to wrap an arm around Peter’s shoulders – and he wasn’t even sure if he was allowed to do that, but Peter didn’t seem to mind when his secret smile made its way across his face as he looked up at him.

“Are you sure?” Harry frowned, arms crossed over his chest, annoyed, but Peter nodded.

“Of course. It’s fine, Harry, seriously.” What the fuck did that asshole think he was going to do, anyway? Who died and named him Peter’s keeper?

“Okay. Okay, but call me after class, will you?” He sighed, burying his hands in his pockets, eyes focused on Tony’s hand on the younger boy’s shoulder, anger and jealousy clear in his brown eyes. It made Tony smirk slightly in triumph, which wasn’t lost on the other man.

“Ok, talk to you later.” Peter waved innocently at him, seemingly unaware of the tension between the two of them. Harry stared for a couple more seconds, before nodding and turning around to leave.

Although he had put on a brave front for Harry, Peter was still pretty shaken when he left, Tony didn’t even have the heart to get (too) jealous of their little interaction. Peter ran a hand through his hair and raised his bloodshot eyes to look at Tony, it was heartbreaking how sad they looked. Tony didn’t remember ever seeing him like that when they were younger and the guilt crushed his chest. He could have prevented that look on his face if he had stayed and taken care of him, no matter what.

“Beck is a jerk, none of what he said is true, you know that, right?” He almost whispered, they were so close, his arm around Peter’s shoulder allowed him to pull him closer, close enough that their faces were almost touching.

“I don’t care what he says about me, I just feel – embarrassed, you know? It took him literally –” He interrupted himself, but Tony knew exactly what he was going to say. There was so much information in his silence, it was maddening.

“That bruise on your face –“

“It was my wake-up call,” he said, definitive, not leaving any room for any questions. “It had never happened before and it’s never gonna happen again, because we’re not together anymore and eventually he’ll forget I exist, so let it go, ok?” Judging by his expression, it was clear that he knew exactly what Tony wanted to do to Beck.

“What about today? What if I hadn’t got here in time, what if –“

“I’m not that delicate, Tony,” he chuckled as he started walking to the building entrance, forcing Tony to walk alongside him. “I probably couldn’t take him in a fight, but I’m sure I could do some damage.” He looked up at him with a wicked smile and winked. It made Tony’s heart melt a little.

“I’m sure you could.” When they finally reached their classroom, Tony stopped and held Peter’s shoulders, forcing him to face him. “If he ever comes looking for you again, please let me know?” Peter chuckled, shaking his head a little.

“Between you and Harry scaring him off this past week, I doubt he’ll try anything anytime soon.” Of course. He had Harry. “C’mon, we’re already late to class.”

–*–

When Tony moved to Boston, he had to stay at the dorms for his first year, as was required by MIT. He didn’t mind it much, to be honest, it was noisy and messy, but so was most of his life, so it was fine. Besides, he got Rhodey as his roommate and they became fast friends, which was awesome. But of course it wasn’t good enough for a Stark, according to Howard, so in the beginning of his second year, he got Tony an apartment close to campus. It had three bedrooms and an open kitchen, separated from the living room by a counter, and it was huge.

At first, it was fun having the whole place to himself, but after a year alone, he invited Rhodey to live with him, and it was the best idea he’d had yet, they spent all of their free time playing video games, drinking beer and tinkering, when they didn’t have friends over.

They were having a quiet night in, Rhodey was studying for finals and Tony was giving DUM-e a few touch-ups, when he decided to take a break to check his phone. Of course, as he did every time, the first thing he checked was Peter’s Instagram. There weren’t any new pictures – he wasn’t the type of person who posted everyday, it was more like once a week – but there were new Instagram stories. It was a series of short videos of him rambling about his tests and how he couldn’t wait for spring break, so Tony took the opportunity to shoot him a message.

“Someone’s excited for spring break. Do you have plans?” He asked casually, but his heart was pumping, he always wondered if Peter got excited to speak to him, too.

“Hey! No plans, I just really need a break right now. Lol. Why do you ask?” He answered almost immediately, and Tony smiled.

“No reason, you just seem really excited about it. Are you gonna be in town?” In all honesty, it was just an innocent question, because Peter could want to go visit May, but the answer took his breath away for a second.

“Yeah, why? Are you gonna ask me out or are you just stalking me?” The message was accompanied by a smiley face with the tongue sticking out.

“Do you want me to ask you out?” He sent back with the smirking face emoji.

“Answering a question with another question? Rude.” Tony held back a smile, biting his lower lip.

“I’m sorry, the answer is yes, I’m asking you out, what’s yours?” Go big or go home, he figured, and Peter seemed interested, so what the hell?

“You’ll know when you ask me.” He sent the emoji with the tongue sticking out again.

“I just did!” Tony argued, laughing to himself, he could almost see Peter’s secret smile in his mind.

“I’m sure you can do better than that. I’ll wait. So you’re not going back to New York for the break either?” He quickly changed the subject, which was fine, at least Tony knew that he was definitely interested, even if just a little.

“Yikes, no way. Twice a year is way too many times already.” He was suddenly reminded that he still had to call his mom to give her his final answer.

“Lol. If I remember your mom correctly, she must be calling non-stop.” Tony smiled again. Peter and Maria used to get along weirdly well for a nerdy teenager and an old, slightly stuck-up socialite. Tony even caught them trading stories about him once, it was terrifying. And a little heartwarming.  

“Only everyday for a month now.” And he wasn’t even joking, Maria called daily to ask him to come home for spring break. And if it were for her, he would, but there was Howard.  

“Lol.”

“She asks about you sometimes.”  

“And what do you say?”

“That you don’t love me anymore.” He sent it before he could overthink the answer. It took Peter a full minute to write back.

“You’re a menace, Tony Stark. Next time tell her the truth: that YOU got fed up with me.” To soften the blow, he sent a laughing emoji. “Tell her I said hello.”

“That’s not true, I’m here now, aren’t I?” Before Peter could ask what was the truth, then, because that was a conversation Tony wasn’t ready for, he added. “I’ll tell her you said hi.”

“See you next Thursday?”

“Can’t wait.”

–*–

“Dude, calm down, I’m pretty sure he’ll still be there five minutes from now,” Rhodey chuckled, watching Tony with a bemused expression after he jumped up from the couch and rushed to the bathroom. He ran his hands through his hair to make sure it was a carefully planned mess, put on his best cologne and decided to change shirts – maybe something a little tighter across the chest, something that would show off his biceps better.

“I’m sure he’ll be there all night long, but I need to be the first to get to him, I swear to God, if that Osborn asshole gets there before I do, I’m losing my shit.” He made his way into his bedroom as he heard his roommate laughing from the living room.

“Just ask Nat to keep him busy until you get there,” Rhodey leaned against his bedroom door and Tony turned around and spread his arms, showing off the t-shirt he had picked up. It was plain black, with little holes in it, and just a tad too small. His friend gave him a thumbs up.

“I did, I just don’t know how long she can keep that creep away.” He sat on the bed to put on his sneakers and missed the way Rhodey smirked.

“Knowing her, I’d bet on pretty fucking long.” He wasn’t wrong, Natasha was scary as fuck, but still, Tony couldn’t risk it.

Just a few minutes earlier, he was lounging on the couch playing Counter Strike with Rhodey when Peter posted a picture on Instagram. He was all dressed up in tight fitting jeans, a light pink sweater and his old, beat-up vans. His curls were brushed back and he was smiling at the camera. The caption read, “#SpringBreakWarmUp”. Tony immediately sent him a DM.

“Hey! Spring break warm-up, huh?” He asked nervously, wondering where Peter was going and, more importantly, with whom.

“Yeah, you’re coming, right?” He answered just a few seconds later, and Tony was relieved he hadn’t been ignored.

“Coming where?” He tried to remember if he had any plans for the weekend, but none came to mind.

“Thor’s party! He said you were coming?” Tony slapped his forehead, he thought the party was the following weekend. But more importantly, had Peter asked Thor if Tony was coming?

“Oh, yeah, sure! Yeah, I’m on my way, where are you?” Of course he was nowhere near the party, but he could make it happen.

“I’m already here! See you soon, then.” As soon as he read that text, he jumped out of the couch, scaring the living shit out of Rhodey.

So excuse Tony if he was driving like a madman to the party, even if his older friend was begging him to slow down from the passenger seat.

“You can’t fuck him if you’re dead!” He shouted from his right and Tony just chuckled and said nothing. He told Rhodey a very short and edited version of his history with Peter, he left out words like “love” and “yearning” and “pining”, so he probably thought Tony just had crush on him.  

When he got to the party, it was already in full swing. There were people hanging outside and the door was open, Tony could hear loud music coming from the living room. He and Rhodey walked in and were almost immediately engulfed by Thor’s embrace and booming voice welcoming them. They chatted for a few minutes, but Tony was a man on a mission.

“Hey, have you seen Peter by any chance?” He tried to sound casual as he looked around the room, trying to catch a glimpse of Nat’s fiery red hair, but Thor smiled knowingly at him.

“The two of you should have made arrangements to come together instead of asking around for each other.” He winked at Tony with one of his blindingly white smiles, and the brunette gasped.

“He asked about me?” He might have squeaked, but the music was really loud, so who knew, but Thor’s booming laugh told him otherwise.

“Ah, you kids.” He shook his head, placing a heavy hand on Tony’s shoulder. “He’s in the kitchen.”

Tony wanted to repeat his question, but he had embarrassed himself more than enough for one night, so he just smiled thankfully and rushed towards the kitchen. Well, tried, he was stopped by the “newly-wed” couple, Steve and Bucky, who had just moved in together and were even more annoyingly perfect than ever.

They tried to strike up a conversation about home décor, of all things, but he left Rhodey with them – not without getting a threatening look that said “you’ll pay for this”, but oh well – and kept searching, until he finally saw Nat talking animatedly to Peter by the kitchen counter.

“Hey there!” He approached them and tried to look – well, like he hadn’t basically run there after Peter messaged him.

“Tony!” And it paid off, because the younger man seemed really excited to see him, he smiled brightly up at him and, best of all, Harry was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, I’m gonna go talk to Wanda, see you guys later.” He barely noticed as Natasha made her exit, Peter didn’t seem to care either, all his focus was on Tony and it reminded him of how they were in high school. Living in their own little world.

“Hey, for a minute there I thought you weren’t coming,” Peter said, getting a little closer to Tony so he could hear him over the music. He looked amazing, his clothes were clearly new, his hair was bouncy and shiny and he smelled incredible. It made Tony a little self-conscious because he had just jumped out of the couch and changed shirts, now he wished he had taken a little more time to get ready.

“Yeah, I almost forgot that was today,” He scratched the back of his head and Peter gifted him with one of his secret smiles.

“Figures, I bet you had other places to be.” He bumped him with his shoulder and that innocent touch was enough to send a jolt of electricity down Tony’s arm.

“Only one where I could find you, though, so here I am.” He winked and Peter blushed and pushed his shoulder like a younger version of him would have, anytime Tony flirted shamelessly with him back in high school.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, still smiling, then pointed to the backdoor over his shoulder. “There’s a keg out back, do you wanna…?”

“Yeah, sure, lead the way.” He followed Peter outside, where there was a big yard with a pool. They each grabbed a cup of beer and stood close to the water. The music wasn’t too loud out there, which allowed them to talk more easily. “So, where’s your guard dog?” Tony asked and watched as Peter frowned for a second, before realization dawned on him and he laughed.

“Who, Harry?” He asked, amused, and Tony nodded. “He couldn’t make it, he’s packing, he’s going home for the break.”

“Ah, what a shame,” Tony said, sarcastically, and Peter laughed again.

“You don’t like him very much, do you?” Tony looked at him with a look that screamed “you think?!” and Peter chuckled. “Funny. He’s not a fan of you, either.”

Of course he wasn’t, Tony thought, huffing, but didn’t say it. Before he could change the subject, though, he heard something. It was quiet and discreet, but Tony caught it, and so did Peter, if the way his face fell and his smile disappeared were any indication.

“Slut.”

He didn’t need to look to know who it was and who the person was talking to, so Tony didn’t waste any time when he turned around, he only stopped long enough to aim right at their nose and punched, making sure to put all of his body weight and force behind it. Beck swayed and, for a minute, it looked like he was going to topple over and fall in the pool, so Tony grabbed him by the collar. It was the first time he got to look at him after he knew for sure what he’d done to Peter, and it took all of his willpower not to smash his head in, but he knew the younger man wouldn’t want that.  

“Oh, my God! Tony –“

“Let’s make something clear, right here, right now.” He didn’t pay any mind to the people gathering around them, nor to the fact that there was a decent amount of blood running down Beck’s nose, he even pretended not to feel the way Peter was trying to pull him away, he was focused on those crazy blue eyes. “You don’t get to talk to Peter anymore. Ever. You’re not worthy of him, you don’t get to call him names, you don’t get to look at him, you don’t even get to breathe the same air as him, so if I ever see you within breathing distance of him again, we’re gonna have problems, Beck, do I make myself clear?” Beck stared at him with huge, scared eyes, blinking rapidly as if to trying to remain conscious.

“You’re ins--”

“Do I make myself clear?” He shook him hard for good measure, and it seemed to cause his nose to  bleed even more. “It’s a simple yes or no question!”

“Yes, fuck off!” His hands tried to weakly pry Tony’s away from his collar, but he didn’t succeed.

“Good, get the hell away from my face.” He pushed him with enough force that it almost sent him straight to the floor, but some friend of his held him up and they scurried away. Slowly, things went back into motion, it appeared, Tony could hear the music again, people started talking to each other loudly and some of them were dancing. He kept breathing hard, trying to regain his calm and gather enough courage to face Peter, who should be mad at him for making a scene.  

“I wish you hadn’t done that.” In the end, it was his sweet, quiet voice that lured him back to reality and he turned around to meet the smaller boy with his arms crossed over his chest, but he didn’t look nearly as pissed off as Tony thought he would be.

“I don’t. I wish I could have killed him.” He could barely believe how true that statement was and Peter must have noticed, too, because his eyes widened a little, before the muscles around his mouth softened in that secret smile of his.

“Well, thanks for – I don’t know, protecting my honor, I guess?” He chuckled, letting his arms fall to his sides, before grabbing Tony’s right hand, which was a little bruised and dirty with Beck’s blood. He examined it for a few seconds, then looked up at the older man. “Just don’t ever do that again, okay? I’m sure we can find other ways to keep him away.”

We, he said. He didn’t want to do that alone, he wanted Tony to help, he wanted Tony to be there for him. We.

Tony smiled breathlessly and nodded, squeezing the small hand that was still in his. He looked around, worrying his lower lip, then looked back at Peter.  

“Do you wanna get out of here? I have a six-pack back home,” He suggested as he pulled him a little closer and the younger man shot him a slightly shocked and surprised look. “Wh –no! It’s not what – I mean, we could go for some coffee instead, really, whatever you want, I just don’t feel like staying here, but I will, if you want, I just –“ Before he could finish his ramble, Peter started giggling, shaking his head.

“I could really use a beer. And I guess I don’t wanna stay, either,” He shrugged and Tony smiled, taking his hand to lead him back inside.

They quickly said their goodbyes to their friends and Tony let Rhodey know that Peter would be over. His friend quietly pulled him to the side as Peter talked to Wanda and asked if he needed him to crash somewhere else for the night and it almost made the brunette burst out laughing. “I wish,” he told him. Peter would probably stay for a few beers and leave early, if he knew him. Rhodey shrugged and said he would crash at Carol’s, just to be sure, and Tony clapped him on the back and thanked him.

He and Peter walked to Tony’s car, the air was cold, not terribly so, but the older man regretted not having a jacket when he saw Peter shivering. He had a little déjà-vu about their last night together in New York, almost three years and a half earlier, the day Peter kept his hoodie. They were walking to his place from the movies, the air was a little chilly, summer was almost over. Peter’s cheeks were flushed and when Tony wrapped an arm around his shoulder, he looked up at him and shivered. The older man quickly unzipped his hoodie and wrapped Peter’s smaller body in it.

It felt like a lifetime ago now.

When they got inside the car, Tony made sure the heater was on max as Peter rubbed his hands together, pulling the sleeves of his sweater down.

“Sorry, I don’t have a jacket to lend you, but it’s gonna warm up soon.” He smiled apologetically and the other boy waved a hand dismissively.

“It’s for the best, you’d never get it back if you did.” He batted his eyelashes playfully and Tony laughed as he started the car and pulled out of the driveway. They were quiet for a few seconds, but it was a nice, comfortable silence.

“How’s your aunt?” Tony asked, just to make small talk, but also because he liked May, she was really cool, although she sometimes screamed at him for no reason, like the time he allegedly blew up her toaster.  

“She’s getting married, actually.” Peter looked amused and a little unsure. “To a doctor from this new hospital she’s working at. He seems like a nice guy.” He didn’t sound specially excited sharing the news.

“But you don’t like him?” Tony asked, confused, and the boy shook his head quickly.

“It’s not that. It’s just – It’s weird. I guess. For so long it was her, uncle Ben and me, then everything changed when uncle Ben died and we had to learn how to be a family just the two of us. Now it’s all changing again. I just feel weird when I come home to them, you know? It makes me feel a little like an outsider, like I’m intruding in their privacy. And it kinda makes me miss uncle Ben, for some reason. But he seems to make her really happy, so that’s more than I could ask for.” He shrugged and Tony smiled softly at him, he knew exactly what he meant. Peter blushed slightly, but smiled back. “How about your parents? Is your dad still on your case?”

“It’s a little better now that we’re in different states. Summer break is always a pain, though.” Tony felt like he and Howard would never get along and he was slowly getting used to that idea.  

“Well, if you ever need asylum, I hope you remember your way back to Queens,” Peter grinned at him and it warmed his heart. He didn’t trust his voice to answer so he just smiled and nodded. As if I could forget.

When they got to Tony’s building, the older man warned Peter not to mind the mess, but he was relieved to remember that he and Rhodey had tidied the place up a little just a couple of days earlier, so at least the living room and the kitchen should be fine. They rode up the elevator to the top floor and when they finally got to the apartment, Peter whistled lowly, looking around the spacious living room.

“Wow, this is awesome! Do you live here by yourself?” He asked, walking towards the couch. The  PlayStation controllers were still on the coffee table by the couch and there were a few empty beer bottles on the floor.

“I used to, Rhodey moved in a year ago, it was boring living here on my own.” He gestured for Peter to follow him to the kitchen, which he did, still in awe of the place.

“Cool! He’s that guy you were talking to before we left, right?” Peter and Rhodey had never met formally, when the younger man joined MIT, he and Tony weren’t talking anymore. Tony nodded, offering Peter one of the beer bottles he grabbed from the fridge, before leading the way back to the living room.

“Yeah, we were roommates my first year here.” They sat on the couch, but not too close to one another, and they both opened their drinks.  

“Remember we used to make plans about being roommates if we both got into MIT? We were such dorks,” Peter laughed with a reminiscent look on his face and Tony’s heart melted, because, yeah. He remembered.

“About that.” Tony took a deep breath and then a long gulp of his beer, before turning to face Peter in the eye. He owed him at least that. The younger man looked back at him curiously, head cocked to the side. “I owe you an apology,” he breathed out slowly and Peter frowned. “We had a great friendship and I screwed up royally, so. Sorry for being a shitty friend.” He bit his lip for a moment, watching Peter’s reaction, but his face didn’t move, so Tony took another long sip of his beer. “Say something.”

“I –“ Peter started, but then paused, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head. “I just never really understood what happened. I mean, I can see now that Beck was a jerk and it must have been a pain to hang out with him when we were together, but you just –“ He smiled sadly, looking down at his beer. “You didn’t even answer my calls anymore,” he mumbled the last part, as if Tony didn’t feel terrible already. “Was it something I did?”

“What? No, of course not. I was –“ He debated for all of three seconds if he should tell the truth, but he was too much of a coward and so not ready for that particular conversation. “I guess I was feeling a little like a third wheel, maybe. And I really didn’t like him. It was stupid, it’s not gonna happen again.” Peter nodded slowly, staring at him as if he could find out the truth if he looked hard enough.

“Okay.” He was silent after that, his nose scrunched up in a cute way, as if he was thinking hard, trying to understand something, trying to make a decision. He downed the rest of his beer in one go and Tony thought he hadn’t bought his terrible excuse, so he was going to try to explain himself better, but Peter was faster. He slid across the couch and sat right beside him, then grabbed Tony’s bottle and drank the rest of his beer, too, placing the empty bottles on the coffee table. Tony just stared a him in confusion. “Uhm. I’m gonna do something crazy, so just – I’m sorry in advance.” And just like that, he kissed him.

Tony would be lying if he said it tasted familiar, that it took him back to that awkward first kiss in the school parking lot, leaning against his car. It was completely different, it was like kissing someone else for the first time, Peter was different. He wasn’t awkward or shy when his soft hands grasped Tony’s face and pulled him closer, when his tongue begged for entrance in his mouth. He tasted like beer when their tongues touched, and it must have gotten Tony immediately drunk, because he lost control over his own actions just like that. His fingers found Peter’s hips and started pulling him closer and closer, until the younger man climbed onto his lap and straddled his thighs.

It was heaven, that moment right there, engulfed in Peter’s smell, his hands getting lost in his hair, his lips demanding Tony to keep up, his body undulating discreetly on top of his, begging to be touched. Tony indulged him, his fingers squeezed the deliciously soft flesh of his hips, before making their way up to his waist then down to his lower back in an eager caress, pulling him even closer. His lips chased Peter’s like he was starved, never letting him get away for too long, maybe worried that he would wake up from a daydream if he stopped.

Peter bit and pulled on his lower lip and Tony groaned, hips bucking up and fingers squeezing Peter’s waist in anticipation. The smaller boy looked into his eyes for a fraction of a second, like he, too, didn’t want to wake up in case it was dream, then his lips slid across Tony’s scratchy cheek, down his jaw, then up to his earlobe, where he bit teasingly, his hot breath sending shivers down his spine when he heard the boy whisper a timid “please”.

It was all it took for Tony to grab him by the hips and flip him, laying him down on the couch and positioning himself between his legs. It was a tight fit, but he was afraid that if he suggested they moved things to the bedroom, it would be over. Peter whimpered when Tony let his weight rest against him, bodies touching from chest to groin, pressed closely together, rubbing against each other each time either of them moved.

Tony started sucking on Peter’s smooth neck as his hands dragged the offending sweater up his torso until it was bunched up under his armpits and his chest. Peter raised his arms and Tony took it off completely, mouth promptly latching onto a tiny, pale-pink nipple, which made the smaller man hiss, hands flying to entangle his fingers in the brunette’s hair.

Peter pulled the strands of Tony’s hair, as if he wanted him to stop his ministrations, but as soon as the older man’s mouth left his chest, he pulled him back down, moaning and squirming, seemingly undecided if he wanted more or less of Tony’s lips and teeth on him.

Meanwhile, the older man bit and sucked on his nipple, which became rigid and swollen, sensitive to the point that Peter couldn’t take it anymore and finally pulled him up for a kiss. Tony obliged happily, hips grinding down against Peter’s, feeling his erection rubbing against his, both so hard it hurt.

Peter started pulling Tony’s t-shirt urgently and the older brunette made just enough room so that he could take it off and drop it to the floor. They went back to kissing, Tony’s stubble leaving faint, red marks on Peter’s cheeks and down his neck, the boy under him whimpered and begged quietly – for what, exactly, neither of them was entirely sure.  

“Do you – uh – can we –“ Peter started, but didn’t seem capable of finishing his line of thought for a second, when Tony bit down on his jaw. “God – uhm, can we go to your room?” When Tony looked down at him, his cheeks were flushed and he wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed or hot.

“Of course,” he smiled, kissing his lips briefly, before wrapping Peter’s legs around his waist. “Hold tight.” With a little effort – which he would never let Peter notice – he was able to get up from the couch with the other boy in his arms, and he quickly moved to his bedroom. He kicked the door closed but didn’t bother locking it, since Rhodey said he wouldn’t come home that night – God bless him.

He carefully laid Peter down on the bed – which was miraculously made and clean – and his small frame was engulfed in the king-sized bed sheets and pillows, his flushed skin contrasting with the dark gray linens. Such a mouth-watering vision. Tony positioned himself between his legs again and stared shamelessly, as his hands traveled all over his bare chest and down his toned abs, until Peter blushed and grabbed his wrist, trying to pull him down.

“Stop that, c’mere,” he whined when Tony didn’t comply, choosing to keep staring at him for a few more seconds, before leaning down to kiss him deep and soft.

“You’re beautiful,” He whispered against his lips, one of his hands stroking Peter’s hip, close the waistband of his jeans. His fingers lightly made their way to the buttons on the front, where they rested against Peter’s lower abdomen. “Is this ok?” He asked, looking directly into his eyes, and although Peter’s face grew almost impossibly red, he nodded, breathing out an almost soundless “yes”.

It was all the permission he needed to undo his pants, dragging them down his legs along with his boxers, leaving Peter completely bare and exposed to him, like a dream, a vision. Not even his best fantasies – and he had quite a few – could live up to the real thing. Peter’s body was lithe, but fit, the lines of his muscles were visible under his soft, unblemished skin. His nipples were perked up and helplessly rigid and red, which made his mouth water once again. His tapered waist led to narrow hips and plump thighs, his cock was small, but fully hard, swollen and flushed pink, resting heavily against his belly.

“Stop staring, it’s embarrassing,” He blushed, but smiled, hands pulling Tony’s biceps, forcing him rest his weight on top of him, skin on skin, so hot he felt his chest burning. “Besides, it’s not fair if I can’t admire the view, too,” he whispered against his ear, fingers playing with the waistband of Tony’s jeans.

Tony devoured him in a kiss and rutted against him, trying to take some of the edge off, the whole thing was driving him insane, he worried he wouldn’t last a minute longer if he didn’t get things under control, it was embarrassing, he hadn’t felt like that in a long time.  

Peter wrapped one leg around his waist and pressed up against him, before throwing his head back, exposing his throat, and Tony buried his face in it, nose quickly filling with the smell of his cologne and a little sweat, the perfect combination to send him straight to heaven. Tony’s hands went down to cup Peter’s ass cheeks and he was not surprised to find they were deliciously round and soft, but firm. He kissed Peter one more time, before gently nudging him to turn around and lie with his stomach down.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, once again hypnotized by the sight of his slim body, from his gorgeous shoulders, down to his thin waist and glorious ass, so fucking round and juicy, like a ripe peach begging to be bitten. Peter gasped in surprise when Tony leaned down and did just that, bit his flesh softly, but it was enough to make the younger man jump.

“What are –“ he was cut off by his own moans, as Tony started licking and biting on his ass cheeks, starting almost at his lower back, making his way down to the fleshiest part of his ass, before moving inwards. “Tony,” he whimpered, sounding like he wanted to resist, but his body said differently, if the way his spine curved and his hips were pushed up from the bed were any indication.

Tony grabbed both of his cheeks, spreading them apart to expose his hole. Again, his mouth watered, the little ring of muscles looked insanely tight, but it was fluttering eagerly in anticipation. The way Peter whimpered “Tony” made it seem like he maybe wanted to say something, but his body didn’t leave any room for doubts. Still, he asked.

“This okay?” It was a little of a low blow that he was close enough that his hot, moist breath could probably be felt between his cheeks, but Peter buried his face in the pillow and, after just a couple of seconds, nodded. “I need to hear you, baby.” He whispered again, and the boy just turned his head a little to the side to whisper a breathless “yes.”

Tony squeezed his cheeks one more time, before moving his hands down a little to Peter’s thighs, to spread his legs further apart. Again, Peter buried his face in the pillow, the skin of his back turning red in a full-body blush, but his hips were pushed up, slightly off the bed. Tony smirked and started teasing him by licking his balls, sucking each if them into his mouth in turns, making the boy cry out and push his hips back into the bed, trying to rub his cock on the mattress.

Tony quickly held him in place as his tongue made its way up, finally reaching the quivering hole that had been begging for attention from the start. He circled the rim with his tongue, feeling its contractions, as Peter whined and writhed underneath him. He pushed his tongue against his entrance, trying to make his way in, but it was still too tight and he could barely get the tip in.

Once he felt Tony’s tongue trying to breach him, Peter started humping the bed, hips moving up against Tony’s face, then down, pressing his cock against the mattress. The older man smirked but let him keep fucking himself on his tongue, as his hands alternated between spreading his cheeks further apart and kneading his thighs, occasionally slapping his ass for good measure.

“To-Tony, I – I can’t, please, I gotta –“ He couldn’t finish his sentences properly, but Tony understood exactly what he wanted to say. He placed one last kiss on either of his cheeks then moved up the bed, reaching for his night stand. He saw Peter turn his head to the side, watching as his hand fished for a bottle of lube and a condom. He bit his lower lip and looked back at Tony. “Please.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, almost dropping everything to the floor. He left the items on the bed and started undoing his pants in a haste. As soon as he heard the sound of the zipper being undone, Peter turned around, lying on his back, resting against the pillows. Tony was a confident motherfucker, so he didn’t even blush as Peter watched him with hungry eyes, lazily stroking his cock as his eyes traveled all over the older man’s broad chest and toned abs.

Once he finally freed his cock, Peter sat up, reaching for it. Tony was kneeling between his legs, looking down at him as the boy wrapped his fingers around his shaft. The older man moaned, closing his eyes when he felt Peter start moving his hand up and down, slowly. He grabbed his shoulders and let his head fall back a little and enjoyed the feeling of Peter’s smooth palm sliding up and down his shaft. He gasped, though, when he felt the warm moisture of his mouth enveloping the tip of his already leaking cock.

“Pete – shit, fuck,” he jerked back sitting on his heels in front of the boy who looked back at him with a naughty smile. “Lie back, you fucking tease.” Peter complied immediately, feet planted on the bed, knees pointing up, legs spread wide.

The older man uncapped the lube, covered two fingers with a generous amount of it, then prompted Peter to place his heels on his shoulders and the boy obliged easily. Tony leaned forwards, almost folding him in half, knowing full well that he was flexible enough that it wasn’t uncomfortable. Exploring said flexibility further was on his secret list of fantasies, but it would have to wait.

He covered Peter’s lips with his in a hungry kiss at the same time as his middle finger forced its way into his entrance. Peter flinched for a second, but soon lost himself in the kiss, hands tangling in Tony’s hair, as he relaxed, making it easier for his finger to slide in smoothly. Once inside, he started moving it gently, curling it a little to loosen his muscles and Peter whimpered, pushing down against his hand as much as possible in the position he was in.

Tony moved his lips to Peter’s neck, teeth leaving faint, red marks on the way, as he tried to insert another finger in. He met a lot of resistance at first, and actually felt on his lips the way his shoulders tensed, so he made sure to be extra careful and gentle as he peppered kisses along his collarbones and lips, trying to distract him from the pain.

It worked, after a couple of minutes Peter’s body opened up beautifully for him, almost pulling him in as his fingers made their way inside. Tony stopped to let him adjust for a few seconds as he devoured his lips again in an eager kiss. Peter’s hands slid down his back and pulled him closer as his hips pressed back against Tony’s hand.

The older man started scissoring his fingers as he thrust his hips against Peter, the tip of his cock just lightly brushing his ass cheeks, but it was enough to drive him mad. Peter rocked back and forth with him, rolling his hips on his own account until, finally, his eyes grew wide and he threw his head back with a gasp.

“Oh – right there, Tony, right there, right there, please,” he begged incoherently and the older man quickened his pace, fucking harder into him, trying to keep hitting that spot again and again. “Fuck! Tony, please, just – please, fuck me.”

“Fuck, you can’t – just say things like – fuck,” He let his body weight rest on top of Peter, burying his face in his neck as he tried to get himself under control. The younger man’s legs slid down from his shoulders to the curve of his elbows as the boy chuckled. Tony pulled his fingers out and sat on his heels, reaching for the packet of condom. He opened it deftly and put it on in record time,  before spreading a generous amount of lube to his cock, but didn’t waste much time stroking it. He put one of Peter’s legs back on his shoulder, the other wrapped around his waist, and positioned himself, holding the tip of his cock against the boy’s quivering hole. “Okay?” He asked one last time, to which he boy whispered a quick yes, arms tight around Tony’s neck, as the older boy started breaching him.

It was obvious he was in pain at first, but Tony was patient and placed little kisses on his face as he waited for him to get used to the burn, before he kept going. Once he felt the boy relaxing around him, he took his lips in a deep kiss as he sank deeper and deeper into his warmth, his hole felt so fucking tight and inviting and when he was finally completely sheathed inside him, he let out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding, eyes rolling back in pleasure.

“You’re amazing,” he muttered, dazedly, and felt Peter’s lips stretch in a smile against his neck. He wondered if it was his secret smile or just an amused one, because Tony sounded high, and maybe he was, maybe he fucking was because Peter was like opium and Tony was already addicted. “Fucking amazing.”

Tony drew his hips back slowly, then thrust forward a little faster, making them both moan in pleasure. He grabbed Peter’s thighs and squeezed tight, imagining leaving marks on his pale skin, imagining that no one else would dare to touch him after. He set a quick pace, hips snapping firmly against his, their mouths and tongues lost in one another, chests touching, Peter’s legs around him, his arms around his neck, everything felt so fucking amazing, like in a dream, a fantasy.

“You feel so good,” Peter whispered in his ear, hips rocking to his rhythm, meeting him thrust for thrust, and it drove the older man a little mad as he fucked harder into him, so fucking hot, so tight, so –“Oh, shit!Tony, right there, please!” He cried, nails digging into his shoulders to the point it hurt, but he didn’t stop, he went wild, aiming at that same sweet spot, hitting it over and over again, as Peter moaned and writhed underneath him, babbling things Tony couldn’t quite understand.

He grabbed Peter’s cock, which was rock-hard and bobbing between their stomachs, and stroked in sync with his thrusts and, without any warning, Peter cried his name, eyes squeezed shut, as he came, spilling his come all over their chests and stomachs, the pressure of his hole clenching down on him and the sight of Peter lost in his own pleasure sent Tony over the edge. He bit Peter’s shoulder to avoid screaming like a madman as he emptied himself inside him, hips never losing rhythm until they were both completely spent.

He let himself rest against Peter for just a few seconds before rolling off of him to take off the condom, which he tied and threw in the bin by his bed. He quickly turned back to Peter and pulled him to his chest, and the boy nestled against him and buried his face in his neck, taking a deep, calming breath.

Tony wanted to say something. Like “I love you”, but maybe less intense. Maybe “we should do this again”. Maybe “do you wanna go out sometime?”. Anything to ensure that that wasn’t a one-time thing, a one-night stand. He knew it wasn’t Peter’s style, but he had to make sure, he needed to know for sure that it meant something.

The prolonged silence made it possible for them to hear a phone vibrating somewhere on the floor. They both raised their heads to look and Tony reached down to grab Peter’s pants when he saw its pocket shining. Peter thanked him and took the phone, eyes going a little wide when looked at the screen just as it went silent.  

“Fuck, it’s Harry, and he’s called a hundred times already, I gotta take this.” He looked flustered and a little nervous as he prepared to jump out of bed.

“Please, don’t.” Tony sat up and grabbed Peter’s arm before he could leave and the younger man frowned, a little confused and apparently a little annoyed, which made the older man feel embarrassed.

“What? Why?” He demanded, and Tony bit his lower lip, trying to find a way to explain himself without sounding clingy or needy.

“Because – I mean, I know you just got out of a bad relationship and maybe you want to meet other people and have different experiences and stuff, and it’s probably not a good idea to jump in a relationship with someone else right not, which is fine, I mean – I guess what I’m saying is... If you want to keep seeing him, I understand, just... keep in mind that I really wanna be with you and I think we’d be great together, so I hope you’ll pick me in the end.” He probably didn’t make any sense to the other boy, he wanted to say “Leave that jerk and give me a chance” but somehow ended up encouraging Peter to keep seeing someone else and now he felt stupid.

“Wh – Tony, I – you think I’m two-timing you and Harry?” He shook his head confusedly, eyes blinking rapidly as if he was having a hard time understanding something so absurd.

“Not two-timing, just – you’re seeing him, right?” He felt stupid when Peter just stared at him for a few seconds before he burst out laughing, to the point that he laid back down on the bed, clutching his belly. “What? So you don’t – you two aren’t –“ Tony was still sitting on the bed, looking down at a laughing Peter drying tears from the corner of his eyes.  

“Tony, Harry is just a friend – a very overprotective friend who thinks you’re a jerk for hurting my feelings when we were younger, by the way – but that’s it. He’s straight, he’s got a girlfriend back in New York. I thought you knew this, it’s all over his Instagram.” He sat back up by his side, shoulder touching his, and Tony felt unbelievably dumb and so fucking relieved he wanted to cry. He wasn’t even embarrassed that he’d made a fool of himself just a few minutes ago. He sighed deeply, closing his eyes to thank whatever deity was out there. When he opened them again, Peter wasn’t laughing anymore, he was looking curiously at him, worrying his bottom lip. “So… What did you mean by, you know, wanting to be with me and stuff?” He mumbled the last part, looking down at his naked lap.

Tony felt weirdly vulnerable and exposed in that state of undress, so he reached for a sheet and covered them both with it. Peter smiled gratefully at him. He took a minute to organize his thoughts, he considered trying to play it down a little, but at the same time, he really needed to get that out of his chest. So he took a deep breath.

“The reason why I stopped talking to you back then wasn’t because I was feeling like a third wheel. I was jealous, because,” he paused, glancing sideways at Peter who looked back at him with huge eyes. He bit his lower lip and shrugged. “I was in love with you.”

“You – but you – why didn’t you –“ Peter looked and sounded pretty confused, he shut his eyes and shook his head as if it could get his thoughts in order.

“I don’t know, I was stupid,” Tony answered anyway, because he knew what he wanted to ask. Peter was silent after that, the older man kept looking at him, expecting some kind of reaction, but he just looked back at him, pursing his lips. Calculating.

“Did you, uh – are you over it? Like, do you –” He tried speaking again, but he seemed to have lost the ability to string sentences together, so Tony smiled softly and put him out of his misery.

“I love you, Pete. This hasn’t changed.” It was amazingly easy to say those words, words he’d been using in his mind for so long, ever since they were teens. Anytime he said “take care”, “call me”, “I missed you”, “see you soon”, he actually meant “I love you”. So it fell from his lips like the easiest words in the English lexicon. It felt freeing. “But I understand you’re not there yet, so don’t feel pressured to –“

“Are you crazy? I’ve been in love with you since ninth grade,” Peter’s eyes were wet when he looked into Tony’s, one hand coming to rest on the older man’s cheek. “I thought it was hopeless, I thought you’d never love me back.” He frowned and tried to pull his hand away, but Tony held it against his face, heart breaking. He never meant for Peter to feel like he could never love him back, he was just a stupid kid. “I thought I could forget you if I replaced you with someone else. I guess it worked for a while, until you talked to me at Clint’s party and I just – it reminded me how just talking to you makes me weak in the knees.” He smiled shyly and it was Tony’s turn to cup his face in his hands.

“I’m so sorry, Pete.” The younger man smiled and shook his head fondly.

“I love you, too, dummy,” Tony smiled brightly, his heart felt so fucking full and complete. It was like a missing piece fell right into place. He kissed Peter’s own smile right off his lips, forcing him to lie down, bodies entangled from head to toe. Things were heating up again quickly, when they were interrupted by Peter’s phone vibrating again.

“Oh my God, Harry is gonna kill me, hold on.” He grabbed the phone from the bed and Tony watched, amused and relieved. So fucking relieved. And happy. And whole. “Hey – okay, calm down, I’m fine, I – yeah, I’ll tell you if you let me speak. I’m at Tony’s. Yeah, that Tony. No, it’s fine, we’ve talked and – what? Harry, no! This is ridiculous, I’m an adult, you’re over – okay, fine! Hold on,” He turned to Tony with a frown, looking embarrassed and shy. Tony raised a brow. “Uhm, I’m really sorry about this, but he wants to talk to you, could you –? If he’s too much, just tell him to fuck off, he can be a little overbearing.”

“It’s ok, gimme.” Tony was actually grateful Peter had a friend like Harry – well, now that he knew they were just friends. Peter needed that, he needed someone to be there for him and to put Tony in his place if he was ever out of line. He deserved someone looking out for him, something Tony wasn’t capable of doing when Peter was with Beck. “Hello?”

“Listen here, punk, I know your type, I know how you operate, and let me just tell you, it ain’t gonna fly with me, do you hear me? I will not allow you to hurt Peter again, I want you to know that I’m fucking watching you and if you so much as touch a hair on his head I’m gonna make your life a living hell, I fucking –“

Tony wasn’t even mad, he really wasn’t. He was so happy he wanted to cry. When he looked at Peter, he looked mortified, but still, his lips were spread in a smile. That beautiful, secret smile of his, the one Tony missed so damned much for too fucking long.

He’d never have to miss it again.

“Nobody knows it, 

But you’ve got a secret smile

And you use it only for me.”

(Semisonic – Secret Smile)

#starker #college au #CssPrompts

[watarigarasu]

Sweet Nothings

Pairing: Kíli x Reader

Word count: 3,898

Warnings: None

Author’s note: None

Synopsis: Kíli is not aware of the impact his words have upon you.

„Is she avoiding me?” Kíli inquired, his piercing gaze glued to your back when you were riding a horse barely few steps ahead, leaving the Durin brothers at the very end of The Company. Not that any of them were complaining, on the contrary, it was a perfect opportunity to finally share a word or two about the current situation, which—surprisingly or not—seemed to be way more serious than the wargs chasing after you all. “I mean it, she did not spare me a single glance since we escaped the Goblin Town!”

“I think you may be a little bit overacting,” Fíli stated matter-of-factly. “Tell me, when was the last time you had a conversation with Bifur, hm?”

“And why would I have a conversation with him?” he frowned in confusion.

“To prove my point that sometimes you chat with one person, then another and there is nothing odd about it. It does not mean that she is avoiding you, she is simply… occupied.”

Kíli thought for a while about his brother’s words, valuing them as most likely wiser but not convincing in the slightest. It has been two whole, long days since you managed to escape the Goblin Town and so, two whole, long days since he had a chance to hear your voice calling his name or to see you laugh at something he said. The bitter sensation was growing in his mind, making him wonder whether you were bored by him already or maybe he unintentionally did something to offend you… He was not perfect, often acting before thinking but he would never make anything to hurt your feelings and especially not to alienate you.

“Or maybe…” Kíli lowered his voice to the conspirational whisper. “She thinks I am too old for her.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Seriously!” he hissed and slowed his pony down a little bit to give even more space between them and The Company heading further east. “When I think about it now, this might be the reason. Before reaching Rivendell we were chatting and somehow it slipped me that I am seventy seven. Seventy seven, Fíli! How old do you think she is?! Humans age different so maybe… five? The gap would be devastating, no wonder she does not want to talk to me anymore!”

Fíli barely could contain the amused smile, hearing more and more ridiculous explanations flowing from his brother’s mouth.

“I can assure you that this is not the issue. And I highly doubt that she is five.”

At that point, Kíli was ready to tear his hair out. He has been observing you for some time, desperately trying to find out what could be the reason for your cold behaviour toward him but no matter for how long he was deducing, there was no conclusion. You were acting as normal as always with everyone else beside him and this fact hurt him much more than he wanted to admit.

“But,” Fíli continued, noticing Kíli’s discouragement. “I can try doing a little reconnaissance if you want.”

His eyes immediately shone with new excitement and the happy expression did not fade from his face for the rest of the day, until the camp had to be settled again. Many hours later, when the sky became completely dark and the only source of light was a campfire, Kíli sat at the opposite side of you, pretending to be focused on his bowl of soup but realized that he has completely lost the appetite.

You were so close and so far away at the same time.

Naturally, his first idea was to simply approach you and ask about the change in your behaviour on the same day he realized it, but he found himself unable to speak to you. You were busy packing your stuff and he stood there, like a total oaf, staring at you completely silently, when no words escaped his lips and none seemed to be appropriate for the situation. Kíli has never felt as helpless as then, the courage leaving him when he was too afraid of accidentally pushing you further away.

He cared, he cared so much that it made him back away. After all, watching you happily spend time with the others was a better option than seeing you upset at him.

Kíli sighed deeply and took a small sip of the dinner, forcing himself to eat, knowing that he will need energy tomorrow morning. For now, he was hoping for Fíli to find a reason, his calm and collected attitude could provide more informations that if he approached you, acting so strange and very unlike him. Perhaps that was the reason—his behaviour tiring you, although at the beginning of the quest you were not giving him signs as such.

On the contrary, you seemed to be very pleased with his company during your first night as a guard.

“I just want to make sure that you won’t mess something up,” he teased you then, sitting next to you on the mossy ground, back resting against a giant, fallen tree trunk.

“It is more likely that I will mess something up if you will keep distracting me with your talking, Kíli,” you stated, peeking at him and the sword he was holding on the knees, preparing to sharpen it before the next day of march.

“Fair point,” he winked. “Consider it as a training then. How well can you be aware of your surroundings with such a great distraction?”

There was something in the depth of his voice, how low it was, how slightly hoarse after the long day, which made your heart melt with warmth and spill all over your body like a golden honey, the tingly, lovely sensation bringing smile to your lips. His eyes were so dark and mesmerizing you could stare at them for hours and still not get bored, the emotions visible in them like in an open book. It never failed to amaze you how in one moment he could look at you with such a gentle, caring manner and in the next one, if the enemies were approaching, there was a wild rage within them, burning passion and unstoppable bravery.

You thought that he was not afraid of anything, not even for a moment.

“Is this how low you think of me?” you gasped and placed a hand over your heart in a theatrical manner. “I would never get distracted, not when the whole Company is counting one me.”

“You take this so seriously.”

“And you do not? I mean,” you paused for a while, recollecting your thoughts. “We are a team and we need to protect each other. If I can help by staying awake and looking for intruders then I will do my best then.”

“Just like you did your best when Balin asked you to protect the campfire from the rain when everyone was packing and you stood over the ember with your coat spread open like some kind of winged animal?” he chuckled and even though you did not consider it as embarrassing, the way he laughed at the memory itched your heart a little bit.

“If you are going to mock me for doing what others asked me to, then–“

“I am not mocking you,” he interrupted, now the tone of his voice much more serious. “I did not mean that. I actually think it was very sweet of you, even though you were completely soaked afterwards and the fire went off anyway.”

“How is that sweet in any way then?”

“In a way, my dear, that you are hardworking and caring.”

It was nice, hearing the compliment from him, especially since you were not expecting it barely few moments ago.

“Obviously,” Kíli continued, now looking back at his weapon and sharpening the edge. “I could go on and on. This is only the tiny peak of your virtues and there is still much more to discover.”

“I think you are exaggerating,” you added, wondering how did he manage to say things like that so naturally, with so much ease, seemingly completely unaware of how much they affected you.

“No way! I intend to name more, if not all of them. Then you will see that I was right and as a prize I will want you to admit that out loud. Moreover, in front of everyone.”

“In your dreams, Kíli!”

“Oh, but you will! You will say that Kíli, the Son of Durin was right all the way and you, my lass, have never been so wrong in your whole life.”

It was hard to not laugh at his words, especially considering the hilarious tone of the voice he used to recite the statement. You almost did not notice when half of the night passed by then, the peaceful forest allowing the whole Company to rest before the dawn.

Kíli cherished this memory as promising. He was coming back to it many times before falling asleep, recalling your smile and words, trying to remember as much as possible from it. He did not lie when he made the vow of naming all your advantages and so, the next day he surprised with yet another detail about your personality, you did not previously pay attention to.

“And what do we have there?” Kíli mused as he approached you, while you were trying to sew up the hole in your breeches left by a branch during the warg’s chase. “If that is not our beloved, very talented and no less skilled friend?”

You peeked at him, confused.

“At that point you are just making it up.”

“How could I.” He showed you his bright teeth in a charming smile.

“I am just sewing up my trousers, everyone can do that,” you pointed out, which made Kíli gasp loudly.

“But can they do it with such a precision? Could they ever look so adorable with that focused face? And do they have that tiny, sweet little wrinkle at the bridge of the nose? I highly doubt that!”

You muttered something about him being ridiculous and incomprehensible, and came back to your work, not wanting him to notice how the amount of compliments—although, most likely, said as a joke—was embarrassing you.

The scenario repeated few more times, each one of them Kíli surprising you with the amount of knowledge and wide vocabulary. You were scolding yourself for allowing the first impression of him to take over your judgment because the more you knew him, the more interesting he was, day after day proving you that in reality, there was still a lot to learn about him.

The compliments he was giving to you were fancy and often making you laugh. Before his little mission to apparently embarrass you with calling out loud every single thing you did right, you doubted that anyone paid attention to the way you were tying shoelaces or styling your hair. And yet, there he was, attentive and always ready to tell you how good you looked, how smart you were, how clever you acted or how your presence brightened up the whole surroundings.

And it was sweet, Kíli’s charm obviously reaching your heart and causing the butterflies to fly in your stomach whenever you spotted him nearby. Soon, you found yourself waiting with an anticipation for the next day just to see him again, to hear him tell some funny story from Ered Luin, to watch him practice shooting with the bow. His adorable, cheerful face occupied most of your thoughts, even in the times where it surely should not—eventually resulting in you falling to the shallow but cold stream after stepping on a particularly slippery stone and Kíli, naturally, shouting after you:

“Hold on, my damsel in distress, your savior is here!”

“Who do you call a damsel in distress?” you frowned while standing up, the water reaching a little above your ankles, but before you could go out of the stream, Kíli was already next to you, effortlessly picking you up as if you weighted nothing more than a feather and throwing you over his shoulder. “What are you–?!”

“I am assisting my lady not-in-distress in crossing the river, what else?”

“Put me down right now, immediately,” you demanded, noticing the curious stares from the rest of The Company who must have noticed your absence. “Kíli, please.”

But he did not listen, instead walking with you out of the small river and only then letting you go on the dry ground. Adjusting your clothes, you murmured a simple: “Thank you”, still rather awestruck. You were familiar with the differences between Men and Dwarves and yet, witnessing him in action was always impressive.

“I am much stronger than I look, I know,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you. “I also have many other ace’s up my sleeves, you will see.”

His boldness was both intimidating and alluring and you did not want to lie to yourself, pretending that you did not like it. Perhaps it would be better to face him about this, to talk about yours and his feelings and then decide what to do next. The rest of The Company was not blind, they must have seen what was going on between you two and they deserved an explanation, too.

Your plans changed drastically when you found out the harsh truth during an innocent coincidence, which allowed you to see his real intentions—and the conclusion broke your heart.

Rivendell was like a dream, a town in clouds, completely separated from the dangers of the outside world and it was hard to tell whether you were staying there for few hours, days or even years. Overwhelming peace and harmony blinded your senses and muted the natural instincts which were telling you that soon it was the time to move forward. Until then, however, not you, nor the rest of The Company could deny an invitation for dinner with music and chatting.

Sitting at the opposite side of the table, you peeked at Kíli from time to time, in between admiring the unusual landscape. The Elves, although visibly not understanding Dwarves’ manners, were kind and gentle, bringing new plates and playing on the instruments to make your stay as pleasant as possible. Golden sun spilled over the marble floor and in its light you noticed how Kíli’s hair, now neatly washed and pinned with a bead, were having some burning red and deep chocolate reflections. What caught your attention the most, however, were his eyes and the soft, loving gaze, which happened to not linger on you for more than a second.

Instead, you noticed the meaningful looks and discreet smiles sent to the Elves.

Deciding to focus on your meal, you started to feverishly wonder, when did you make a mistake and how could you not notice the simple fact that it was not Kíli’s attraction toward you causing him to act this way, but rather his personality and natural charisma. He was so open, easily astonished by anything new, eager to try everything and never hesitating to make a first step. It was in his nature to charm, to talk, to flirt, to love and to live.

You were not a difference in his life, but an opportunity.

Despite what you hoped for, the first and last night in Rivendell was full of sorrow and unanswered questions.

“May I join?” Fíli’s voice brought you back to present, to the camp in the woods, the fire in front of you and the bowl full of still untouched soup.

“Sure.” You moved aside to give him more space to sit on the fallen tree trunk, which was now used as a bench.

“I thought you seem troubled,” he continued. “Can I help you somehow?”

If his attentiveness surprised you, you did not let it show.

“I am just tired,” you lied. “It has been a long day.”

“Indeed…” He accepted your excuse and pointed at the bowl. “You do not have to eat that if you do not want to, you know? Nobody will get angry.”

Only then you remembered about your dinner and looked at it as if the bowl has just magically appeared in your hands.

“You may be right,” you nodded. “I am not hungry.”

“Well then, I can only hope that this is not some illness spreading because Kíli seems to lost his appetite, too.”

Immediately you peeked at the other side of the campfire and spotted him sitting next to Bombur, blank gaze glued to the burning wood. Apparently, he was no less troubled than you were.

“I hope so, too,” you muttered and eventually decided to try a first spoon.

If you want something done, do it yourself—or so Kíli repeated to himself while marching angrily toward the front of The Company, where you were walking side by side with Ori. Fíli’s intervention was helpful, obviously, but it still led him nowhere, not knowing what exactly caused you avoid him all of a sudden. His ominous words were not making it easier either.

“She is worried.”

Kíli blinked few times, hoping for the further explanation which did not come.

“About what…?”

“Something regarding you, I guess.” Fíli shrugged. “I do not know the details.”

“That much I know, brother, I was hoping for the details precisely! How can I do anything about it when I have no idea what is going on?” Kíli kicked the small rock which was laying on his way on the road. “I would even apologize but I do not know what for, so that would never work.”

His brother’s look was very meaningful, just like the smile on his lips.

“You like her.”

“Of course I do, everyone likes her.”

“No, no. You like her. More than the others.”

Kíli glared at him suspiciously.

“Whatever you are implying…”

“You know very well what I am implying.”

“… It won’t work because she currently hates me.”

“She does not hate you,” Fíli sighed. “Listen, just try talking to her. I can assure you that if you talk it thoroughly, everything will be fine.”

Kíli was not sure about it but he did not have many other options. Eventually, he decided to approach you and confront about the whole situation, hoping that you won’t try to escape this time. When he finally fell into step with you, he called your name, the look of determination on his face.

“Can we talk for a moment?” he asked and noticed how for a single second your eyes wandered around in an attempt to find yet another excuse—but found none.

“Sure…” you nodded then and slowed down the pace so you could stay alone with him at the end of the group. “What do you want to talk about?”

“About us.”

“Us?” you snorted.

“Yes.” Kíli gently touched your arm and stopped you mid-tracks, making you face him. “What happened? I thought we were doing just fine, why the sudden change?”

It was painful to look at those dark eyes of his, full of remorse and confusion. There was no doubt that he genuinely did not see his own mistake and you could not decide whether it angered or upset you more. Either way, he deserved an explanation.

“We were doing perfectly fine,” you admitted slowly. “Bu the point is… Oh, Kíli, you cannot say all those words and expect me to not fall in love with you.”

Your confession made him speechless. He was staring at you as if he saw you for the first time—or as if you were some kind of goddess allowing only him to experience your presence. He opened his mouth, attempting to answer you but could not find the right words and so he closed them, reminding you of a fish out of water.

Crossing the arms, you patiently waited for his answer, feeling the thrill of fear over what you were going to hear. That your emotions were ridiculous? That you should not take the innocent game that seriously?

“I–Are you in love with me?” Kíli simply wondered and when the word ‘love’ escaped his mouth, he smiled.

Truly, honestly, hopefully.

“Of course I am,” you sighed deeply. “But unfortunately, it was a little bit too late when I realized that you are not.”

Then it struck him. The memory of the evening spent in Rivendell, how cheerful you were while approaching this place and how your attitude drastically changed over the dinner. The funny situation when he accidentally mistook an Elf with She-Elf still echoing in his mind but not as vivid and clear as the pained look on your face back then. There was a sadness behind your smile and he was too excited to notice it.

Your name danced on his tongue when he whispered it and approached you, cupping both of your hands in his and licking his lips before giving you an answer.

“You are mistaken,” he started. “I am in love with you and Mahal knows that I was since I first laid my eyes upon you. Everything I said about you was no less that truth itself and I really do admire you in everything you do. Even in the way you gracelessly fell into that river.”

Light peeking from between the branches landed on the side of his face, giving his eyes more depth and colour, and he squeezed your hands tighter after noticing how the corners of your lips were trembling, the happiness after hearing his confession not possible to hide anymore.

“And regarding to what happened in Rivendell,” Kíli continued. “I was just being a fool and you should know that sometimes I tend to be one. A really big, Dwarven oaf. It was certainly one of those moments but it would never change the way I feel about you, only you. You are everything to me and I love you just the way you are. I love your smile and your laugh, the stories you are telling, how helpful and dedicated you are and how huge your heart is! I love that you decided to join us on this adventure because I love seeing you everyday, saying ‘good morning’ and ‘goodnight’ to you. And I love your flaws, too, the ones I did not mention before. You are aware that I am not free of them either, but that is exactly what makes us us and I would never change anything in you because in my eyes you are perfect just the way you are, with everything you carry in your soul. Only that way the picture is complete.”

Sunlight swirled in the corners of your teary eyes, Kíli’s hand never letting go of yours and The Company far ahead of you two. Still, there was no rush to chase after them, not when you have just realized that all you have ever wanted was right in front of you.

Kíli took a step closer and in an answer you slowly leaned forward, closing your eyes, until your forehead rested against his and the tips of your noses barely brushed against each other. It was a perfect afternoon, the one worth remembering, as you stood there in the middle on the forest bathed in the bright, golden sunlight, and there was nothing which could disturb the peace of your connected hearts.

#kili x reader #kili #kili imagine #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction

[idabbleincrazy]

Lineage ~ A Missing Scenes Ficlet

Fandom: Angel (Buffyverse)

Rating: T

Pairing: Spangel

Characters: Spike, Angel, Mentioned: Wes, Fred, Dru, Angelus, William, Anne Pratt

Word Count: 1425

Warnings: Angst with a hopeful ending, Mutual pining (kinda), Introspection, Sire/Childe dynamics, Vampire Dynamics/Vampire Family Dynamics, Parental Issues All Around, Missing Scene Fic, 5x07: Lineage, past Spangelus

Summary: Spike muses on his failed attempt at comforting Wes, and finds some comfort of his own from Angel.

A/N: Minor warning of Spike reflecting on his mother's demon and the things she said before he staked her, but not detailed. I really had to think long and hard on what scene i wanted to expand on for this one given that it was a Wesley-based episode with only slightly more interaction between Spike and Angel than the last. Think I did pretty good at bridging the gap to help ease the way into the happenings of Destiny.

Feedback is golden!!!!!

Spike watched Wesley beat a dejected path back to his office, a pang of sympathy aching in his silent chest for the ex-Watcher. His wording may have been off-putting, but he did understand quite well how Wes would have felt for those scant few seconds when he thought he’d killed his father. After all, unlike most vampires, he hadn’t wanted to kill his mother. He’d tried to save her, and had been gut-wrenched when the demon in her turned out to be so wretchedly vile. He had only wanted to give her her health back, show her the kindness a loving mother deserved, only for it all to be thrown back in his face, for the truth of his mother’s long-hidden hatred of him to be revealed once the soul no longer kept her from speaking it. 

Was this why the majority of other vampires killed their parents, rather than share the gift their Sires bestowed upon them? Did their lack of a soul finally pull the wool away from their eyes, finally allowing them to see how their fathers had tried to mold them in their image with no thought to what they might want, how their mothers would clutch them to their breast but only to keep them under their thumb, the only way to feel as though they had some semblance of control over anything in their pre-planned lives? Had they finally seen the truth that their parents only loved them so long as they remained in line, kept their heads down and did as told? Less and less fledges bothered to seek out their parents for their first kill these days, but Spike had put it down to the fact that Sires barely bothered to stick around long enough to see them fight their way from the dirt, let alone order them to kill off their family. 

He had once figured it was a rite of passage, from one life to the next; scratch out your old family to begin again with your new. Because that’s what your Sire was, along with anyone else of the shared bloodline, family. Any other Childer they still kept with them and their own Sires, if they had stuck around, were family. Near pack-like in their devotion, and with similar pecking orders, each Clan had a duty to their blood, and so, he had always figured each fledge had been told to rid themselves of any mortal ties as a show of dedication to their new life, an act of fealty. Maybe he’d been wrong, maybe he was just one of the few who had been fooled into thinking they had actually been loved by their parent. Drusilla had never thought to order him to kill his mother, had never explained the deeper meaning of it. And by the time he had met Angelus, the mishap had already fled his mind, tucked away as just another tragic loss, and he never thought to ask.

Spike sighed, shaking himself from his thoughts. Any more brooding, and he’d start turning into Angel. Lord knew he did enough of that for the both of them. 

Spike decided it was worth a check-in with his Grandsire; knowing him, he had probably done the same thing he had in an awkward attempt to comfort Wesley, calling forth the remembrance of killing his own father once he had risen from the grave. At least the pillock was talking to him again, instead of turning him away with a wordless look or grunt, or ignoring his presence all-together. He still couldn’t quite figure out the whole cold-shoulder stint, and was anxious to keep it from happening again. He was after all, family. The only one left who he could still turn to. Family had always meant too much to William for his own good, and Spike was just the same, no matter the years between the two lives. Angelus had treated him like family, much as any vampire could, and that bond still smouldered there, regardless of all the pain and anger of their past. Too deep to smother even with a pair of souls between them. Odd, that even as a not-quite-a-ghost, those feelings lingered, bolstered even, by this new level of loneliness that came with his intangibility. 

He floated through the closed door of Angel’s office, and as expected, found him staring out the window, lost in thought. 

“Can feel you brooding from all the way out in the lobby, mate. Take it you tried to comfort Percy too, eh?”

“Yeah,” Angel spoke softly, not turning from the view as Spike sidled up alongside him. “Don’t think it worked very well. Killing your father in a hatred-fueled bloodlust isn’t exactly the same as thinking you killed your father to protect someone you care about.”

“Guess not. Don’t worry, Peaches. You’re not the only one with egg on ‘is face. Told him ‘bout me mum. There’s a bit of info he probably never got from all those books at the Academy.”

Angel huffed a quiet laugh, turning to look over at Spike. There was an odd sadness in his eyes as he regarded his insubstantial Childe. Spike felt almost as though he were standing in another ghost’s cold-spot as his Grandsire considered him, a shiver running down his spine. 

“You always were more human than demon, weren’t you William?” Angel ignored the look Spike gave him at the use of his old name. “You tried to save your mother, instead. I’m sorry that didn’t work out for you the way you had hoped.”

“Nah, worked out for the better, in the end, didn’t it? Angelus woulda had a field day takin’ the mickey out of me for it, straight away. A fledge with mummy issues. Do wish the demon in her hadn’t shown itself to be quite so crass though. Took a while to shake that off.”

Angel frowned, knowing all too well what Angelus would’ve done. How he would have tormented the boy to no end, used his mother to bring him to heel, only to stake her right in front of him. He found himself wishing yet again that he could reach out and actually touch Spike, the demon in him wanting to provide some paltry comfort to the melancholy Childe beside him. 

“There’s a reason why fledges aren’t meant to Sire anyone. Whelps, either. Had Dru been thinking clearly, she would have thought to forbid it. The turn, it doesn’t work out right if the Sire isn’t at least close to master status. I’ve heard tales of it going even worse than your attempt. What your mother became, wasn’t her. A demon that unfit would have taken even the purest love and twisted it.” 

Spike was grateful he couldn’t cry in this ghostly form, his eyes stinging with the unshed tears. He focused his thoughts and reached out to lay his hand over Angel’s where it rested against the back of the couch, his lips curling up into a sad smile. 

“Thanks, Grandda. Not sure how much I really believe that, but thanks all the same. Reckon it provided me more comfort than either of us gave Head Boy.” Angel huffed again and looked down at their hands. Spike gave his fingers a squeeze, his soul lifting a bit as he saw Angel register the feeling with a flutter of his eyelids. “Saw Brain Girl headed over to ‘is office, maybe she’ll do a better job at it than us, yeah?”

“Hmm, hopefully. Fred’s usually pretty good with that stuff.”

Spike pulled his hand away and made to leave, not wanting to wear out his welcome so soon as he’d regained it. 

“Guess I’ll be off then, let you get back to your musin’.”

“Spike.” Spike paused mid-turn, his head tilted in confusion. Angel rolled his eyes to diffuse his own nerves. He spent weeks keeping his Childe at a distance and figured they could both do with a bit more of each other’s company; he knew how much the boy hated being alone so much. “You can stay, really. I can brood just as easily with you here.”

Spike scoffed and returned to his spot, this time his hand merely resting on the couch next to Angel’s, unwilling to push his luck. He may not quite be walking on eggshells with his Grandsire, but he could feel how fragile their companionship still was. He could make do with the silence for now if it meant they were taking a step closer to what they were before.

“Ta.”

~~~~~

@thewhiterabbit42​ @prose-for-hire​  

#angel: ts fanfic #buffyverse fanfic #spike/angel #spike #angel #missing scene fic #pining

[black-streak]

Waiting for the Worms - Goodbye Blue Sky

Part 10

Extra long, late Christmas gift. Warnings are always in effect. I'll leave it at that.

CLOSED list of friendly people: @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @miraculousdisapointment @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

The moment the door creaked open, Marinette woke up, shifting towards the source upon recognizing its pattern. Damian stopped misstep as their eyes met, then proceeded to edge closer until he could sit upon the edge. They sat silently watching one another, Marinette's tired mind not fully functioning in her sleepy state now that the intruder was blatantly not a threat to keep track of. 

The boy faced away from her, muscles tense and trembling ever so slightly. He twitched as though he wanted to turn around but aborted the attempt before it could even begin. His fists twisted up in the sheets at his side and he seemed to brace himself for something. Haze lifting a touch, she realizes she needs to bridge the gap herself this time. Normally he came to her in his own time, but just showing up in her room in the middle of the night told her how much he was already meeting her halfway; even if he needed something from her and not the other way round.

Reaching out, shuffling the sheets in warning, she rested a calloused hand on his wrist. His attention snapped over to her, head whipping over his shoulder and eyes locking once more. Only this time, he stayed close enough for her to see the shine to his eyes, fear hiddened in the depths. 

"Damian?"

He huffed a breath through his nose, staying silent otherwise, not moving closer nor creating distance between them. Deciding he probably wouldn't speak on the issue in this mental state, she tugged softly at his wrist, shifting to the other side of the bed and lifting the bedding on the now opened side, keeping her grip on his wrist gentle enough to ensure he knew he could escape at a moment's notice with no resistance.

"Come here, little one. Sleep."

His face pinched up as though to protest only to soften into a confused little pout, "No questions?"

"None."

He eased up, padding further onto the bed and settling beside her, relaxing as time passes. Marinette maintained a foot and a half of distance between them, refusing to crowd the boy or make him uncomfortable after he came to her. She knew he craved attention and affection, likely touch starved throughout the last seven years, but knew Damian needed to decide for himself if that was something he wanted from her. Despite calling her family, Marinette knew she would need to tread carefully to not break that fragile trust, letting him decide if he wanted her as an older sibling, parental figure, or distant cousin. So instead of cuddling the distressed boy as her instincts screamed for, she turned away and listened until his breathing settled before slipping back to sleep herself.

...

Their plans started to take a new depth, Talia starting to speak more in places and times instead of abstracts, referring to several upcoming missions or events in which opportunities might present themselves and how to take full advantage and slip away.

She stressed the importance of not informing her when they decide to leave and where they'll end up. 

The decisions laid out before her, Marinette mapped out every instance and possible outcome, taking the easiest routes and simplest plans and immediately scrapping them. Too easy to track. She also scraped any idea that seemed overly complex. Overactive imaginations such as Ras' would immediately think of the most intricate and convoluted plans and follow their leads. The distraction or escape itself mattered less than the journey afterwards, when the league would attempt to hunt them down to reclaim their heir. She wanted a middle ground. Something complex enough to throw them off of any path, but easy enough to not hit their radar. 

The thought hit her in the middle of the night, Damian snug on the other half, having entered some time ago. Looking down at the child, she knew where they would go and how. 

The next day, she waited for Talia in her rooms. When the woman entered, she waited until the door locked to speak.

"I've figured it out."

"Jason, what did I-"

"I'm not here to tell you any details. I'm just informing you that our departure is prepared for. And to say goodbye. You can't know when we'll disappear, meaning the loss of your son will blindside you as well. So I'm telling you now. His ties are broken, he won't come back, he will never feel the need to return. I'll keep him safe though. I'll remember your love and sacrifice. It's going to be okay Talia. You're doing what's best for him."

"I know," she gave a small smile, broken in the corner. With that, Marinette left her alone, knowing there was nothing left for them to say. The woman knew how grateful she was for this second chance at life. For the training and education. The trust and care. The connection to the world through her child.

The next morning she found a bag hidden in her rooms, filled with supplies and multiple currencies of cash, along with access keys to multiple unattached drop boxes across the world. Child support, she thought to herself with a huff of laughter.

…

The two had just returned from a particularly terrible mission, where Damian had made his second kill and she had taken some gruelling measures to protect the kid and prevent his needing to step in further.

When Damian entered her room that night, it seemed less for his own comfort and more for hers. As though he sensed how distraught his killing made her. He was too young and raised too harshly to understand why, but knew that it upset her and wished to soothe the gloom looming over them. If she had to guess, that probably contributed to why he avoided the act when out on the field. She took matters into her own hands, killed when the situation called for it and sometimes when the madness echoed a touch too loud, but she couldn't stand the thought of the little one becoming a killer.

Huddling amongst the sheets and feeling his tiny hand press between her shoulder blades, she decided the time to inform Damian had come at last.

"If I said we could escape this. The trainers who hurt and demean you, the woman who disowned you, the man who cares only about an heir and not the boy behind the title, would you want that?"

His breathing pattern threw itself off just a touch, a sign of his surprise, "What do you mean?"

"The League. Talia, Ras, everything. Would you want to escape. See the outside world, decide for yourself who you ought to be, instead of just becoming what they want. Stop being used."

"That's not an option though," he countered, tone cautious.

"Why not?"

"Where would I go? How? Nobody escapes."

"We could. I've spent enough time as Talia's pet to know how to evade anyone here. Watched and listened in to enough to know how Ras thinks. And you? You grew up here, you must have this place memorized like the back of your hand. Know the patterns and inner workings of its people. We could escape, together."

He stayed silent, hand wrapping into the back of her shirt subconsciously where it lay.

"And once we're out?"

"I grew up in the outside world, I know where to go, how to survive."

"You're saying I'd have to trust you with my life."

"I'd be trusting you as well. I'm trusting you now to even ask this," she mentioned, drawing attention to how risky bring up an escape plan to the heir of the Demon's Head truly was. Showing her trust in him to ease the fear of putting his life in her hands.

"And if we were to escape successfully, I'd be free then? To make my own decisions like you said?"

"With some moderate supervision," her voice betrayed her amusement at his prodding, "I'm not going to distance myself from your upbringing like they did, but I'm also not planning to micromanage your life. Just enough to keep you safe and guide you through the outside world. Does that sound agreeable?"

"I could live with that," he surprisingly sounded pleased by the notion instead of putoff as she had originally expected. She hummed in contemplation and fell silent for some time before feeling a tug from the hand still at her back.

"Jason?"

"Have a bag ready at all times. We'll need to leave at a moment's notice."

Damian fell silent, but she felt the way his hand relaxed it's grip at her, his quiet sigh all she needed. He would be ready.

…

Only a week after their conversation, an opportunity presented itself. Whether Talia played a hand in it, she didn't know, but either way, Marinette was not about to look this gift horse in the mouth. 

The two woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of chaos. Screaming came from outside, the crackling of fire and clang of metal hitting metal in the distance. The city was under attack.

Marinette pushed Damian to the edge of the bed, urging him up and grabbing their bags from hidden compartments around the room, throwing a change of clothes to the boy and grabbing her own, shoving armor and her mission clothes on, knowing the boy was doing the same somewhere out of sight. Soon, they were back in front of each other, Marinette adjusting his one small bag onto his back and carefully strapping the rest to her own before handing his katana over, bending down to look him in the eye.

"If it comes to it, don't hesitate. Your life is way more important to me than theirs. They will aim to kill you. I won't let them. But if someone gets past me, protect yourself."

"I know."

"Promise me. I don't care how much you think it upsets me. Promise me you'll do whatever it takes to make it out of here."

He looked down, lips twisting and brow furrowing before he met her eyes and nodded, "Promise."

Nodding, she led the way out, bladed staff at her back, knives in hand. By some stroke of luck, most of the fighting stayed some distance away. Happening upon a small crisped body, unrecognizable, she pushed Damian forward, grabbing a small blade off him as he passed and pushing it into the crumpled hand of the dead, pushing back fear at her own lack of respect for the dead. Now was not the time for a crisis. Looking up, she met his confused eyes, gesturing to the body size and pointedly looking him up and down. Realization struck and he nodded back. She wanted them to assume he died in the attack. As she headed towards a tunnel up ahead, he tugged on her wrist, leading her another direction. She gave a questioning look, but followed upon his insistence. As they turned another sharp corner, a body hit hers. She rolled with it, seeing another approach Damian and throwing a knife with perfect precision into the would be attackers neck as she hit the floor, her own now straddling her stomach. Before she could even start to fight back, a flash of silver crossed above her and blood rained down, covering her as the body dropped heavy on top of her. Shoving it off, she rolled onto her stomach and into a crouch, dragging her arm across her face and looking up into Damian's wide eyes, katana dripping blood in his hands. Clearing what she could from her face, she stood up and put a hand on his shoulder, turning him away from the scene and internalizing the moment to panic on later. She yanked her knife from the neck of the other and picked up their pace down the hall once more, urging him to take over directions again, not knowing his escape path and glad for the distraction it offered him. Turning down another path, Marinette caught sight of the carnage down a separate hallway and rushed them along faster. Damian pulled off the path into an alcove and shoved at the wall until it gave way to another blocked off path. They took the time to reset the wall to cover the path once more. At this point, she took out a glowstick, snapping it and allowing the acid green to light the way. 

At some point the path turned upwards and continued winding for another mile before letting out into a basement. Deciding not to tempt fate, they changed into civilian clothes and made their way out of the abandoned building. From there, they set off for the next city over before taking one of many sets of airline tickets shoved into the cash bag courtesy of Talia and flying out. Arriving in a new city, they rented a hotel room and burnt the remaining tickets. 

The next week followed the same pattern. Buying bus tickets and airline tickets under different IDs, some stolen from other league members, some falsified and placed in the bag weeks before with no one the wiser. 

By the end of the week, they reached their final destination. Gotham City. The last place anyone would expect Jason to run back to. Renting an apartment was easy enough, Talia and the league having been very thorough in teaching how to falsify documents, the former having taught her personally, the latter having taught Damian.

Around this time, in a dingy, inconspicuous hotel, Marinette broached a rather difficult topic.

"Damian, you need to decide who I am to you before we move forward."

"Put me down as-"

"Hold up, I'm not finished."

He huffed at her interruption, but gestured for her to continue.

"Do you know how Talia came across me?"

"You were a dead boy who came back to life and dropped into a coma. She took you in and healed you in the pit. You were connected to someone she cared about once."

"Have you heard of Batman and Robin?"

"Yes? I don't see what this has to do with anything."

"Jason was Robin. I was killed by the Joker, sat in a grave for something like six months in a dead body. It came back to life and I clawed out of that grave and to a hospital where I was indeed in a coma for a year before coming back and being found by Talia."

A contemplative pinch in his forehead showed up as he thought on her words, "You said Jason was Robin. But you died. What does that mean?"

"This is Jason's body, but I'm not Jason. I'm his soulmate. I died for him and the connection was lost. I've never been Jason, in all the time you've known me."

"Why are you telling me now?"

"You deserve to know exactly who I am before you decide anything. Especially anything pertaining to my guardianship over you."

"But I know who you are. What body you inhabit means nothing."

Marinette felt a tiny smile tilt the corner of her lip, "All the same."

"But… Out of curiosity, what's your real name?"

"Marinette," the name fell heavy off her tongue, foreign and harsh after nearly three years without use.

"On paper, you'll be my older brother, Jason, who gained full custody over me upon the death of our parents."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. In reality, you're my big sister though. Alright?"

"Alright. Mind if I take some liberties with the paperwork?"

Narrowed green eyes seemed to assess her for only a moment before he nodded and moved on to the next piece of legal work. The fact he could understand the jarbel on the sheet still caught her off guard at times. Shaking her head, she made a few adjustments on the electronic documentation, saving the work and erasing any trace of proof of her having hacked the system. Having her own laptop was coming in handy.

With their identities secured, she rented their new place and had them moved in within three days. 

While their cash wasn't even near dwindling, she began her hunt for work. Her first instinct was to return to design, but after so many years, the idea of designing clothing with no real purpose no longer held its appeal. Hopefully something would come her way soon.

…

Their first night in their new home, Damian crawled into her bed with nightmares from the night of their escape. She certainly felt the terror of that night in the back of her mind as well. 

"I'm sorry," the seven year old murmured, hunched up as though expecting anger.

"What for?" She whispered, rubbing the sleep from her eyes while turning towards the small voice.

"I didn't listen. When we escaped. You told me only to protect myself."

"You did protect yourself."

"I also protected you. You probably didn't even need my help, yet I killed that man before you could."

"I told you to do what you deemed necessary. Could you think of an alternative option?"

"No… they wouldn't have stopped until one of you were dead. He had to die for us to escape."

"Correct. While I wish that blood wasn't on your hands, his death in that moment was inevitable."

"You are still upset though."

"I would be upset either way. You shouldn't have to witness such things. But I'm glad we're both safe and that's what's important. That you're okay and neither of us will be put into such a position again."

"Do you resent your soulmate? For putting you through all of this?"

"No. Never. I chose to die for him. I chose to take every hit the Joker intended for him. I chose to take his place in the horrific life fate planned for him. He fought me in those last moments, you know? Tried to force his way back into his body. He didn't want this for me either. But I got a second chance. I've learned so much. I got you. And he's safer, wherever he is."

"You love him," he stated.

"I love him," she agreed easily.

Silence fell over the room and Damian shifted closer until he could snuggle right up into her side, holding a tense position until she wrapped an arm around him and whispered a soft goodnight. With that gentle acceptance, he immediately softened in her hold and fell into a restful sleep.

… 

Around eleven in the morning, she woke abruptly to a yanking sensation in the back of her mind. Stumbling out of the room, she pushed over to a bar stool in the open kitchen, collapsing onto it and leaning on the table before promptly blacking out.

#jasonette #maribat #ml x dc #WFTW #part 10 #im not thrilled with how this turned out? #but im also not sure if I could have written it any differently #the past tensed third person static perspective I gave this whole story is kind of weird #oh well #works so far

[mist-sly]

Sing of the Moon

Chapter Two: The Colosseum

I havnt uploaded in a while, been super busy with uni starting back. Currently working on chapter five which should hopefully be uploaded on AO3 this weekend! As well as some character art!!! Untill then enjoy chapter two!

“So, its true! That snake cheated!” Sirius shouted out. He had been pacing the conference room since he got to the UFC performance Institute to try and calm himself down.

“We can’t be certain of that Sirius. The only information we have is that the gloves that were worn during your fight had been tampered with.” Dumbledore said calmly. Sirius stopped pacing the room and looked at the old man.

He was furious. The moment Dumbledore called him that morning, he that it was true.

“Hold on Albus. Let us look at the facts here.” Fleamont Potter said. He along with James potter, Sirius best friend and four-time world boxing champion where sceptical when Sirius rang them that day. The idea that Snape had cheated and not one single official had noticed was not the most idealistic thing in the world.

“The gloves had been tampered with. We discovered this a month after Sirius lost his championship belt to Snape. Your officials missed it, leading to an unfair fight Dumbledore. The biggest fight of the year and yet you let one of the fighter’s cheats to win.” There was a sort of sharpness in Fleamont’s tone, but he did not seem angry.

“Yes, the gloves had been tampered with but there is no evidence that it happened before the fight. You have to see that the time gap between the fight and when you made this discovery is long.” Dumbledore said.

“I want his title revoked!” Sirius said, anger lacing his tone. Dumbledore looked up at him with a look of pity. A look that Sirius really did not want to see right now.

“How were the gloves tampered with?” James asked for the first time during this meeting. He and his dad had informed Dumbledore of the accusation but never actually got the look at the gloves. “Dana is still investigating but it seemed that one of the layers of padding had been replaced with-“

“Soft cast,” Sirius stated cutting Dumbledore off. The three men looked at Sirius confused. Dumbledore furrowed his brows before nodding. “Yes, how did you know about that?” Sirius ran a hair through his dark haired and closed his eyes tight. “More like how the fuck did he know about that,” he muttered to himself.

He hadn’t been able to get the interaction with the young man out of his head. He had gone through the possibilities on how the man could have known. He could have been a Snake, part of Snape’s team but then, Sirius knew that they wouldn’t let one of their own dress like he did.

There were so many questions revolving around that man. Who he was? Why did that girl call him ‘wolfy’? How did he get those scars? Or how did he get that fresh black eye?

So many things didn’t sit right with Sirius about the young man. That’s why Sirius wanted to find out everything, all the answers to his questions and further information about how he knew Snape cheated. However, that had to wait till after Sirius took care of business.

Fleamont let out a loud sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What are you going to do about Snape. The tampered gloves will not be let go unless we hear a proper solution.” Dumbledore smiled, opening a file and sliding it across the table. Fleamont picked it up and scanned its contents before handing it to Sirius. “A rematch, for the title?” Sirius hummed. Dumbledore nodded, his blue eyes watching Sirius carefully.

“Of course, a statement will have to be made to the press about the possibility of the tampered gloves being used in the title fight. A lot of media Sirius, you know what that means.” Sirius couldn’t help but smirk. Of course, this match wasn’t just for him. The press where like vultures for this type of thing. Fans would demand a rematch. It would become an even bigger fight, with bigger stakes. The UFC would be rolling in the cash that it would bring in. Sirius would be rolling in the cash.

“When?” he asked sliding the file back over to Dumbledore. “Well, your both scheduled fights. That books you till…. probably summer next year at UFC 264.” A year to prepare for a fight. A year to train and work harder than ever to crush Snapes greasy head into the ground. A year till he had his title back.

Sirius smiled and looked at James. The messy haired boy had his cocky grin on that only meant one thing. It’s time to cause a bit of mayhem. “I will get my agent to contact you and Dana. Its good doing business with you Dumbledore.” Sirius held out his hand which Dumbledore took.

James and Sirius stood outside the complex. There coats wrapped tightly around them. Fleamont having already left.

“So, what’s the game plan?” James asked. His dark skin shivering from the cold and his chocolate brown eyes looking at Sirius expectantly.

Sirius took a deep breath, exhaling and watching as the air condensed. “First,” he said looking at James. “I want to find that guy.” James raised an eyebrow at him, “and second,” he turned his attention back to the car park. “I want to know how the fuck he figured out the gloves were tampered with.”

James smirked as he watched Sirius storm away. A man on a mission. He shook his head and laughed. “This will be fun,” he said to himself before running after his best friend.

~

Sirius parked outside the same little coffee shop that he went to just the week before. His black Bentley looking very out of place in the rugged and run-down street. He and James had drove around for half an hour trying to find it. It was clear to the residents of the area that they were not from around these parts.

Sirius entered the coffee shop. The bell above the door ringing. The warmth and the smell of coffee pleasantly familiar to him. He walked over to the counter, James right by his side.

“Hello, what can I-”, Lils stopped when she noticed who it was. Her eyes darted from Sirius to James. She folded her arm in front of her and walked over to them. An eyebrow raised and her green eyes narrowing on them. “Up sider. What are you doing here?”

Sirius smirked at her and leaned on the counter. “Coffee. What else?” Lils rolled her eyes. “The coffee here tastes like shit. Nothing compared to that fancy stuff you two probably drink.” She was blunt. ‘Good’ Sirius thought makes this interrogation a hell of a lot easier for him, less sweet talking involved.

“Lils, that’s your name, right?” Sirius asked, running a hand through his hair to expose his enchanting silver eyes. The girl scoffed at him. Clearly his charm wouldn’t get him answers. “Lily, only my friends call me Lils.” She was snappy and sharp as a blade.

Sirius was about to say something when James leaned on the counter in between him and lily. “Hi lily. My names James, James potter. You might have heard of me, four-time world boxing champ.” He had that cocky grin on his face like always whenever he was chatting up a girl. He had put in his contacts prior to the hunt hoping to look more intimidating. Lily looked at him in disgust. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

James grin completely dropped. That was a first. Sirius rolled his eyes and shoved his friend out of the way. “I’m looking for that tall, skinny bloke. You know the one from the other day.” Lily just blinked at him. Sirius furrowed his brows looking from lily to James then back to Lily. “You know the guy with the caramel-coloured hair? He has amber eyes?” Still nothing. Sirius sighed and rubbed his face. “He had a scar on his nose and cheek, a fresh black eye with a cut in his eyebrow.”

Lily hummed and leaned forwards on the counter an amused smile on her face. “I didn’t expect you to name that many details Sirius Black,” lily said, a devilish grin growing on her face. That was a surprise. Sirius mouth dropped up; his eyebrows raised as he stood there frozen. “Knew who you were looking for the moment I saw that Bentley pull up outside.” Her grin was replaced with a warm smile that instantly made Sirius relax.

“So, what you want with wolfy?” She asked bringing three cups of coffee over to the booth that James and Sirius were now sitting at. She looked at both them and groaned sitting in beside James.

“He knew that the gloves in my last fight had been tampered with. Every detail he said was correct. I want to know how he knew.” Sirius stated taking a sip of his black coffee. The hot liquid burning his throat in the best way possible. A bitter taste settling on his tongue.

Lily hummed, staring at the cup of coffee she was nestling in her hands. She didn’t say anything. Her brows furrowing lost in thought. Sirius looked over at James, he was watching her closely with his chocolate eyes. James gently nudged her, seemingly snapping her out of where she had travelled to in her mind. She shook her head lightly and smiled at James.

“Sorry. I don’t know if I can help you with that.” She looked at Sirius a frown on her face. Her eyes where softer now. “Could you at least tell us where we might find him,” James asked. Lily looked down at her cup again, biting her lip.

She closed her eyes and scrunched up her nose. Her green eyes finding Sirius again. “I can show you were he is, but you can’t tell anyone about this place.” Sirius smiled and nodded, “yeah, sure- “ Lily cut him off again, “I mean it Sirius!” She said it so firmly that Sirius immediately shut up. She stared at him intensely, her eyes pleading him. This was important to her. Lily was helping him, the least he could do was promise her.

“I promise you. I won’t tell anyone, and I never break a promise.” Lily scanned his face for any indication that he might be lying. After finding none she nodded. “Ok…” she took out her note pad and pen from the pocket in her apron. Scribbling something down. “Meet at this address at Nine tonight. Tell no one that you’re coming. Do not knock on the door, just wait outside for me. Oh, and walk, your car will draw far too much attention.” Sirius let out a small laugh at the instructions, but lily’s face remained completely serious.

“Ok, Nine O’clock. We’ll be there.”

~

It was freezing. The nights always seemed so much colder in Gryffindor. The darkness lasting longer with every passing day, winter drawing closer.

Sirius shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. The blood in his finger turning cold and making them numb. He could see his own breath every time he exhaled as if he were smoking. Beside him, James pulled his white hat over his tinted red ears. A thick red puffer coat zipped the whole way up to his neck.

It was ten minutes past nine. They had arrived fifteen minutes earlier at the address lily had given them, just in case but they didn’t anticipate how cold it would be. They also had the added company of their friend, Peter Pettigrew. The small, chubby boy was wrapped up in gloves, scarf, and hat. The problem however with inviting Peter was that he winged about everything.

“Are you sure she didn’t just tell you to come here just to make you look like an idiot and freeze to death? Who even is this chick anyways?” Peter grumbled. Sirius rolled his eyes. That was the tenth time he had asked these questions. “Oh, shut up Peter,” James snapped. He was more than happy to come. Excited even. For him it was like a new adventure and the fact that he wouldn’t stop talking about the red-haired girl since they left the coffee shop, could also be a reason why he was so excited.

“Just look where we are! Have you even been to this part of Gryffindor before? For fuck sake, were standing outside an abandoned building,” Peter fired back, waving his hands around and gesturing to the building they were currently standing outside.

Peter was not wrong. The address Lily give them was a couple of streets away from the coffee shop. It was an old building. Glass littered the pavement outside it, the windows boarded up with wood. The brick wall had a large, spray-painted wolf, howling at the moon on it. The art itself was very detailed, silver spray paint had even been used on the fur and moon to make it shine and sparkle when the streetlight shone of it.

“She will be here,” Sirius said firmly, pulling the hood of his hoodie up. As if on que, the sound of heals clicking down the pavement echoed round the empty and abandoned street. Lily smiled as she walked towards them. James clearing his throat and straightening up. “Hi guys, sorry I’m late.” She stopped a give Sirius an apologetic look noticing him shivering before noticing Peter.

“Who’s this?” Lily eyes scanned Peter up and down, narrowing in as the small boy gulped nervously.

“This is Peter he’s a friend and employee of mine. He’s an analysist, helps find fighters styles and any mistakes they might have made in previous fights,” Sirius said, eyeing lily as she examined the boy.

Lily hummed and turned towards an ally. “Let’s get going, I don’t want to miss the fight.”

The boys looked at each other before following her. “Fight?” James asked, quickly walking beside her. Lily just rolled her eyes stopping in front of a large metal door. She banged on the door three times, making the boys flinch. There was a pause before lily banged on it once more.

The sound of locks roughly turning on the other side, bounced off the walls of the alleyway.

The door swung open. The boys all looked up as a very large man stood in front of them all. He was tall, taller than the young man Sirius was trying to find. His shoulders were broad and his arms huge. He wasn’t fat. Defiantly not fat with the amount of pure muscles he had.

Peter gulped loudly as James leaned over to Sirius. “How the hell do you find these people?” he whisper shouted. Sirius just blinked up at the man, making sure that he was real.

The man narrowed his dark blue eyes on them. A few strands of his dark red hair falling over them. “Who are you?” He grunted out, looking each of them up and down.

Sirius stepped forwards into the light of the doorway. He watched as the man’s eyes widened in recognition. “Sirius Black?” Sirius didn’t answer him. He was to transfix on the large scar that ran down the center of the man face. It started from the top of his forehead, ran down the bridge of his nose and out onto his left cheek. It truly made the man look scary.

“It’s rude to stare,” said the man, snapping Sirius out of state. He cleared his throat and looked away, just past the man to the inside of the building. “Sorry, that’s me.”

The man raised an eyebrow at Sirius before Lily finally decided to speak up, “Cain let us in, its freezing out here!” She yelled, pushing past Sirius. Sirius watched as the scary looking man smiled softly at her.

“Lily! How nice of you to stop by,” Cain said cheerfully. Lily rolled her eyes but smiled non the less. “Yeah, yeah. These guys are looking for wolfy, mind if we come in now?”

Cain looked past lily. His eyes landing on Sirius suspiciously. “Fine,” he said, moving out of the way to let them in. Lily looked back at the guys and grinned as they followed her inside. “So, what are professional fighters like you two want with a guy like wolfy?” Cain asked, pushing his way to the front.

“That’s private business,” Sirius stated as Cain lead them down a dark and damp hallway. The dark green wallpaper was peeling away, and the floors creaked with every step. Lights flickered overhead and the faded sound of shouting and cheering drew closer. “Suit yourself,” Cain shrugged.

Sirius looked over at James. The dark-skinned boy was looking around in complete awe. Sirius could understand why. The two off them had grown up in wealth and fame. Dirty and destroyed places like this weren’t exactly common in their world. “What is this place?” James breathed out.

Cain looked over his shoulder at them, an eyebrow raised. “You mean you don’t know?” He asked stopping outside a pair of double doors. The sound of shouting and cheering was louder now but still muffled by the metal doors.

The boys shook their heads. Cain grinned at them. “Well lads. Welcome…. TO THE COLOSSEUM!” He shouted pushing the two doors open.

Bright overhead lights shone into Sirius eyes as he walked through the doors. The group finding themselves on a balcony overlooking what seemed to be an indoor stadium. Rows upon rows of people cheering and shouting, the sound of bets being made and taunting sending a wave of electricity up Sirius spine. Right in the middle of it all was an octagon ring that Sirius knew all too well.

“You wanted wolfy, well there he is,” Lily said. A smile was plastered on her face as she leaned on the railing looking over the ring. Sirius’s silver eyes watched the two people fighting. His mouth suddenly felt dry as that familiar cameral coloured, head of hair ducked to dodge a punch. “It’s him…” he barley managed to whispered out.

Peter and James stood either side of him, watching the fight starstruck. “Sirius, mate. I hate to burst your bubble, but you described this guy as tall and skinny,” James said practically bouncing on his feet as ‘wolfy’ landed a hard left hook. “That guy is anything but skinny!” Peter gasped as if offended Sirius could ever describe the man like that.

Sirius gulped as the two fighters danced around the ring. The young man now facing towards him. His amber eyes were bright, sweat dripping down his forehead. His arms, legs and torso shining in the light. He stood up straighter, pushing his sweat drenched hair out of his face which only seemed to smear the blood that ran down his nose, everywhere.

Sirius blinked a few times to make sure he was seeing things right. His feet felt like they were stuck to the ground, unable to move or look away. Only one thought swam through his mind…

“Who the hell is this guy?!”

#wolfstar #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #James Potter #lily evans #MMA AU #Sing of the Moon #Chapter 2

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

Their Hero Academia - Chapter 83: Of Sound and Wings

Continuing my nextgen MHA fic!

Earlier chapters can be found here

To say Toshi was worried was an understatement.  While no one had said anything bad would happen if they lost the relay, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to give it his all. Which meant he had to make sure he wasn’t going to let anyone else down either.  And he was more than certain that, however the relay worked out, Aizawa and Uncle Kacchan would be using whatever he saw to help format their lessons going forward.  Their teacher would just use any failings to push them all the harder.

He couldn’t allow his differences with Tatsuma to be the reason they failed.  While there hadn’t been any more violence or any scuffles between the U.A. and Shiketsu students (Not even from Katsumi, which seemed to be a minor miracle in and of itself), there was still a strained feeling when some members of the two groups interacted.  And Tatsuma had made a point of avoiding him.

He needed to be able to clear the air with the Shiketsu girl.  Even if there was still bad blood afterwards, he needed to apologize and he needed to make sure that they’d be able to work together.  Plenty of Heroes didn’t get along off the field but could put their differences aside enough to fight alongside each other.  He would have liked to at least get to that point.

They had a few minutes before they had to start getting ready, so he sought her out, finding her standing alone.  The other Shiketsu students looked to have already peeled off to find their respective U.A. partners.

“Ah, hey, Tatsuma,” he began.  “Do you have a minute to talk?”

Tatsuma didn’t budge an inch. When she spoke she didn’t even turn around. “Later than I expected this to happen. The instructors have forced your hand.”

Toshi frowned and swallowed nervously.  “You’re right,” he said.  “I have been putting this off.”  Not very heroic of him, really.  “And the timing makes it look even less great than it already is.”

Best to just get it out there.

“I owe you an apology.”

She turned to look at him now. With her arms crossed and her stoic stance, it made her already tall figure even more imposing.

“For what?” The question is not one of confusion or lack of knowledge, but rather did he understand what he should be sorry about. 

Toshi was of average height for his age, with maybe a few more inches to go, but the way Tatsuma simply towered over most people did nothing to ease the situation.  “I was pretty insensitive when we talked near the beginning of the camp,” he began.  “And didn’t do a good job of listening to what you were actually saying.  It’s been pointed out that I don’t always see the privileged position my family gives me and I trivialized something very important to you.”

He looked up.  “And for that, I’m sorry.”

Tatsuma listened, looking at him carefully before speaking. “Well I can’t find a realistic problem with your apology. So..thank you.” Her eyes narrowed a bit. “I’d argue it’s something many Heroes should see as important, but now is a pointless time to argue it.”

Toshi nodded.  It was about as good a reaction as he could have hoped for.  Tatsuma didn’t seem like the type to lash out violently, the way Katsumi might (Though in truth, Katsumi was always more bark than bite), but he’d been deeply afraid of making things worse.  He was a Class Representative.  He was supposed to be a leader, someone others looked to and who helped make things right, not someone who caused trouble with other schools.  

“You’re not wrong,” he agreed.  “I’ve grown up around enough Heroes, not just my family…”   He winced slightly.  A reminder of all that probably wasn’t the best choice of words.  “But a lot of them question if they’re not good enough, if they’re not doing enough.  And their failures stay with them too.”

Dad didn’t talk about it much.  He wanted to keep a smiling face, especially for this family.  But as Toshi had gotten older, he’d been more willing to talk about the lives he couldn’t save, the times he was too slow or too late.  He’d wanted to impress upon Toshi that being a Hero could bring great joy, but that it would weigh you down too.

“I don’t know why the press or the public treated your mother differently.  But she didn’t deserve that.”

For a time, he had had her attention. Maybe he’d gotten this right. Tatsuma was also a Class Rep. and as such she represented her school. As much as she may have wanted to show up UA, she had to know holding grudges like that weren’t good for anybody.  And it was true that in the past, the rankings had led to a lot of damaging and toxic behavior.  You just had to look at Izzy’s grandfather for that.  But things were different now, right?  But when he mentioned her mother, he suddenly felt the situation change, the hairs on the back of his next standing up.

Human life had started long after the dinosaurs had died out, despite what a lot of science fiction would have people believe.  But if a man had been threatened by a t-rex, he was certain it would felt like what he was feeling now.

Toshi would later swear that he saw Tatsuma’s eyes go red. “Because of the damn rankings!” Smoke started to unfurl from her nostrils. “She fell from the all-mighty Top Ten! The heroes of all heroes! You think anyone says anything if someone drops a rank in the 20’s or 30’s? No, no one cares about their efforts. But if someone can’t cut being in the Top Ten-!” Her skin looked like a very thin layer of scales was forming. 

“That's all my mother ever heard! ‘You couldn’t cut it.’ ‘Leave it to the men!’ ‘You weren’t meant to be among the elite!” All because of how the rankings portray what Heroes are supposed to be!” 

She was now towering over Toshi now. “I won’t dismiss what your father has done for this country, or any of the others in the Ten, but if you can’t see how it has also harmed those who have done nothing but sacrificed-!” Her hands clenched. She was very, VERY close, then snarled and turned away. 

“Seung’s worked too hard to keep her emotions in control. I can’t disgrace that effort.” Tatsuma let out a breath, a steaming hot one. “You’ll never get it. You’re too ingrained. I should probably just accept that.” She was quiet for a moment, before finally speaking up again. “What else did you want?”

To his credit, Toshi had managed to stand his ground during Tatsuma’s tirade, only taking a slight step backwards once. As it was, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest.  “I’m sorry,” he began.  “This is important to you, I can tell.   And I’m sorry for the pain it’s caused you and your mom.  What happened to her wasn’t right and wasn’t fair.”

He straightened up a little.  Maybe this was too much meddling.  But wasn’t meddling the job of a Hero?  Tatsuma had so much anger in her, it was going to consume if she didn’t find a way to break it.

“And maybe I am too close to see some things.  But I’m also close enough to a lot of things to see some of the details.  When your mother started dropping in rankings, it was a different time.  The world was still hurting from the loss of All Might and wanted its Heroes to be more perfect than they were, than they could actually be.  I don’t know, can’t know, if that was the cause, but I’d be surprised if that didn’t have something to do with it. And none of that would make it right or fair if it did.  

“But while I can’t quote you chapter and verse like Shota could, I can tell you that plenty of people have risen and fallen out of the Top Ten in the last decade or more, and only the trashiest and least reputable ‘news’ sources and commentators are bad mouthing them.  Creati dropped down to Number Eleven a while back.  And you know what she did?  She congratulated Rodeo, who jumped up to Seven and knocked her ranking down.”

He frowned.  “What happened to Ryukyu wasn’t right.  I agree with you on that.  And you’ve every right to be angry about it.  But I don’t think it’s like that anymore.”

He shook his head.  Maybe there was still something he was missing.  But he had to try and bridge that gap.  “But maybe you’re right.  Maybe this is something we can’t agree on.  But can we work together?”

She looked back at him. “If Ground Zero and Deku could learn to work together, it would be embarrassing and shameful if we couldn’t.” There is the vaguest hint of a smile. Maybe he’d said some of the right things.  At least, he hadn’t made it any worse.

Toshi gave her a small smile of his own.  “Oh, the stories I could tell you about that…”

***

The Rookies’ relay course was set up in the woodlands around their compound, virtually invisible from the treetops, but complicated once you got to it.  There were bridges and swings, with complex structures built into the trees.  The tree line itself was thick with trees and other vegetation, making it difficult to see where any attack might be coming from.  Fortunately, their path was pretty straightforward.  

“You got Tomodachi okay?” Inuzaki asked.  He was ahead of Shota, in dog form, pausing every so often to sniff the air.

“Good enough,” Shota told him. The “civilian” they were rescuing was a training dummy, like the kind they used at U.A.  It was about the size of an adult man and loaded with sensors that would tally up injuries and damage.  They had immediately decided that he’d needed a name. Shota had him over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.  He didn’t need his arms free to use his Quirk, after all.  

“He’s pretty heavy though!” Shota said.  “Maybe he should run the course too!”  He was in good shape—you couldn’t be in the Hero course and not be—but he wasn’t anywhere near as fit as Toshi, Kirishima-Bakugo, or Shoji.  Even Inuzaki was in better shape than him when he was in human form.  Still, his joke did get a laugh out of Inuzaki, so it was worth it.

Dad always said you had to take care of your body as much as your Quirk.  Maybe he needed to start working out more.  Toshi was always working out.  But he got up so early to do it!

 “Smell anything?” Shota asked.

Inuzaki stopped and shook his head.  “Maybe.  Lots of smells.  I can smell people.  Mostly the Rookies.  They’ve been through here a lot.  Might be trying to make it confusing.”

“Let me try,” Shota said.  He took in a breath then started to unleash one of his sonar-screams, but stopped when Inuzaki started whining.

He cut the scream immediately.  “What, what is it?” Shota asked.

Inuzaki winced.  “Your scream hurt my ears,” he said, quietly.  “It was like a knife through my skull!”

Crap!  His Quirk and Inuzaki’s weren’t compatible?  How were they going to do this?  He had to scream to use his Quirk!  When they got attacked, he’d have to use it!  But if it hurt his friend, then what could he do?  Maybe it was only certain frequencies?

“That’s only when you’re a dog, right?” Shota asked.  “Change back for a second.  I’ll get a quick look and then we can keep going.”

“Okay,” Inuzaki agreed.  He stopped though, his back leg scratching at his ear.  “Hang on, gotta scratch first.”

“Oh!  How cute!”

The girlish voice seemed to come from nowhere.  It could only be Ojiro!  But where was she?!

Inuzaki sniffed.  “Ah ha!  Got you!”  He jumped up and seemed to collide with something in mid-air.  Ojiro reappeared as they hit the ground.  

“Oh, dang it!” Ojiro cried out.  She tried to get up, but Inuzaki’s weight was keeping her down.  “I got distracted!

“Hold her still!” Shota said.  They’d been given ‘capture cuffs’ so that they could harmlessly take their classmates out of the fight, though there was a good chance they’d have to do at least a little damage.  He had some in his pocket, but he also had the dummy!  Crap!  What were they going to…  Inuzaki changed back to his human form in a puff of smoke.  He had capture cuffs too!  Right.  Why was he worried?

Ojiro was quick though, using that moment of transition to act.  She brought her legs up, flipping Inuzaki over her, then sprang up to her feet.  “So close!” she said.  “But not quick enough!”  Meanwhile, Inuzaki changed back to dog form in midair, landing easily.  He and Ojiro circled each other warily.

Before he could help, the ground started shaking.  Shota swallowed hard.  He remembered now, one of Class 1-B had a vibration-based Quirk, didn’t she?  Mio Yamaguchi, a dark haired girl.

The vibrations picked up intensely, knocking Shota off his feet.  He hit the ground, twisting to minimize the damage to Tomodachi, but he knew he took at least a small hit.  “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Shota told the dummy.  Carefully getting back to his feet, he looked around for any sign of Yamaguchi or anyone else.  Behind him, he could hear the sounds of Ojiro and Inuzaki fighting.

He wanted to help.  He really did.  But if there was more trouble coming, somebody had to watch.

Doing the right thing sucked sometimes.   But he had to trust that Inuzaki was going to be able to handle it.   “Better hold your ears, Tomodachi,” he told the dummy.  “It might get loud!”  If he kept his powers really focused, hopefully he’d wouldn’t hurt Inuzaki either.

There.  Yamaguchi stepped into view, looking beyond Shota.  “Can’t you catch one dog, Ojiro?” she asked, sounding annoyed.

From behind him, Ojiro called out.  “It’s really hard!  He’s really fast!”

Yamaguchi rolled her eyes.  “Okay, let me just take care of the kid and I’ll help.”  She brought up both of her hands, unleashing vibrational waves that seemed to blur the air in front of her.

Dang it!  Just because he was short and a few months younger, it didn’t mean he was a baby!  Why did everybody treat him like he was a little kid!

“YOU’RE NOT GONNA STOP ME!” he shouted, clenching his fists.  He unleashed his Quirk, turning a shout into a broad sonic wave.  His wave met Yamaguchi’s vibrational blast in mid-air, where there was a small explosion of air as the two different waves hit each other, before his own caused hers to dispense. Somewhere behind him, he heard Inuzaki yelp.  He just prayed his new friend could hold on.

“What?” Yamaguchi said.  “How’d you do that?”

Shota grinned.  “I canceled out your vibrations with my own!”  Maybe not as good as Uncle Shota’s Erasure, but his sonic vibrations could stop hers well enough.

Again and again, Yamaguchi threw her vibrational blasts at him, but Shota kept canceling them out. Her vibrations were at least as strong as his sonics.  Keepings up that kind of pace, matching vibration with vibration, was making his skull rattle. Even without the blasts hitting him, he could practically feel the vibrations in his bones.  Even though he wasn’t used to fighting someone with powers even a little bit like his own, he was holding his ground, but if he didn’t do something, he was sure to lose!

“Okay, that’s it…” Yamaguchi said. A look of annoyance crossed her face. “Guess it’s time to bring down the house!”  Her eyes narrowed and she brought both hands together and pointed them down, ready to unleash another vibrational blast.  The air was practically humming as she charged up her power.  He had to do something… now!

Shota took in another breath and screamed, hitting the ground under Yamaguchi with a carefully modulated sonic pulse.  While he mostly used his Quirk for purely destructive sonic screams, he could do so much more than that depending on the frequencies he hit.  Everything from sonar to force fields to all kinds of other effects.  In this case, he could hyper-agitate molecules causing…

An explosion!  It wasn’t a big one, but the ground underneath Yamaguchi exploded, knocking her off her feet and several feet back.  As she landed, Shota rushed over, unclipping one of the capture cuffs from his belt.  Yamaguchi was still trying to get her bearings when he slapped one end on her wrist and then the other.

“All right!” he cheered.  “Got you!”  

Yamaguchi just stared at him, then rolled her eyes.  “Monoma’s never going to let me hear the end of this.”

Shota wondered why Monoma would give her a hard time.  She tried her best!  

“Oh, dang it!  This is so unfair!  How you can you be this cute and this tough?!  IF YOU WERE CLOSER, I’D GIVE YOU SUCH A SMACK!”

Shota’s attention was instantly drawn to where Inuzaki had managed to corner Ojiro.  She’d climbed up into a tree, and Inuzaki was back in dog form, circling the bottom of it.  

Inuzaki transformed back to his human shape.  “Can you get her down?  I’m not so good with climbing.”

Shota nodded.  “Let me try this one…”   He let lose another scream, shifting the pitch a bit.   This time, when his sonic attack hit the tree, it began to shake and vibrate violently, but it didn’t explode.

“Nnnnnnnoooo  fffffaaaaiiiirrrrr,” Ojiro wailed.  She was struggling to hang on and ultimately lost the fight.  She fell, landing flat on the ground.  “Ouch…”   She held her up arms.  “Just cuff me already.”

***

They’d probably gone another two kilometers, easy.  Shota wasn’t really good with eyeballing distances.  Every now and then, they’d trade off, with Inuzaki resuming his human form so he could carry Tomodachi and so Shota could scan the area with sonar.  But the forest was so thick with trees and everything else, it was hard to see anything that way.  Buildings were a lot easier.  

“How much further?” he asked.  He was pretty sure they’d been told how far they had to travel for the hand-off, but he may not have been paying the best attention.

“About another couple kilometers,” Inuzaki said.  “I think.  Everything looks bigger from down here.”

Not too much farther then.  But there were definitely more of his classmates or schoolmates out there, waiting for them.  Unless they were really dogpiling the other teams, there had to be at least one, maybe two more coming after them.  Even Shota could do that kind of math.

“Do you smell anything?” Shota asked.  It hadn’t worked so well last time, not with all the other smells in the forest, but maybe they’d get lucky.

Inuzaki made a weird face, one which looked even stranger on a dog.  “I smell something,” he said.  “Like ink, maybe?”

“Oh!” Shota said.  He knew who that was!  “Fukidashi!”

“The cartoon girl?” Inuzaki asked.  He sounded a little annoyed, which was surprising, given how well he got on with everyone.  “I tried talking to her a few times, but every time I did, she just kept going on about how cute I was. Just like the invisible girl. It got old really fast.”

Shota frowned, looking around.  Where could she be?  His eyes fell on a strange looking patch of ground.  “Do you see that?” he asked, pointing.

“Is that patch of ground a different color?” Inuzaki asked, curiously.  

Shota bent down and grabbed a stick from the ground.  Getting back up with Tomodachi on his shoulders was tricky, but he managed it.  He gave the stick a toss towards the patch of ground.

The stick hit something, making a small thunk sound.  Instantly, Anime Fukidashi sprang from the patch on the ground, partially covered in leaves and dirt.  “Aw,” Fukidashi said as she landed.  “How did you know?!”

“The ground was a different color,” Inuzaki said.  He bent down low, ready to pounce.  

“Dammit!” Fukidashi yelled.  Her head somehow got larger as she yelled, becoming larger than the rest of her body.  “Betrayed by the drawing on the animation cell!”

Inuzaki looked over at Shota.  “Is she all right?” he asked.  Shota just shrugged.  Even he and Toshi had no real idea how her Quirk worked or how it affected her.  

Before any of them could act, suddenly, something snaked around Tomodachi, yanking him off Shota’s shoulders!  There was Kaminari, coming out of the bushes behind Fukidashi, her Cords wrapped around the dummy and dragging it towards her.  He could even see a few sparks dancing across her Cords and areas of the dummy lighting up as it registered damage.

“Nice job being the distraction, Fukidashi,” Kaminari said.  Her expression turned slightly apologetic.  “Sorry Shinso, but you’re not winning this one.”

He couldn’t get in a good sonic blast with her holding Tomodachi like that.  He was in the way and she could still shock him either way.  “Aw, c’mon, Kaminari,” he said sadly.  “We gotta win this one!  Everybody’s counting on us!  I don’t want to disappoint everybody!  I just…  I just gotta…”

Her face fell as he talked.  There.  There was his moment.  “Aaaaah!” Shota let out a shout, a regular one, and charged, tackling Kaminari about the middle and knocking her to the ground. He hated tricking her like that, but if everybody was going treat him like a little kid, then maybe he should take advantage of that. He landed on top of her, with his head on her…  He jerked his head up quickly!

Kaminari’s Cords reflexively reeled in when he tackled her, but as she soon as she was able, her Cords poked into his back and unleashed a jolt of electricity.  It wasn’t a strong shock, just enough to make him release his grip, but it still hurt.  Shota let out a cry of pain and let go, as Kaminari shoved him off her.  As he hit the ground, he could see Fukidashi trying to hit Inuzaki with a comically oversized hammer.

“Dang it!” Fukidashi yelled when her latest hammer strike failed to hit Inuzaki.  “Why won’t the music change?  Isn’t he a comedy character?!”

Kaminari, meanwhile, was back on her feet, heading for Tomodachi again.  She was too close!  If he missed with a sonic blast, he’d hit the dummy.  But he’d been working hard on his Quirk all through the camp.  And Bioshock helped him figure out some other pitches he could use.  If he could go high, Bioshock had said, he could go low.

Infrasound.

He opened his mouth and pitched his sonic power low, buffeting Kaminari with waves of low-frequency sound.  She stopped in her tracks, suddenly clutching her stomach.  She wobbled on her feet, before falling to her knees, throwing up.   Shota was already on his feet, running past her.  “Sorry!” he called out.  “It won’t last long, I promise!  Sorry!  Sorry!  Sorry!”

As quick as he could, he hoisted Tomodachi over his shoulders again.

Inuzaki had Fukidashi cornered now, growling.   She let the hammer fall from her hands and it vanished as soon as it let her fingers.  “Sure, now the dramatic music plays.”

Inzuki reared up and hit Fukidashi hard with both front paws, knocking her to the ground.  She hit her head on the ground and laid there, stunned, with little cartoon birds floating around her head.

Shota definitely didn’t understand how her Quirk worked.

“C’mon,” he said, moving as fast as he could.  “They won’t be down for long!”

He and Inuzaki ran.  Soon enough, he could see Kocho and Shida waiting up ahead, standing next to a small sign that clearly marked the second leg of the relay.

They’d done it!

***

Shinso and Inuzaki had definitely looked worse for wear by the time they’d arrived and handed off the training dummy (Which they’d named, for some reason.) to Koharu and Shida.  The two had spun a tale of being ambushed twice, but had managed to successfully fight their way through.  It gave her a good idea of what to expect.  There would probably be at least four attackers then, though there might be more.  She’d done the math. There weren’t quite enough students for a totally even split.

At least for now, Shida was carrying the dummy.  With her spider-legs carrying her in a way that reminded Koharu a lot of how Shoji traveled with his own Quirk, she was able to hold the dummy in her arms and remain mobile.  Koharu herself was flapping her wings, floating just a bit above ground level.  That way, if they needed to engage, she wouldn’t waste any time on a takeoff.  The forest canopy, for now, meant moments to fly really high were going to be few and far between, but there was enough space between the trees that someone could still fly under it. 

And flying above the canopy had been strictly prohibited.  Even if it wasn’t against the rules, there were several other students with flight Quirks and it was likely at least one of them would be playing the Villain for their leg of the relay.  And she’d be leaving Shida behind if she did that, which seemed like it would defeat the purpose of the exercise. 

None of which did anything to quell her body’s primary panic at the spider-like aspects of the Shiketsu girl.  Given there were spiders that ate moths, it was a natural reaction for animal-type Quirks like theirs. She was getting better at it than when the camp had started, though.  It helped that the other girl was incredibly nice (and, she admitted with a blush, rather cute), but her instinctive reaction was still just below the surface.

On the plus side, the two of them were going to be incredibly hard to sneak up on.  Between Shida’s multiple-eyes and her own antenna, they had a range of extra-sensory perception.  

“See anything?” Koharu asked quietly.  Her antennae weren’t giving her any good information, unless you counted knowing where several squirrels and more than a few birds were.

“Not yet.” Shida said. If she’d noticed that Koharu tended to keep her distance from her, she didn’t let on but she seemed happy enough to be working with her. Her six eyes glanced about in multiple directions. “I doubt that will be the case much longer.” It didn’t help that she wasn’t sure where exactly to look. Knowing who the “Villains” were would have helped, but Heroes seldom had a heads-up. 

“Me neither,” she replied.  But Shida was right.  Sooner than later was to be expected.

It didn’t take long for that sooner to become now.  There was a great cracking sound and one of the trees fell, blocking the way forward for a moment.  Someone strong then, or maybe Kaniyashiki from 1-B with her scissor Quirk?  But even then, between her ability to fly and Shida’s legs, it would only slow them down for a minute.  So what was their enemy’s plan?

A sound like jet engines told her what it was: a distraction!

Faster than a bullet, one of the Iida twins--Sora, she realized--blasted through the air right towards them.  She was fast enough that Koharu couldn’t react in time to stop her, only to get out of the way.  Iida stuck an arm out as she flew past, grabbing the arm of the dummy Shida was carrying as she tried to rocket away.

Like Koharu, Shida hadn’t seen Sora coming. She’d told Koharu before they’d set out that, while spiders had six eyes, their sense of sight actually wasn’t all that strong. She could see more than most people, but only by volume, not by magnification. There was no way either of them should have been able to see her coming in time. But somehow, Akira’s second-from-the back left spider-leg to shot out in a reflexive strike. 

It was a solid strike, enough to send the Iida girl flying off course, slamming head first into a tree trunk.  She still had the dummy though, which made things complicated.  Already, she was scrambling back to her feet, although quite unsteadily.  Koharu spat a blob of String Shot at her, pinning her to the tree with a mass of sticky strands stronger than steel.

“How did you do that?” Koharu asked, unable to keep the amazement out of her voice.

Shida bowed her head slightly and smiled.  “My leg hairs.  They’re very sensitive to vibrations.  It’s a bit of an instinctive reaction to danger like that.”

“This is excellent tensile strength,” Iida said, as she struggled to break free.  She sounded impressed. Koharu could hear the other girl’s Jetpack engines firing, but for the moment, her String Shot held.  “I would love an opportunity to examine this at a later date! The uses are practically unlimited!”

“Sister!” a voice called out.  It had to be Tensei Iida.  “As much as I am in agreement with you, now is hardly the time for scientific curiosity!”

“It is always the time for curiosity, little brother!”

“I have asked you to stop calling me that!”

“Maybe you two could have this discussion another time?” Another voice asked.   It was Shoji. He sounded very, very tired. Koharu didn’t blame him. The Iidas were very nice, but they could also be exhausting.

Shoji dropped down from between two trees, using his extra arms like spider-legs, free-falling the last few feet to land with a slight thud.  Tensei Iida, meanwhile, dropped down with a series of shot Jetpack bursts to slow his fall.  Both of them were between Koharu and Shida and the dummy.

She shot Shida a quick glance.  “How long can you hold your breath?” she whispered.  Iida and Shoji were playing defense for the moment, watching them.  

“That’s a complicated answer with my mixed body. But I can “hold it” long enough. What are you planning?” Koharu remembered, vaguely, that spiders didn’t breathe in the same way as some animals, but she didn’t know how that applied to the spider-girl.

“I can drop a sleeping powder from my wing scales,” Koharu said quickly and quietly.  Shoji was eying them warily, all six of his arms up in a fighting stance, while Tensei Iida attempted to free his sister and the dummy without success.  “If I can cover a wide enough area, I can knock them out.  Iida’s crazy fast and Shoji’s crazy strong.  Probably the best chance we’ve got.”

“Hmm, I could use my legs to lift my body above the powder. Plus I should be able to use my leg hairs to feel the vibrations of where they might move even if I can’t see them,” Shida suggested. 

Koharu nodded.  These were all Hero students with months of training that she simply didn’t have.  And many of them had even more than that, coming from Hero families.  Neither side here had a full understanding of what the other could do, so evening out to neutral was the closest they had to an advantage. “Let’s do it.”

She flapped hard, gaining height and propelling herself forward towards the boys, already releasing her Sleep Powder from her wings.   Down below, Tensei Iida looked up and let out a cry of alarm, while Shoji moved towards Shida, his top pair of extra arms stretching out to grab at her.

Shida saw Shoji heading for her, scanning above herself with her uppermost eyes. Staying on the ground was a bad idea as she had no idea how strong Shoji really was. She bent her legs, took a moment to look Shoji in the eyes, and gave the six-armed boy a wink that Koharu would have called flirtatious, before her legs suddenly unbent and sent her flying up into the air. Shooting well up past the smaller trees, Shida extended several of her legs to pierce and grab onto the nearest larger specimen.  Others of her legs lashed out at Shoji.

Shoji dodged out of the way of the initial strike, pushing himself to the side with his lower set of arms.  “Good reflexes,” he said, his voice smooth, like silk. He craned his neck to follow Shida, top arms extending out at her, but his maximum extension wasn’t enough to get him close.

Meanwhile, having recovered from his initial shock, Tensei Iida was rocketing into the air.  He was a major threat, though without the armor and support equipment Koharu had seen him use during the final exam, possibly slightly less of one.   And she had the advantage in maneuverability.

She flapped hard as she flew, releasing her Sleep Powder from her wings until the air was filled with the orange powder.   Iida got the worst of it, flying directly into the cloud of it.  He coughed and sputtered and was out almost immediately.  Which meant that his Jetpack cut out and he started falling like a stone.  Koharu cursed and went into into a dive, catching him in midair by grabbing his wrists. She let loose a cry of pain as her jerked to a stop. It felt like her arms were being torn from their sockets!

“Dammit,” she hissed.  Iida was heavy, muscular and compact.  She could just about manage to carry her own bodyweight when flying, but he was definitely heavier than she was.  She dropped down low and released him, letting him hit the ground.  He’d gotten more than enough powder that he didn’t wake up.

Shoji, meanwhile, was still standing. She’d had to stop spreading her powder to keep Tensei from dropping and he hadn’t gotten nearly as big a dose.  His arms lashed out again, grabbing her wrists!

It had been a gamble that she’d be able to drop Shoji, especially as big as he was and as little powder as she’d been able to release.  She was glad Shida had her back. As soon as she’d seen Koharu drop down to save Iida, the spider-girl had already been making her way down the tree when Shoji extended his arms to grab Koharu.

She watched as Shida did her best to land from an angle that she hoped was in Shoji’s blind spot. Her legs made surprisingly little noise when they were in motion, and she sped toward the big, six-armed boy. When close enough she extended her two front legs and brought them in a scything motion toward the back of Shoji’s knees. 

Shoji was a big guy, which made him a pretty big target.  The blow from Shida knocked him down, bringing him to his knees and making him release Koharu.  Looking over his shoulder, he tried to swat at Shida with his Extendo-Arms, but the move was awkward and uncoordinated.  Koharu used the moment to escape, taking to the air again. She swung out with her legs, striking Shoji upside the head.  The blow wasn’t enough to put him down, but it did spin his head around.  He looked back and forth rapidly, now caught between her and Shida.

Shida dodged Shoji’s clumsy blows easily, her eyes and leg hairs giving her incredibly reaction time to his attack. She used her four back legs as a brace as she used them to hold herself in an almost standing position. She launched her remaining arms at Shoji, each attempting to strike at the arm joints of his extended arms. 

When it came to extra-appendages, Shoji was definitely unarmed by comparison to Shida.  Even as he’d been able to turn to face her, her spider-legs struck home, nailing him in each of his Extendo-Arms.  The silver-haired boy let out a cry of pain as his arms retracted, snapping back with a strange, stretching sound that was more than a little nauseating.  

He’d done a remarkable job of staying upright, but between the pain from Shida’s attack, the blow to the head, and the whiff of sleep powder he’d gotten earlier finally making its way through his system, Shoji went down, slowly sliding to his knees and then to the ground.

They’d done it!  Three hero students, and they’d managed to beat all of them!  She’d even managed to take out two!  Of course, Shida was also a Hero student, so that evened the playing field a little, but still!

“Let’s get the dummy,” Koharu said.  It should still be where they left it, next to Sora Iida.  She quickly glanced in that direction.  The other girl was asleep.  She must have gotten enough Sleep Powder too. Koharu stopped, her antennae moving rapidly.  There was something stirring up a lot of air. 

Anything Shida might have said was cut off as something swooped down and slammed into her.  Rough, clawed feet grabbed her shoulders and she felt herself being carried into the air.  It had to be Hizashi Koumori, the bat-like member of Class 1-B.

“Sorry, Kocho,” he said.  “Totally most heinous to do the sneak attack, I know, but we gotta win this one!”

Just before Koumori had grabbed her, Koharu had seen Shida briefly give herself a smile of triumph. That had abruptly ended when Koumori struck. Koharu could see Shida move on instinct to try and help, but she stopped, as though remembering what Koharu had told her. They needed to get the dummy. Shida cursed quietly before heading over to Sora to grab it. With any luck she’d be able to secure it and get back quick enough to help.

But Koharu couldn’t count on that.  She needed to do whatever she could to try and free herself.

It was the element of surprise that had let Koumori grab her.  He was bigger and stronger than her, to be sure, but all he had was his feet around her shoulders. Her wings were still free. And he wasn’t rocket-powered like the Iidas.  He was as dependent on muscle power and flapping for flight as she was, which meant his flight was a lot easier to disrupt.  She flared her own wings out, spreading them wide.  It attacked like an immediate drag chute, jerking Koumori back.

“Whoa!” he cried out.  Reflexively, he released his grip on her as he sailed back.  That was all she needed.  For just a moment Koharu let gravity grab hold, then flapped her own wings, diving back toward the ground.

Just as suddenly, however, she was hit by what felt like a solid wall of force that set her bones rattling and seemed to echo through her skull.  Flailing, she started falling again.  It was hard to think clearly, everything was spinning…

Clawed feet grabbed her again, this time grabbing her legs.  “Sorry about the sonar, dudette,” Koumori said.  He did sound genuinely apologetic.  She knew he was pretty mellow guy most of the time, though how mellow tended to change with how awake he was.  “I’ll have you down in a second.”

No!  She had to prove herself!  She couldn’t lose now!  “No,” she said, “I’m sorry… for this!” With his grip on her legs, she flapped her wings just once, giving herself just enough ot a push to swing upward, slamming both of her fists into his snout!  Koumori let out a cry of pain and released her again.  This time, she flapped and kept herself into the air, but hit him with a blast of String-Shot, pinning his arms--and more importantly, his wings--to his sides.  A pang of regret shot through her as he dropped like a stone.  Koumori was even bigger and heavier then Iida. There was no way she could keep him from falling…

Koumori, at least, was awake. He twisted in the air, trying to break free from her String-Shot, but hit the ground hard, letting out a soft moan, his eyes fluttering.  That looked like it had hurt.  Maybe she’d make it up to him back at U.A. with a fruit smoothie from her stash of exotic fruits.

Koharu landed next to him, bending down to make sure he was okay.  Kuomori was still breathing and it didn’t look like he had any major injuries.  Didn’t look like that had felt good, but it looked like he’d be fine.

It wasn’t the first time she’d had to hurt someone.  She’d sparred with friends and fought in the Sports Festival and trained against others here at the camp.

It didn’t mean it felt good.   Maybe Park had been onto something about children fighting like this…

Shida skittered to a stop next to her, the dummy safely in her hands. “That was amazing, Koharu! I came as quickly as I could, but it turns out you didn’t need it.” Skida smiled, but frowned slightly; she must have noticed the disturbed look on Koharu’s face. She frowned, all her eyes narrowing in concern. “Are you okay?” She didn’t specify if what troubled her was physical or mental, but there was something in her voice that suggested this wasn’t the first time she’d seen someone react like this. 

Koharu shook her head.   She had plenty of options that didn’t involve hurting people when it came to takedowns.  Maybe she could learn to focus on that.  But she’d have to fight anyway if she followed her dream and became a Hero.  But what did that mean for now?

Maybe those were questions for another day.

“Just thinking about something your friend said,” she told Shida.  “But c’mon.  We can talk about that later.  Let’s get this thing to the next marker.”

These were definitely questions that needed answers.  But for now, she’d faced one of the first major challenges of her Hero training and she’d come out on top.

For now, that was good enough.

#my hero academia #their hero academia #fan fiction #fan fic #shota shinso #koharu kocho #toshi midoriya #my writing

[thestupidhelmet]

How would you have written season four differently to help bridge the gap between Hyde and Jackie being friendsish to lovers in the span of a few months?

I did bridged the gap in season 4 (and 4.5) of @those70scomics, but if I’d been writing the show, Jackie and Hyde would’ve had definitive friendship-moments on the show that they both denied to themselves, each other, and everyone else.

For example, in “An Eric Forman Christmas” (412), Jackie stands beside Hyde and nods when he suggests wrapping Pastor Dave in gift wrap. This moment would be given more context by S4 episodes preceding and following it where we see definitive Jackie-and-Hyde have become secret friends moments. They’d have insider jokes, look at each other in basement scenes when they both think one of their friends is being an idiot, etc.

Ficlet below the cut.

One episode, Hyde might just “hang out” with Jackie as a friend when she’s working at the Cheese Palace. He’d claim it was to get free cheese, but they’d end up talking seriously anyway, same as Hyde and Donna did about certain subjects.

Hyde: So how’s workin’ for your weekly shoe allowance goin’ for ya? Jackie [annoyed]: I don’t spend all my money on shoes. Hyde: Yeah, you got a few new shirts, too. Jackie: You noticed? Hyde: ...No. But you don’t like wearin’ the same thing twice, and you’re not walkin’ around the basement naked, so I figured ... Jackie [slapping Hyde lightly on the shoulder]: Stop being such a pig. Hyde: Just stating the obvious. [Points to her forehead] You’re sweating. Jackie: Ugh! I wish you and Donna would stop pointing that out. Hyde: Hey, you chose this life, man. You could’ve had everything: your dad’s money, a sweat-free forehead. Instead, you chose to stick it out with Kelso ... [waves hand toward the Cheese Palace] and now you’ve got all this. Jackie: I love him. Hyde: And I love French fries, but I’m not about to work my ass off to get ‘em. Jackie: But you have a job. Hyde: And the more I sleep there, the more I earn. See, you’re doin’ this all wrong. If you’d kept listening to my advice, you’d be a lot happier. Jackie: Right. Like you’re so happy now, Steven. Hyde: I got no complaints. [Incredulous, Jackie raises her eyebrows at him.]

Hyde: Whatever. [Takes another piece of cheese off her sample plate.] Enjoy washin’ the cheese smell off you tonight.

Hyde leaves her to her work, but after this scene, Jackie’s determined to show Hyde he’s not all bliss and Zen as he claims to be. Donna question why she’s made this her goal.

Eric: Where have you been the last few years? She hates him and wants to make him miserable. Fez: I don’t know. ... Love sometimes looks like hate. Your father pretends to hate me, but I know deep down I’m his favorite of all your friends. Jackie [flustered]: I don’t love Steven. I don’t hate him, either. I just want to shut up his smug face. Donna: Whoa. Did you two get into, like a fight or something? Jackie: No. He just came by my job, ate some of my cheese-- Eric, Donna, and Fez: Oh, my God! Jackie: My cheese samples! Eric, Donna, Fez: Oh, my God! Jackie: Idiots. From my sample plate! Fez: Is your sample plate in your pants? Jackie: You’re disgusting. He ate a cube of Pepper Jack and-- Donna [laughing]: Don’t you mean Pepper Jackie? Jack [standing]: That’s it. You don’t deserve to know what happened -- or what will happen.

Jackie leaves the basement.

Eric: You guys, you don’t think Jackie and Hyde are ... Donna: No way. A) She’d never cheat on Kelso. B) She felt nothing for Hyde when they had this really hot kiss on Veteran’s Day last year-- Eric [disgusted] and Fez [upset]: They kissed? Donna: Yeah. With tongues. [Disturbed] She described it in detail. She was confused why she felt nothing for Hyde after thinking she was in love with him. She also said Hyde felt nothing for her, so whatever’s going on between them, it’s probably just typical Jackie-and-Hyde nonsense. Eric: But -- but they kissed. With tongues! That changes people. Fez: I kissed Jackie with tongues. It changed nothing between us. Eric [relieved]: Right. Okay. All is well. Donna: Except ... Eric: What? No except. I don’t want to hear an except. Donna: Fez tricked Jackie into that kiss. Jackie and Hyde kissed, like, mutually. Eric: A technicality. Donna: An important one, but I still don’t think anything gross is happening between them. They’re just friends. Eric [shudders]: That’s gross enough. Fez: Jackie and Hyde being friends is unnatural. Donna: And creepy. I can’t argue with that. I mean, she’s off to make Hyde miserable, so ... Eric: She won’t have to work hard to accomplish that. All she has to do is talk to him. Donna: You’re such an ass.

Donna leaves the basement.

Eric [to Fez]: What did I say? Fez: You insulted her best friend. Eric: I’m her best friend. Fez: No, you were her best friend before you gave her a promise ring, and then you two broke up. Eric: Oh. [Falls into silence.] Fez: Ai, Eric. I didn’t mean to make you miserable. Eric: You didn’t, buddy. I did that all on my own.

Basically, I’d make sure the latter half of season 3 and all of season 4 had significant Jackie-and-Hyde content, to develop their relationship (prepping for the romantic one in season 5) and each other as individuals.

#That 70s Show #That '70s Show #Jackie x Hyde #Jackie Burkhart #Eric Forman #Ask #Anon #My Essay #My Meta #Essay #Meta #Ficlet