#which is obviously totally fine. i’m glad to see my dash full of people being so excited though it’s awesome | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ttooccaa · 4 years

Text

The impeccable timing of everything - Chapter 5

5/5

And so it ends.

Rating: Teen

Ao3 link

Taos

December 22, 10:45 MST

Ed was teleporting all over the center and doing all the work that he could, which while not necessarily unusual was quite alarming considering the pace he was going at. He was buzzing with energy and that had the other teens who were currently lounging in the shared space interested in what exactly was going on with him.

Miriam leaned against the table like she was conspiring and asked “What’s up with Goldie?”

Wendy smirked “Heard that he finally got a day off to hang out with his boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Miriam blinked her black eyes at the group of teens.

Wayne who currently had the two fun sized speedsters staring intently at his hands spoke up “Yeah, you know, the one that goes really fast and constantly makes that one dumb pun.” He continued rubbing a shiny piece of plastic against a crystal created by Kole. The other ginger was also looking at him with interest in her eyes.

“Bart.” One of the twins clarified, a hint of excitement in his voice. The two of them have been picking up English quite steadily, especially with everybody else’s eagerness to teach them.

The Brazilian nodded and then pointed at Wayne blinking quizzically towards Kate, who for her part only rolled her eyes and made a face of utter defeat and annoyance. Miriam just sighed and started twirling a lock of her black hair between her fingers. She had seen the other speedster a couple of times around the Center, though never talked to him. She continued musing over the new found knowledge that he was the peer counselor’s boyfriend, until a sudden gold light caught her attention.

Ed appeared next to the group of teens and grinned “Glad to see you’re all getting along.” Wendy rolled her eyes endearingly. He smiled and continued talking “Just so you know I’ll be leaving soon and since Neut is in Detroit, no official peer counselor will be here, of course you can always text or call –“ he was cut off by Leslie “Yeah, yeah, we won’t get into any trouble, promise, cross my heart and all that.”

Ed rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless, a lot had happened over the last few weeks after Intergang was caught… on Earth that is. So many new metas had been rescued and almost all of them had no other place to go to but the Center, so a new one was planned to open up soon in Detroit. That, among many other things had eaten up all the time Ed had, so his promised date with Bart had been pushed back. He was glad he had all the others who had been part of the Center since it’s beginning, Neut had of course done everything he could, but again he was only one man. So both him and Ed were eternally grateful to Wendy, Leslie, Andy, Celia and many others who had stepped up and taken up some of their responsibilities. He smiled gently at the thought and relaxed a bit – ‘Yeah, I can totally trust them to handle every-‘

“Aha! And that is how you make a shiv out of a toothbrush!” Wayne proclaimed, holding up the sharp piece of plastic for the three gingers to inspect.

Ed sighed and raised an eyebrow, a pointed look directed towards Leslie. She just grinned and gave him a thumbs up. “At least pretend you’re going to be fine until Bart and I head out.” He said.

“Bart is coming?” Menos exclaimed happily, the twins had taken a natural liking to Bart, mostly because he was funny and his terrible spanish even more so. Mas was turning the toothbrush shiv around in his hands.

“Si, though only for a bit.” Ed explained while walking over to the twins and taking the diy weapon away.

“Hey! That took a long time to make.” Wayne exclaimed.

Eduardo just threw an unimpressed look his way which Wayne retaliated by rolling his eyes. The Argentinian pocketed the shiv deciding to deal with it later.

Kate piped up “So what do you have planned for today?” She slowly moved away from her seat and went over to Wayne. The teen was still sulking over his make shift weapon being taken away.

Ed blinked at her.

The blonde ruffled Wayne’s hair and started cooing at him as if he were a little child, his annoyance was steadily growing. Just as he was about to smack her she turned back towards Ed “Okay, you’re doing this on purpose. For your date obviously?” She clarified.

The Argentinian rubbed the back of his neck “Geez, does everybody know?”

They all gave him mumbles of agreement, except Wayne who was grumpily glaring at Kate who had thrown her arm around his shoulders “Don’t worry, champ, I’m going to get you the best plastic toothbrush money can buy!” Just as the black haired boy, was about to answer her with something that the kids around should definitely not be hearing, he was cut off by Ed.

“We’re going to hit up the Christmas market, walk around, the usual.” A small smile appeared on his face just from imagining it.

“Well doesn’t that sound just lovely, hope nothing goes wrong, ya know, as it usually does.” Kate smiled brightly at him, while Wayne was grumping something next to her.

‘Yeah, I hope so too.’ The young hero was just about to answer her, but she was too busy poking Wayne in the cheek, as he turned towards her, eyes red and murder clear in them, the distinctive crash of something heavy and metallic hitting the ground echoed. Everybody looked Wayne, who just raised his hands up. Ed audibly sighed and turned toward the noise, looking tired “What do you people have against the tables?! There are made of metal as to not be easier to destroy!” He mumbled and then teleported towards the commotion.

The other teens just shrugged and continued on.

Central City

December 22, 10:00 PST

Bart was at home with Jay, happy for a day off. After Intergang had been stopped, the League and all other heroes had been working hard on following up leads, investigating and saving metas both on Earth and in Space. Though the Green Lantern corps were mostly the ones handling Space, even after all this time some of the League’s members were still not welcome in some parts of the Galaxy.

Kid Flash was eating breakfast while scrolling on his phone, Jay was doing much the same, except he would occasionally move his phone closer or farther away from his face, squinting his eyes. When Bart was done he collected both his and Jay’s empty dishes and went to put them in dishwasher.

Jay put his phone and smiled “So, you and Ed are going out today?”

Bart grinned “Yeah, we finally got a day off! Totally crash”

The original Flash smiled gently “The life of a superhero is a busy one, full of uncertainties and changes that occur faster than you might think.”

Bart rolled his eyes endearingly at his guardian “Is that a gentle way of telling me to take my costume with me?”

The other Flash only smiled knowingly. The teen sighed, but complied non the less and quickly put the suit which had been compressed into a tiny square in the pocket of his red hoodie. “Hope I won’t need that today.”

“You and me both.”

“That sounds quite a lot like foreshadowing.” He looked at the clock “Anyways, I gotta go, see you later!”

“Have fun! Also bring the boy around for dinner sometime!”

“Will do!” Bart replied while putting on his jacket and dashing out of the back door, so fast that nobody would be able to see him. His excitement was growing with every mile.

Taos

December 22, 11:15 MST

Ed had just sorted out the situation with the table and was standing in an empty corridor, writing things down on his phone and reworking a schedule, when he heard the whoosh of the wind and felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist and a chin rest on top of his shoulder “Hi, babe.” Bart said right next to his ear.

“Hey.” Ed responded, putting his hands on top of Bart’s and leaning his head against the other teen’s. After a moment, the Argentinian turned around, putting his arms around Bart’s neck. The speedster smiled and leaned forwards gently kissing Ed. The kiss quickly deepened and after a bit, they separated and looked into each other’s eyes, the sappiness of the situation too much for both of them to handle, so they smiled and laughed.

Bart took Ed’s hand into his “Ready to go?”

The golden one squeezed his boyfriend’s hand “Just gonna check on the others one last time.”

The speedster became visibly excited “Oh, I haven’t seen everyone in forever, especially Mas and Menos! Hope they haven’t been feeling the mode without me around.” As busy as all the heroes had been Bart’s visits had become few and far in between, but enough for the twins to be utterly enamoured with the speedster.

The couple walked over to the shared space and as soon as Kid Flash was spotted by the twins he was immediately jumped by them, they were talking in super speed, which wouldn’t be a problem for him if it weren’t in Spanish. He literally exhausted all of his spanish vocabulary in those few seconds of conversation. Ed would probably never get used to that level of rushed talking but even he could see his boyfriend was starting to struggle a bit, so he turned towards the twins “Do you want to explain to Bart what Wayne showed you today?” The small gingers stopped their super fast talking, grinned at the idea and grabbed Bart by the hand, pulling him over to the other teens. Ed smiled at Bart stumbling behind them and also started walking after the trio of speedsters.

The twins were enthusiastically waving the crystal which Wayne had used for the shiv, in front of Bart’s face. With every new sentence their speech would get quicker and quicker, while Bart was grinning and looked genuinely interested in what the kids were showing him. The other teens also greeted him. Ed smiled and put his hands on hips looking at the endearing picture.

Miriam looked Bart over, then turned her gaze towards Ed and noticed how absolutely whipped the peer counselor looked, she then decided that they were a good match and smiled to herself. She did think though that it was quite peculiar that there were so many speedsters, actually wasn’t the one in the Outsiders close to their age, he also had brown hair very similar to Bart’s… maybe she shouldn’t dwell too much on it. It seemed that faked ignorance was preferred in this situation.

During all of that Ed was talking with Leslie, Andy and Wendy, making sure they had everything under control and to call if anything, anything, happened. The three girls just laughed and told him to relax, it’s not like they were completely left to their own devices, what will all the staff around. Ed teleported to get his jacket. Afterwards Bart said his goodbyes to the twins by hugging them and waved to the rest of the group. Eduardo did the same, but also ruffled Wayne’s hair. Before the other could protest Ed took Bart’s hand and they teleported away.

Taos

December 22, 12:17 MST

The two young superheroes appeared a bit farther away from the Christmas Market, in a small alley. They didn’t want to draw too much attention on themselves, though the chance of Ed not being recognized at all was small. Not having that much of a private life is a price all superheroes without secret identities had to pay. Nonetheless the boys’ excitement overshadowed any kind of stress they might have. Unlike a lot of couples the two of them weren’t particularly nervous about their first date, it’ll be a lot like hanging out except with more handholding and kissing.

They walked over to the entrance of the market, a huge wooden arc with mistletoe and all types of Christmas decoration hanging from it. As soon as the speedster saw the mistletoe he quickly kissed Ed on the mouth, before the other could even realize what was going on. The Argentinian just smiled and blushed slightly, gripping Bart’s hand tighter. The market was outside and made up of a ton of little booths decked out in anything Christmas and Winter related. There were stands with traditional foods from all over the world, Bart definitely wanted to try all of them. There were also ones with Christmas themed carnival games or ones selling handmade decorations. There were also people showing off different crafts.

The two of them just started walking around, looking over the many stalls. Ed felt Bart’s hand slightly buzzing in his, like he was holding himself back from running around at super speed and checking everything out. They first stoped for Bart to get something to eat, he got a grilled potato with a generous amount of butter on top of it. Ed just opted for some hot chocolate.

Afterwards they stopped at a carnival game and Bart burst out laughing while grabbing his phone to snap a picture of an action figure. Ed leaned to look at his phone, then promptly snorted after seeing the ugly bootleg, almost melting off face of what was apparently supposed to be Garfield’s character from “Space Trek 3016”. Though everything about the figurine was wrong, including Beast boy’s skin which was a bright pink. It was then that both boys knew that they needed to have this thing. Ed and Bart looked each other in the eyes determination clear.

The Argentinian grinned and indicated for the bored looking teen working there that they were going to play. He paid her and received some blunt darts with which to pop the colourful balloons. He handed Bart two of his four and they both took aim. Ed managed pop one balloon and so did Bart, but it was enough for the ugly piece of plastic, which was quickly pocketed by the shorter teen. “Gar is going to love this little guy!” Bart announced, patting his jacket’s pocket protectively.

“Well make sure the little guy is safe and comfortable in there, wouldn’t want him to be scratched for BB.” Ed grinned while nudging his boyfriend.

Bart looked offended “Excuse me, are you telling me how to raise my child?”

“Your child? From what I remember I paid for him.” The teleporter crossed his arms over his chest, feigning being offended.

“Oh! Well then, I guess I’ll see you in court!” Bart declared, a sour expression on his face. They started at each both looking annoyed with one other, until they laughed.

They continued walking until Ed saw a trash can in which to throw away the plastic cup from his hot chocolate. After he came back Bart took his hand once again. They walked around the market, the two teens were looking at a particularly delicate sculpture of a deer made from glass, when a few people approached them “Excuse me!” A particularly confident girl said, slightly spooking both of them, making Ed almost drop the deer. He quickly put it back on the shelf and both him and Bart sighed in relief. They turned around, with Bart speaking first “Yes?”

The group that had approached them was made up of two girls and three boys, all of them were silent, until the girl who had spoken earlier said “It really is you!” She pointed at Ed. He blinked at her and awkwardly raised his arm in a wave “Uh, yeah?” Bart couldn’t help but find his awkwardness endearing.

“El Dorado!” One of the guys exclaimed. Ed just continued staring at them and they at him. While he wasn’t bad at talking with strangers or talking in general, something about meeting people who would actually call themselves his fans always made him really uncomfortable, he didn’t feel like he’d done anything particularly deserving of them.

Bart nudged him and he spoke up “Can I help you with anything?”

The girl from earlier grinned “Can we get a pic together?”

Ed looked at Bart who just shrugged “Yeah, of course, no problem.”

“Awesome!”

Bart offered to take the picture, Ed was in the middle of the group of friends all of them smiling brightly. Afterwards they chatted a bit more, Bart also joined in on the conversation, all of the awkwardness melting away. The Argentinian only asked that they don’t upload the photo right away, he didn’t want to risk making a scene, if people decided to show up just because he was there. The other teens understood and with that they said their goodbyes.

When the group of fans was out of earshot, Ed sighed “Well that went way better than expected.”

“I still can’t believe that you can have full speeches at the Center, but get so tongue tied just because of a few fans.” Bart said.

“Well, I am getting better at it, also sorry that having fans is still such a crazy concept to me.” Ed defended.

The speedster laughed “I don’t see why, you’re pretty dang crash, amigo.”

Ed raised an eyebrow, smiling “Just “amigo”?”

The speedster rolled his eyes at his boyfriend and quickly kissed him “You know what I mean.”

Ed smiled softly, looking into Bart’s green eyes “Hey, want to get some churros?”

“Do I want to get some churros? What sort of a question is this? Of course, I want churros!” Bart exclaimed.

They walked over to a stand and Bart bought churros, afterwards they leaned against the back of a bench and looked up at the grey sky, the sun was high in the sky, but was covered by clouds, so it couldn’t be seen. They ate the sweet treat, just enjoying each other’s company. Ed piped up after bit “Today has honestly been amazing.”

“Has?” Bart teased.

“You know what I mean.”

Just as they were slowly leaning in, closer and closer to each other, letting their combined heath keep them warm both of their cellphones rung, it was the special ring that indicated that it was something that has to do with either the Outsiders, the Team or the League. Both of them quickly answered, though as much as they didn’t want to admit it out loud, they hoped it was something unimportant, like Canary had punched the coffee machine and they needed a new one. Of course, it was never things like that, but one could hope.

Garfield’s voice greeted them from the other side “Calling everybody, an extraterrestrial being that has been suspected of trading meta-humans will be crash landing in the desserts near Taos, I will send the exact coordinates-“ Bart and Ed made eye contact and Bart sighed deeply “God, I hate it when Jay is right.” He put on his superhero suit before anybody was even aware of what was going on, his civilian clothes hidden someplace safe. There were a few people already staring at them, a small group forming around the two heroes. They were too focused on the mission to notice them.

Both of them put on their earpieces used for missions and responded to Beast boy, Ed started talking “Kid Flash and I are closest, we will be heading there right now.”

The young heroes looked at the coordinates “Super speed or teleportation?” Bart asked.

Ed thought for a second, while he didn’t need to see where he was going in order to teleport there, not anymore that is, his powers worked best, when he had either already been there or had somebody he knew be at that place right now, to use as something of an anchor. “Super speed.” He decided.

Bart grinned and before Ed knew it, he was being princess carried towards the soon-to-be crash site.

Taos

December 22, 18:53 MST

They arrived within seconds, just in time to see the ship crash loudly into the dessert. “We’re on sight, the target has just crash landed.” Ed informed.

Garfield responded “Me and the other Outsiders will be joining you shortly, restrain him if possible.”

“Got it.”

After a moment Barbara’s voice was heard from the earpiece “The alien is known as Manga Khan, he is a dealer, basically in intergalactic broker that specialises in anything valuable –“

“Including meta-humans?” Bart asked. Him and Ed were moving slowly towards the crashed ship, nothing had happened yet. The only thing coming out of it was smoke, but other than that it looked fine.

“Yes, he was being investigated by the Green Lanterns, after evidence was found that he had dealt meta-humans, he tried to flee, but was chased and eventually forced to land here.” Oracle explained.

Just as she said that rapid fire shot out of a side of the ship, almost aimed at Bart and Ed, though it was haphazardly. Ed teleported away and Bart ran between shots, eventually the metal piece collapsed due to the many holes it had. From the inside a human looking, metallic suit with a golden shine could be seen. The man was holding a huge gun, it looked like the weapons Intergang had used. He was shooting without a rhyme or reason just generally trying to get the two always moving superheroes. The shots were so many and so sporadic that even Bart had a hard time getting close to him. The next moment he was next to Ed, they were both hiding behind a sand dune. “Okay, this is not working out.” Bart was clearly annoyed.

“He will run out of shots right?” Ed suggested, they both poked their heads from behind the dune, only to be met with a bunch of laser shots, they quickly ducked back. “Or not…”

Bart put his hand around his chin, as if in deep thought “If we brake the gun, we will have enough time to capture him.”

“We could use that metal rope or whatever it is.” Ed pointed towards the long, but sturdy looking piece of metal right behind the metal alien. One problem solved, but there was still the other one, they had to somehow brake or get rid of the gun.

El Dorado put his hands down, when he felt it in his pocket, Wayne’s shiv. He got it out and held it up right in Bart’s face. Immediately Kid Flash knew what he was getting at, he grabbed the shiv and once again ran into the line of fire. He started moving so fast that everything around him became slow, but even then weaving around all the lasers was a challenge, but he managed it just to get close enough so that he would get a clear throw at the gun. He threw the shiv and the sharp plastic hit bullseye. They were back in regular speed and the alien technology was shaking and smoke was coming out of it. Manga Khan quickly threw it to the side and it exploded. A second later El Dorado was behind him, weaving the cord around his upper torso and arms. The alien was quickly restrained and he just gave up. The rest of the heroes were informed of what had transpired.

“You know, maybe shivs should start coming with the costume.” Bart mused, both of them standing next to the extraterrestrial, looking at him.

Ed leaned against him “Who knew they could be so useful…”

“Wayne.”

“I think he was just trying to be a bad influence.” Eduardo grinned.

After he said that all the other Outsiders arrived with Bio-Ship, Green Lantern also came.

Hal Jordan smiled at the two heroes “Good work.”

“No problem.” Bart grinned, glowing with pride, Ed just smiled.

Garfield also congratulated them, honestly to Ed it felt like much ado about nothing, but he wasn’t going to complain. The alien was quickly taken in by Green Lantern where he would be questioned. Also more Green Lanterns arrived to deal with the alien ship and whatever damage it had done.

All of the Outsiders got into Bio-Ship and set a course for their base in Hollywood, though not without Bart quickly getting his civilian clothes back.

Hollywood

December 22, 18:35 PDT

As they arrived all of them sat down on the big sofa in the center of their base. Ed leaned against Bart, who threw his arm around his shoulders.

“Sorry about your date, guys.” Jaime said.

Both of them shrugged “Eh, most of it was perfectly fine, honestly I wasn’t particularly surprised when we got the call about the alien.” Ed said, loosely holding Bart’s hand.

Kid Flash, now in regular clothes, raised his pointer finger “The life of a superhero is a busy one, full of uncertainties and changes that occur faster than you might think, sonny!” He said sternly.

Jaime laughed “When has the OG Flash ever said “sonny”?”

“Excuse me, do you or do I live with him?”

They all chuckled at Bart and Jaime’s usual play arguments.

Suddenly Ed remembered something and teleported away, next to where Bart had thrown his jacket over one of the chairs. He teleported back, Bart was already grinning “Don’t think that even for a second we forgot about our favourite leader!” The Argentinian said, also grinning.

Garfield raised an eyebrow.

“Here, this is just a small token of our appreciation for our fearsome leader.” Ed placed the pink action figure in Beast Boy’s hand. All of the Outsiders went to see what had just happened. Cassie was the first one to react by snorting loudly “Oh my god, this is beautiful.”

“Hey!” Beast boy tried to sound annoyed, but was also smiling due to the sheer ugliness of the toy.

“I don’t know man. I think they’ve got you spot on.” Virgil commented, dangling the small figure from it's arm.

Jaime also joined in “I never would’ve guessed that pink was your colour!”

Garfield quickly snatched the figurine back “Har, har, at least I even have action figures for people to bootleg!”

Ed was back on the same place on the couch, leaning against Bart. They were both laughing at their team’s antics, when Victor who had previously been quiet, spoke up “Well, looks like the two of you had a dandy ol’ time on your date!” The smirk evident in his voice.

“Dandy ol’ time?” Virgil questioned.

Victor just shrugged and broadcasted a picture on the big screen right in front of the sofa, a mixture of awws and laughs was heard from the team, while Ed and Bart just blushed bright red.

The photo was taken just as they were about to head out and deal with the alien, Ed was in Kid Flash’s arms in a princess carry with Bart grinning wide and Ed looking surprised. It was posted from one of those trashy news magazines with the tag line “A new ship rising? Blink and you’ll miss ‘em! #toofast #ElDoradoxKidFlash”

Ed and Bart looked each other in the eyes, both of them with unreadable expressions, but then they just laughed.

All in all a pretty good day in the life of two teenage superheroes.

#bartuardo #zetaflash #bart allen #eduardo dorado jr #el dorado young justice

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amethystunarmed · 4 years

Text

A Story About Monsters

Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou; Minor Asui Tsuyu/Uraraka Ochako

Word Count: 6849

AO3 Link

My piece for the @krbkbigbang! Wonderful art for this fic was done by @writerdragon!

Bakugou was sent out of the palace to find a monster and stay out of the way of peace negotiations. Instead, he finds a lost prince, and the key to his kingdom’s safety. That is, if curses, bandits, and swamp witches don’t stop him first.

~~~~

To say Bakugou was pissed would be an understatement. Even the mere thought of his conversation with Aizawa had him grinding his teeth. “Stupid fucking Deku,” Bakugou muttered as he tugged his cape from a thorn bush, “Gets to stay in the castle and babysit a fucking prince and I’m out here chasing a fairytale.” Or a monster, apparently. That’s what the townspeople had called it when he had asked around. A great winged creature appeared above the forest. Pleas for aid had been coming into the castle for weeks now, but Bakugou wasn’t stupid. He would have needed to be to not notice the fact Aizawa sent him out only three days before the arrival of King Enji and the rest of the party from Endeavor.

“You’re trying to get rid of me!” Bakugou had shouted. Magic had sparked at his fingers, until Aizawa leveled red eyes at him.

“This is a serious mission, but I will not deny that diplomacy isn’t your strong suit.”

“Fucking show you a strong suit, dammit!” He angrily slung an explosion at the brush in front of him.

“So, you’re the one who’s been causing all of those explosions, huh?”

Bakugou looked up and realized he’d entered a clearing. Now that he was beyond the tree line, he could see an ivy covered tower, seeming impossibly tall to be constructed this far from town. The grass nearby had been converted into a massive garden, which was currently being tended by a guy tall enough that Bakugou would have to look up at him..

He was leaning on a hoe, absolutely drenched in sweat from the work. His shocking red hair was pulled back with a bandana, and dirt coated his hands. A smear of it rested across his cheekbone, like he had tried to wipe his sweat away.

He was smiling at Bakugou like he was the greatest thing he’d ever seen.

“Some of us live out here, ya know?” he continued, teasing like his presence here made any fucking sense.

He wasn’t wearing a shirt, meaning Bakugou had full view of his biceps and pecs and abs and fuck—

“It’s magic, moron,” Bakugou growled. He clenched his fist shut and the few fires left from his explosion died. “I’m not gonna start a forest fire.”

“Glad you have a plan. You don’t have a wagon, so I don’t think you’re here for me—“

“The fuck does that–?“

“—so what brings you all the way out here?”

Bakugou huffed. “Some people reported seeing a ‘monster’ in these woods. Heard anything about that?”

The other man’s smile faltered. His eyes widened in what looked like panic.

“Nah, haven’t seen anything like that out here… You sure you’re in the right forest?”

Bakugou had pretty good intuition, but didn’t need it to know this guy was full of shit. He cracked his knuckles, and when he rested his hands down, he rested his palm against the hilt of his sword.

“Uh-huh… You gotta a name?” Bakugou asked. The guy bit his lip.

“I’m Eijirou…” That name rang a bell in Bakugou’s head, but he shoved it away for now.

“Eijirou, you gonna tell me why you’re lying to me?”

Eijirou sucked in a breath.

“Well, you see,” he began.

And promptly dashed for the door.

“Oh no you don’t!” Bakugou yelled, and dashed after him.

~~~

The last thing Bakugou expected to find when he broke down the door were the luxurious furnishings that decorated the house. Velvet curtains hung over the windows, plush blue cushions adorned every seat and couch. He was pretty sure the vase on the table was actual porcelain.

“Dude! Do you have any idea how hard that is gonna be to fix?” Eijirou whined, but Bakugou ignored him. He tackled Eijirou to the ground, and held a sparking hand over him. Eijirou’s chest rumbled under him as he groaned. He glared at Bakugou and for a moment, Bakugou swore–

But Eijirou slumped down, totally normal.

“What’s this about?”

“Did you steal this stuff?” Bakugou held tighter to his throat.

“What? No! It’s mine!”

“I’m supposed to believe that some fucking farmer has a claw footed sofa?”

“Uh… it’s a family heirloom?”

“How’d you even get this tower, huh? Why did no one in town mention you either, despite pointing me in the perfect direction to find you?”

“You don’t understand–“

“Make a nice hideout for yourself and then spread a rumor to keep people away?” He slammed Kirishima against the ground. “I’m taking you back to Yuuei–“

��Kirishima!” He shouted, and shoved Bakugou off of him so quickly, the world blurred. Bakugou skidded to the side, too shocked to retaliate.

“What’d you say?”

“Kirishima,” Eijirou panted, and now Bakugou remembered why that name seemed so familiar. “Eijirou Kirishima. I’m a prince of Riot.”

Bakugou scowled. “That’s a legend. The prince is dead.”

“I can prove it!” Kirishima insisted, and scrambled over to a nearby desk. He rifled through the top drawer, spilling yellowed parchment without a care. With a relieved gasp, Kirishima pulled forth a small silver object, and held it out for Bakugou to gaze upon. Bakugou sharply inhaled. It was a signet ring, with the image of a crown inside a gear, with two touching fists below it. The symbol of the crown prince, supposedly buried with the ill-fated firstborn.

Bakugou grit his teeth and steadied his voice.

“How?”

“What do you-”

“How are you here? How are you alive?”

Kirishima stared at the floor.

“I... I wasn’t fit to be a prince,” he said, “So... I was sent to live out here.”

“That’s messed up,”Bakugou said before he could stop himself, and Kirishima’s eyes widened. He stuck his hands out, waving them as if to ward off Bakugou’s assumption.

“No, no, they took care of me! They sent nannies to look after me until I was old enough to care for myself, and sent supplies every month! They didn’t just abandon me out here!”

“Until you were... How old were you?”

Kirishima tapped his chin and thought for a moment. “I must have been... five or six, I think?”

What the actual fuck. What the hell could a five year old have done to lose the rights to a crown? Why would parents just abandon their child? Why is he defending them?

Bakugou’s head pounded with questions, each drilling into his brain like a flock of woodpeckers. He blurted out the first one he could manage to piece together.

“So you’ve just... stayed here?”

Kirishima’s shoulders hunched. He tightened his arms around himself.

“Why would I leave?” He mumbled to the floor. “They sent me everything I needed, until I was fine on my own.”

Bakugou looked around, at the fine furniture, scuffed and scratched with overuse. At the pants Kirishima wore, shoddily patched with too big stitches, only reaching his mid-shin. At the dirt and sweat coating him, from growing his own food outside.

And Bakugou realized what had happened.

“The supplies stopped coming.”

Kirishima bit his lip.

“They know I can take care of myself.”

A second realization hit Bakugou.

“You don’t know.”

Finally, Kirishima looked up at him. He cocked his head to the side, gazing at Bakugou in honest confusion.

“Know what?”

The reason the Endeaven Royalty was visiting Yuuei. The reason King Todoroki and All Might Yagi were locked in fierce debate. The reason the balance of the kingdoms was at risk.

Bakugou took a deep breath.

“The Riot kingdom fell a little more than eight years ago. The royal family is dead.”

Kirishima stumbled, and fell to one knee.

“They... They’re dead?”

Somewhere in the back of Bakugou’s brain, he realized he was talking to a king. He took to one knee and clamped a hand over his chest. He bowed his head.

“I’m sorry for your loss, your Majesty.”

Hands clamped around his shoulders and pulled him to his feet.

“Don’t- Don’t do that,” Kirishima stammered, “I’m... I’m not...”

“A king?”

Kirishima let out a high pitched squeal that might have been a laugh.

“I’m barely even a prince!” He knotted his fingers in his hair and tugged at it. “I can’t- I’m not-” His eyes leveled with Bakugou. “What happened?”

“Have you heard of the sorcerer All for One?”

Kirishima frowned. “Isn’t he just a myth?”

“And the prince who lives in the tower in the woods isn’t?”

Kirishima’s nose crinkled, but he didn’t interrupt again.

“He sent his successor, Shigaraki, into the very heart of Riot. It was a massacre.” Kirishima flinched, and Bakugou felt a twinge of something in his stomach. He ignored it. “For nearly a decade, he and his band ruled the land, terrorizing anyone who tried to stop him. Until All Might Yagi and King Todoroki defeated him. Now of course they’re fighting over the rights to the kingdom.” Bakugou scoffed. “That’s where I would be if I wasn’t busy chasing fairytales.”

“Wait, one of the other kingdoms is just... taking over?” Kirishima said.

“Obviously,” Bakugou snorted. “It’s not like the Kirishima family can...” He paused and gazed at Kirishima intently. Kirishima’s eyes widened.

“No–” He tried to step backwards, but Bakugou snatched his wrist. He cackled.

“Bad at diplomacy my ass! I’m about to stop the biggest war in Yuuei’s history!”

Kirishima shook his head and tugged at Bakugou’s hold. “Dude, let go of me. I mean it. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Psh, like you could. Now come on.”

Bakugou tried to pull Kirishima forward, and the world inverted.

Bakugou gasped as the flip slammed him into the floor. He hadn’t prepared himself to take the hit and he was paying for it now. Kirishima stood over him, already back in a fighting stance. He grinned sheepishly.

“Sorry man,” he chuckled, “That wasn’t very manly of me.”

“I’ll get you back to the castle if I have to drag you there myself!” Bakugou spat, and launched himself to his feet. Kirishima took a breath of hesitation, and Bakugou tackled him to the floor.

It was an ugly fight. Even though Bakugou couldn’t use his magic in such close quarters, he was prepared for an easy fight. One lucky shot at the beginning didn’t mean anything. Yet Bakugou quickly found himself pulling out every trick he knew. Kirishima was clearly untrained, but strong and desperate. He clawed and bit without shame, anything to shake Bakugou’s superior training. More than once, Bakugou found himself face down in the dirt, having to quickly roll out of the way an incoming punch. He managed to get Kirishima out of the house, but he refused to move further than beyond the boundaries of his garden. He tiptoed around the areas with intricate care, like he was afraid of getting too far from the tower. It was distracting him.

The fight had been a long one, and Bakugou could tell Kirishima was losing steam. All he needed was one mistake and– there. Bakugou reached forward and grabbed Kirishima’s vest. He tugged Kirishima forward, intent on getting him in a headlock. He was prepared for surprise, for the movement to catch Kirishima off guard. What he didn’t expect was for Kirishima to completely go limp in his hold. Bakugou’s knees buckled and the two of them dropped.

They slammed against the ground, and before Bakugou could react, Kirishima flipped him on his back.

“Why do you want me to go with you?”

“What the hell?” Bakugou sneered.

“Tell me!” Kirishima was glaring directly at him. He was still lying on top of Bakugou, hands firmly pinning Bakugou to the ground. Bakugou’s face felt hot, from more than just the exertion of the fight.

“Because I’m gonna be the hero of the kingdom and show Aizawa what a mistake it was to try and get rid of me!” He snarled, desperately trying to break free of Kirishima’s hold.

“The real reason,” he insisted. It was a statement, no doubt in his voice.

“That is the reason!”

“Give me a reason to trust you, or I swear on the whole pantheon of Gods, I will lock myself in that tower and you will never get me out.” Bakugou could feel Kirishima panting. The force behind his words pressed their chests together. He tried to shove him away. Kirishima only glared.

“Fuck,” Bakugou sighed, “Okay, listen. King Enji is a warmongering tyrant. With Riot’s resources, he’d have enough power to conquer Yuuei, and any other kingdom he wants. And Yuuei is too far from Riot to properly protect it. Endeavor would just take it over anyway, or, worse, All for One may return. You coming back and taking the throne? That’s the only chance of this whole disaster not ending in bloodshed, alright?” He turned his head to the side and stared at the trees. “Happy?”

Kirshima hummed, and thought it over. He then beamed up at Bakugou, so bright he felt blinded.

And so Bakugou gained a travel companion.

~~~

Honestly, traveling with Kirishima wasn’t that bad. Bakugou had kept a close eye on him at first. He couldn’t understand the sudden change in attitude, the way he went limp into Bakugou’s hold after they fell beyond the tree line. Despite being a hermit, Kirishima was dense with muscle and (though Bakugou would never tell him this) that fight was one of the closest matches he had in awhile. If Kirishima had really wanted to run, Bakugou wasn’t certain he could have stopped him without knocking him out.

And Aizawa would actually kill him if he learned Bakugou assaulted a prince.

But Kirishima never tried to run, despite his earlier protests. He merely trailed behind Bakugou, quietly at first, but becoming chattier as the day went on. At first, he paused after sentences, giving Bakugou space to respond. After Bakugou’s fifth uninterested grunt though, he seemed to take the hint, and talked more at the forest then at Bakugou. He commented on Bakugou’s fighting skills, talked about how manly Bakugou’s moves were. He babbled on about the training regimen he’d created for himself at his tower, the equipment he’d created for himself (which Bakugou honestly was a little disappointed that he hadn’t been able to see.) At one point, he stopped in his tracks, and gasped at the site of a fawn lying in a glen. He’d slapped Bakugou’s arm so hard, Bakugou instinctively flipped him and pinned him to the ground. Even then, the dopey smile never left his face.

That’s not to say Kirishima wasn’t weird as hell. The dude was twitchy as fuck. Bakugou initially assumed he just wasn’t used to being in open spaces after being locked up in that tower, but there was more to it than that. Kirishima jumped at every snapped branch, followed every bird that circled overhead with his eyes. At one point, a squirrel dashed across the path in front of them, and Kirishima lunged at it with his staff. He bared his teeth, and the look in his eyes went distant. Bakugou was pretty sure he saw him run his tongue over his canines.

“Shitty hair,” Bakugou grunted. He knew better than to touch someone with that look in their eyes. “It’s a squirrel.”

The rigidity melted from Kirishima’s posture, and Bakugou bit back a chuckle at the sight of his blush. He ducked his head.

“Right, sorry. I just...” He trailed off.

“I don’t care.” Bakugou hadn’t meant the words as a comfort. They were just true. But from the way Kirishima smiled at him, Bakugou may as well have hung the sun. The sight made something twist in Bakugou’s stomach.

So yeah. All in all, he wasn’t a bad travel companion. Gods know he was leagues better than Deku. And... there was something familiar in the way he carried himself, in the way his eyes snapped to sharp movement in the brush. Bakugou had seen it in his comrades on the battlefield, had seen it on the face of a little girl found in the remains of a burned out village. He’d even seen it in the mirror some nights, when memories screamed too loud to even consider sleep. There was a comfort in being with someone who saw the world the same way as you.

He supposes that’s why he fucked up. Why he forgot Kirishima wasn’t a disciplined soldier. Why, after a week of traveling together, he had no qualms letting Kirishima take first watch. Why he let himself slip into a deep sleep instead of a light snooze.

Then again, the whys didn’t matter. It was still his fuck up.

~~~

Bakugou grunted awake when someone kicked his side. “Fuck, shitty hair, just wake me like a normal person,” he mumbled. He blinked his eyes open, and his first thought was that it was darker than it should be. The fire was low, nearly down to embers, casting the world in a hazy red undertone. Bakugou figures that’s why it took him a moment to realize Kirishima wasn’t the person standing over him.

The blade at his throat was a pretty good indicator though.

The guy was clothed in all dark colors and kept his face halfway hidden by a scarf. Basically the most stereotypical stickup outfit Bakugou’d ever seen. He opened his mouth, mainly to call this guy a fucking jackass and hopefully warn Kirishima, but the blade pressed closer to his throat. Bakugou hissed as he felt it pierce the skin.

“Ah, ah, ah,” his captor chuckled, “No yelling. Unless you want to get your friend involved?”

Bakugou looked over and was suddenly grateful for this darkness. He didn’t want this asshole to see him pale. But he couldn’t deny the flash of fear in his chest as he saw the other bandit with Kirishima in a headlock, knife at his jugular.

Goddammit Shitty Hair.

Bakugou sighed. “I’d fucking kill for a decent squire.” Kirishima squinted at him, and Bakugou was grateful neither of the bandits were facing him. Never let this idiot play poker, Bakugou noted.

“Aw... they can’t find a worthy apprentice for the great Katsuki Bakugou.”

Shit.

Today just keeps getting better and better.

“You morons know who I am.” Bakugou grinned, baring his lips to show all of his teeth, and the man above him flinched. “Good. That means you know what a mistake this is.” He cackled as he channeled the magic from the air around him. Pins and needles snaked down his arm as the glowing orange warmth of his power pooled in his hands. The ground sizzled beneath his palms.

“H-hey,” the bandit protested, and Bakugou relished in the way his voice cracked. “I think you’re forgetting the position you’re in.”

“Nah,” he scoffed, “I just know I could blast a hole through your rib cage before you could even think about slitting my throat.”

“But, could you stop my partner before he killed your squire?”

Bakugou growled. He hadn’t thought of that. The kingdom needed Kirishima. All Might needed Kirishima.

(His stomach rolled at the thought of a gash through Kirishima’s throat, blood bubbling out like a lazy fountain–)

Against his screaming instincts, Bakugou let his magic drift away.

“Wait, Bakugou–” Kirishima cut off with a grunt as his captor elbowed his stomach.

“Hey, what the hell?” Bakugou said, and the bandit standing over him rolled his eyes.

“Don’t worry, we won’t kill him,” the man assured him. “After all, someone needs to tell the tale of how the Dusk Bandits slayed one of Yuuei’s legendary guards.”

Bakugou’s last thought as the sword rose above him was I can’t believe I’m gonna be killed by fucking edgy wannabes.

(I’m sorry Deku... Wish I had told you that sooner.)

Next to him was a roar and a horrible shattering. Bakugou’s eyes snapped to the right, just in time for him to roll out of the way as the man who’d been holding Kirishima launched into his partner. The two crumpled to the ground in a disarray of smashing limbs and Bakugou heard at least one wrist snap.

“What the hell–” Bakugou turned to face the new threat, instinctively reaching for the sword already taken off him by the bandit. His jaw dropped as he beheld the creature before him.

He was enormous. Red leathery wings stretched over the camp in a ten foot wingspan. Foot long horns, so dark they were nearly invisible against the night sky, arched over his head. Scales ran down the sides of his neck and arms, coating his hands. They stretched into long hooked claws at the ends of his fingers. In the light of the dying fire, they glittered like blood. His teeth were fangs, not his canines, his teeth, every single one of them. He roared again, so loud Bakugou couldn’t help but cover his ears. His jaw unhinged a little too far, revealing serrated molars all the way to the corner of his jaw. And his eyes... they glowed yellow with reflected moonlight, slitted pupils paper thin with rage.

Bakugou’s breath left his lungs.

Kirishima was breathtaking.

And a dragon, apparently.

“Actually, you know what?” one of the men behind Bakugou squeaked. “Fuck this. That guy’s a dragon.” He heard scrambling and clanking as they scampered away into the woods.

Normally Bakugou would have chased after them, made them pay for daring to think they could best him, but he had more pressing things to deal with. Given the way Kirishima ducked his head, his rage read on his face. The fierce posture from before was long gone. He nervously fiddled with his own tail. His massive wingspan curled in close around his body, as if to make him smaller. His pupils dilated back to normal, and he looked like a kicked puppy.

“Look,” Kirishima muttered, “I know this looks bad, but–”

“You went easy on me!” Bakugou snarled.

“What?”

Bakugou readied himself into a fighting stance. “Fight me! Right now!”

“No! I could hurt you!”

“Please, you think my magic can’t take yours? I’m the best sorcerer in the all the-“

“It’s not my magic!”

Kirishima’s chest heaved. He hunched over, curling in his chest. He clamped his claws closed.

“It’s a curse,” he whispered, barely audible above the forest ambiance. “I... I’m a monster.”

Bakugou really couldn’t help it.

He snorted.

“No, you’re fucking not.”

“I am,” Kirishima insisted, nearly pouting.

“Look, I know monsters,” Bakugou said, and looked Kirishima up and down. “You ain’t it. Just ‘cuz you grow scales when you harness your magic, doesn’t mean-”

“It’s a curse.”

“You keep saying that,” Bakugou huffed, “but that doesn’t mean anything! Besides, who would–” He managed to stop himself before saying curse you, but he still considered it a fair point. He doubted Kirishima could go through a village and leave without charming every damn inhabitant.

“It’s a punishment,” Kirishima continued. He stared down at his hands and fiddled with his claws. “Years ago, one of the members of the Riot royal family killed a dragon for sport. Little did they know, the dragon was a young mother, and her babies were left to starve. The goddess Ryukuku was angered by this needless bloodshed, and cursed my bloodline. Once a generation, a Kirishima is born with a monstrous form, hideous to all those who look upon it.” He plucked a scale from his arm with a wince and offered it to Bakugou. “With crimson scales, red as blood, to remind us of our violent folly.”

Bakugou took the scale. It was heavier than he expected, and surprisingly warm. The dimming firelight shone through it, and cloaked his hand in red light. Hideous my ass, he thought.

“So... you can take me back to the tower now.” Kirishima said this with a completely straight face, like he was speaking some known truth into the universe.

“Heh?” Bakugou scoffed.

“I can’t become king, you have no reason to continue with me.”

“How does having badass dragon powers make you a worse king? If anything, it means you're destined for it or some shit!”

“Every Kirishima who ever was born with the affliction was sent away!” Kirishima barked back at him. There was a growl rattling in his chest as he stood and stalked toward Bakugou. “My family would have preferred their extinction to a Cursed taking the throne!”

“So you just wanna get rid of the curse?” Bakugou asked, “Fuck, why didn’t you say that?”

All at once, Kirishima’s eyes rounded into inquisitive pupils, and his tail flicked with interest. “You... You can do that?” He asked, quietly, as though speaking too loud would destroy its possibility.

“Psh, ‘course not.” Bakugou snorted, “But I know a witch who can.”

~~~

The further they went into the swamp, the more skepticism Bakugou could feel radiating off of Kirishima.

“If you have something to say, say it.”

“The ‘best damn witch you’ve ever met’ lives out here?”

“Do you think I’d be out here otherwise?” Bakugou spat, fighting to pull his boot out of the muck. “They live just passed those trees. You can see the cabin if you look close enough.”

“Wait, they? Who–”

“BAKUGOU!”

“Oh fuck,” Bakugou muttered as the wind swirled through the trees and a pink blur shot from the door of the cabin. Kirishima began to growl, but Bakugou was flat on his back before his claws could even unsheath. A woman in a pink dress and matching witch’s hat was perched on his chest. She poked at him with her staff.

“Why did you wait so long to visit, asshole!” She shrieked.

“Because you always attack me, fucking shit!” Bakugou spat back. Kirishima’s eyes darted between the two of them. His pupils were slitted. Bakugou knew he was scanning with a predator’s eye for any sign of threat. He sighed.

“Ki–” Bakugou fumbled on the name but corrected himself, “Eijirou, this is Round Face, the witch I told you about.”

With a flourish, she floated off of him to stand in front of Kirishima. All the annoyance had left her face, only a brilliant smile remaining. She offered him a hand.

“He forgot to mention his best friend. I’m Ochako Uraraka!”

“Not my friend,” Bakugou grumbled and ducked with practiced timing as Uraraka swung her staff at his head. Kirishima was staring at him like he’d lost his mind. Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Come on Shitty Hair,” he grumbled, and grabbed Kirishima’s wrist. “Let’s go.” He began dragging him toward the house. The hold was awkward, so Bakugou slid his hand down, interlinking his fingers with Kirishima’s. Uraraka coughed, and when Bakugou looked at her, she smirked. He raised an eyebrow. She slowly looked down at their hands, then looked back up at him. Her smirk grew, and she made a kissy face. His cheeks flushed (with rage) and he had to actively fight to keep his explosions beneath his skin. He was about to scream about how it wasn’t like that, when a croaky voice called out from the door.

“Hello Bakugou, ribbit.”

Tsu looked exactly like Bakugou remembered, a tiny nixie woman with bulbous eyes and clammy skin patterned like a bullfrog. Her long hair was interwoven with blooming lily pads, and even from here, Bakugou could tell her dress was damp.

“Frog,” he grunted.

“Bakugou!” Kirishima gasped. He smacked Bakugou’s arm but Bakugou was more focused on the space where Kirishima’s hand used to be. His palm felt cold.

“Ribbit, that’s actually pretty nice for Bakugou,” Tsu informed him. “I’m Tsuyu Asui but you can call me Tsu. All my friends do.”

“Fr-friends?” Kirishima sputtered.

“As soon as I know your name.”

“Oh! I’m Eijirou! It’s nice to meet you! You have a very manly house!”

Tsu tilted her head at that, but thankfully didn’t ask.

“Thank you,” she replied graciously, and guided him inside.

“I can’t believe you fell in love with a himbo,” Uraraka muttered once they were out of earshot.

“Shut the fuck up,” he hissed back and stomped inside.

He could hear her cackling behind him.

The inside was messy as usual. The front door entered straight into Uraraka’s workshop. A cauldron was bubbling in the center of the room, bright stains from potion spills gathered at its base. Wall to wall, the shelves were filled with potion ingredients, everything from basic herbs to shit Bakugou was just hoping wasn’t alive. The air smelled like sour sugar and buzzed with magical potential. It made Bakugou’s nose itch.

“I’m going to make tea for our nice guest and Bakugou, ribbit,” Tsu said, placing a kiss on Uraraka’s cheek.

“Oi! I can be nice!”

“Do you want anything, Ochako?” Tsu continued talking as though no interruption had happened.

“Tea with extra honey please!”

“Don’t ignore me,” Bakugou bristled. Tsu left the room without a single glance in his direction. “Pink cheeks, I hope you’re ready to be a widow!”

“He likes that she stands up to him,” Uraraka faux-whispered, and Bakugou could hear Kirishima giggling, like the absolute fucking traitor he was.

“Shut up! We have a real problem to deal with!” Kirishima’s laughter faded with his harsh reminder and Bakugou felt like an asshole. What else is new? “Eijirou has a curse he needs to get rid of.”

Uraraka’s eyes narrowed. “Really? But he seems perfectly fine.”

Bakugou glanced at Kirishima, who sighed.

“It’s... Probably easier to show you? Let me just...” Kirishima moved to the center of the room, somewhere his wings and tail wouldn’t knock over any of the shelves. He transformed, and it wasn’t any less breathtaking now than it was the first. Uraraka gasped in awe and clapped her hands together.

“Incredible!” She said, eyes sparkling with the reflection of Kirishima’s scales. “I’ve never seen a spell like it!”

Kirishima’s tail drooped. “You haven’t?”

“Don’t look so glum!” She chided. “That just means I get to be the one to create a solution. I just need these...” She pulled approximately a dozen bottles off the shelves, then trotted over to Kirishima. “And a scale from you!”

“You are not ripping out one of my scales!” Kirishima hissed. His wings puffed up behind him, and Bakugou could hear him growling. “It hurts!”

“Okay, okay,” Uraraka acquiesced, “If you say so– Oh my goodness, is Bakugou smiling?” Kirishima’s head snapped towards Bakugou as Uraraka plucked a scale from Kirishima’s arm. He yelped, and turned to glare at her, but she had nimbly run back to her cauldron.

“Sorry,” she chirped, not sounding sorry at all, “But I need it for the spell.” As she opened a spell book on the table near the cauldron, the jars began levitating around, circling in a calculated, chaotic orbit, bouncing in time with her humming. Kirishima gaped at her, mouth so wide, Bakugou could easily glimpse his serrated teeth. He chuckled and reached over and shut Kirishima’s mouth.

“Save it for when she actually does something impressive,” he chuckled.

Uraraka made a little indignant huff, but didn’t argue. She knew as well as he did that this display was far from any sort of difficulty for her. As jars unscrewed, and pinches of herbs delicately stirred themselves into the brew, it changed colors. First red, then green, then brown, then, with one last shower of sparks from Uraraka herself, a serene clear, like that of untouched cave water. If Bakugou hadn’t seen the process himself, he would have thought the cauldron empty. The smell changed too, the sour-sugar smell fading into something more like rain.

“This is just a basic divination brew, useful for identifying types of magic,” Uraraka informed them. She held up the crimson scale she stole. “It’ll hopefully tell me what kind of curse was placed on you, and then we can go from there!”

She dropped the scale in with a plop. It dissolved with the ease of a snowflake. Bakugou braced himself for a loud bang or some kind of horrid fog but nothing happened. The potion maintained its perfect clarity.

For the first time that day, Uraraka frowned. “That’s... that’s impossible.

“What does it mean?” Kirishima asked, voice serrated with anxiety.

“That’s the thing, it doesn’t mean anything!” Uraraka frantically flipped through the spellbook, searching for anything she could have missed. “According to this, there’s no curse on you at all!”

“Dragon shifters tend to be resistant to most magic,” Tsu chimed in as she walked in from the kitchen. She was carrying a tray with four steaming mugs on it. “Perhaps whatever’s wrong with you isn’t a curse at all, ribbit.”

“Dragon shifter?” Uraraka repeated.

“What the fuck you talking about, swampbreath?”

Tsu cocked her hand at them. “That’s the kind of creature Eijirou is? I could smell it from the moment you walked up. ”

“N-No, I’m a human,” Kirishima stuttered. He was paling under his scales. Tsu shook her head.

“You have wings,” She said, like they were all idiots.

“It’s– it’s a curse,” Kirishima insisted. His hands were shaking. “That’s why they sent me away, it’s a punishment!”

Tsu’s expression stayed blank but a sharpness entered her eyes, a weight to her shoulders. Bakugou was suddenly reminded of the fact that nixies are fierce predators, Tsu included. He wondered if this is what she looked like when she was mad.

Tsu set the mugs down and walked forward to Kirishima. Despite the fact she had to look up at him, he seemed so much smaller than her. Perhaps it was the way his tail curled between his legs, as if he feared the woman in front of him and what she had to say.

“Do you know how dragon shifters come about?” She asked softly. The question clearly threw Kirishima off guard, startling an answer out of him.

“No?”

“Mm,” she hummed, and took a moment to speak. The room was still with her thoughts, populated only by the crackle of the fire under the cauldron and Uraraka’s nervous breaths.

“When a dragon falls in love, dedicated, everlasting love, with a human or an elf or nixie, any humanoid creature, their magic changes them, giving them a form suited for their partner. Children of these pairings are able to manifest dragon features, a trait of the bloodline their ancestor forsook in the pursuit of love.” Tsu reached forward, hands slower than a melting glacier. She took Kirishima’s scaled hands in her own and squeezed them fiercely. “It’s not a punishment at all, Eijirou.” Her words were nearly pleading. “It’s a gift.”

“So... It’s not fixable?” Kirishima panted. His eyes were wide, sweat dripped down his brow. He looked to be moments away from bolting. At his question, Tsu’s blank expression softened. Bakugou would nearly call the look fond.

“No. Because there is nothing wrong with you.”

Kirishima ran for the door. The vials of potions and ingredients clattered with the force of his steps. He floundered with the doorknob, claws unable to get a good grip. He flung the door open and nearly tripped down the stairs. Wings sprung from his back and he took off into the sky.

Without a second thought, Bakugou ran after him.

~~~

The sun had nearly set when Bakugou finally found Kirishima. He was curled up at the base of a tree, wings wrapped around his body. The only way Bakugou knew it was Kirishima and not some other flying beast was the blindingly red spikes of hair poking up. Bakugou dashed forward, sliding on his knees to Kirishima’s side.

“What the hell were you thinking! Someone could have seen you, I thought you wanted–”

“Bakugou,” Kirishima interrupted. He lifted his face and gone was any trace of the smile Bakugou had become so familiar with. His voice was level as a river stone. “Where are my people?”

“Wha-”

“The people of Riot. Where are they?”

Bakugou hummed. “The Riotans had to flee the kingdom after Shigaraki took over... most of them are refugees, living in camps on the borders of Yuuei and Endeavor. Enji’s been trying to clear most of them out though. Arrests any ‘freeloaders’ he finds.” Bakugou couldn’t help the snarl in his voice. The entire practice was despicable.

“So they’re alone, in a new place, because of something that wasn’t their fault?”

Kirishima’s red eyes gazed into Bakugou. His gaze felt endless. Goosebumps danced down Bakugou’s spine. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He nodded.

“Mm,” Kirishima murmured, “I get that.” He nodded, and Bakugou watched his dragon features retract. He stood.

“I’ll do it.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll do it,” Kirishima repeated, stronger, more sure of himself. “I’ll become king.” He set his jaw and squared his shoulders. The setting sun painted him in deep golds, igniting the reds of his hair and eyes. His ragged clothes were like gilded silks, gilting in the fading light. He was a gilded statue, a testament to the kings of old, set in the courtyard to inspire future generations. Bakugou felt his jaw drop. He was breathtaking.

And then he did something Bakugou wouldn’t have expected if the gods themselves had warned him.

Kirishima reached out his hand.

“Come with me.”

Bakugou exhaled, either as a gasp or his lungs restarting. “What?”

“I may be the prince but... I don’t know anything about running a country. I need you.”

“No, you don’t.”

The words came out sharper than he intended. He knew his face was twisted into a snarl, that sparks were shooting from his palms as if in anger, but... Bad habits were hard to break. Kirishima flinched back at the outburst. Good, better he knows now.

“I’m not a good person,” Bakugou cackled, “I’m...” He scrunched his eyes shut, unable to look at Kirishima any longer.

He knew. He knew what he was and what others saw in him.

He saw it in the disappointed look in Aizawa’s eyes after he went too far during a spar.

He felt it in the way Deku trembled when his palms exploded, even when the blasts weren’t directed at him.

He heard it from his mother, when she hissed it in his ear when he developed his magic.

“I’m a monster.”

Kirishima didn’t answer, in fact he didn’t say anything. Bakugou still didn’t open his eyes, he couldn’t bear the thought of watching Kirishima walking away. So he’ll admit he jumped a bit when he felt hands on his cheeks. The claws were gentler than he ever thought possible as they dipped under his eyes and wiped away tears Bakugou hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“Bakugou.” His voice was soft and sure as a mossy stone, “You’re not a monster.” Bakugou was certain that if he opened his eyes, Kirishima would be staring at him with gentle, trusting eyes, which was even worse than not looking at him at all.

“You, you don’t know,” Bakugou argued. His voice cracked, and it pissed him off. “You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“Look at me.”

Bakugou was quickly learning that he couldn’t deny Kirishima anything.

He opened his eyes. He was right, Kirishima was unguarded and beautiful. It made his stomach churn.

“Do remember when you asked why I never left the tower?” Kirishima asked, and the question caught Bakugou off guard.

“Yeah? What does that have to do with-”

“I lied,” Kirishima barrelled over his question. “I tried to leave. I wanted to, so fucking badly. For years, I did everything I could think of to try and get out but...” Kirishima claws clicked against his scales with nervous tension. “My parents... They had a sorcerer cast a spell over the tower. ‘The prince born of beast will not leave this tower, unless under the will of a good man’s power.’ They thought it was foolproof, because no good man would ever set a monster loose in the world.”

Bakugou sucked in a breath.

“I was only able to go beyond the boundaries of the spell because you pulled me past it.”

“That’s... They fucked up the spell then, I’m not–”

“People tried in the past.”

Bakugou shook his head. The world was spinning.

“A nurse who wanted to hold me captive, bandits who attempted to drag me away, a man... I don’t know what he wanted, but I bounced back the second he got me to the edge of the spell. Every person with ill-intentions who tried to take me with them, found themselves blocked by an invisible wall. So imagine my surprise when you managed to wrestle me out of my prison.” He ran a hand through Bakugou’s hair, tucking a strand behind his ear. “That’s why I agreed to go with you.”

Bakugou tried to answer, but his mouth just opened and closed twice.

“Bakugou, you told me I wasn’t a monster. I don’t think you’re one either.” The hands cupping his face tightened, as though he feared Bakugou would fall through his grasp like sand. The look on his face was akin to that of a man dying of thirst watching water be poured on the ground. Pure, earnest desperation.

“So I’ll ask you again. Will you come with me?”

Bakugou answered Kirishima by pulling him into a kiss.

Because, goddammit, he’d follow this idiot anywhere.

#kiribaku #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #fantasy au #tsuchako #tsuyu asui #uraraka ochako #tw parental neglect #tw emotional neglect #everyone's parents suck #kiribaku big bang #my writing #my fanfic #my bnha fanfic

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ericxanders · 5 years

Text

Kiss Me Slow || ROYALTY

WHO: Eric Anderson and Kurt Hummel ( @pearhipshummel )

WHERE: Eric’s Apartment

WHEN: January 19th 2019

NOTES: There’s some bacon. There’s some flirting and then there’s some kissing.

Eric

His room was definitely in a state of disarray; and he'd planned on getting up early on Saturday morning to organise it more but he hadn't got up as early as he'd planned. The place was slowly coming together and by the time he heard Kurt knocking at his door, he didn't feel so embarrassed to have guests over. He answered the door and looked him over with a bright smile. 'I knew it; twice as pretty in person.' he winked, stepping aside to give him space to enter. 'I hope you'll excuse the state of the place. It's still a work in progress.'

Kurt

Kurt clutched one of his favorite cooking pots with different spices hidden inside as he left the switch dorms to make the short travel towards Eric Anderson's suite. When the door opened to accommodate him, he flashes a bright grin and tentatively enters. Off the bat and he was already blushing. How he should've expected anything less was silly of him, but he can only give a small tut. "Oh, please. I'm not that naive to think a new place is suppose to look as dashing as the new owner that's occupying it." He returns the wink as he moves into the kitchen, setting his pot down. "You should've seen my place after I moved in. Majority of the boxes were clothes. Took a while to get everything in closet space and dressers."

Eric

‘I suppose I should have known as much. Best dressed person in the school right?’ He echoes, recalling the conviction with which Kurt had shared that particular fact. ‘I have a pet hate about living in clutter honestly. I would have had most of my stuff put away but there was a whole mix-up with the airline and most of my luggage was sent on another flight.’ He explains, opening the fridge and ducking to properly root through it. ‘Can I get you a drink or anything?’ He asks, speaking into the fridge. ‘I’ve got lemonade, soda, milk, coffee, tea.’ He lists off, straightening up and turning to look back at him. The other man is both attractive and interesting; for right now, he can’t really ask any more of his company.

Kurt

"Oh that sounds like an irritating situation, Monsieur. I'm sorry to hear that." Kurt offers as he starts taking things out of his pot to set on the counter space beside the stove. The question coming about needing something to drink does perk an ear, but he goes for a different tactic. And as he had been this independently willed into serving Sebastian upon meeting him for the first time without prompt, he gently waves a hand to beckon Eric away from the fridge as he takes his place at the cool opening. "Now, now. I know my way around a kitchen. Let me get you a drink. You've just got here, so you have two options. You can either sit and relax and talk to me while I make us, or really moreso you, food. Or you can continue unpacking, with an occasional question directed my way. Either way, let me get you a drink, Monsieur. What would you like?"

Eric

He’s pleasantly surprised when Kurt takes his place. It’s an interesting show of submission; briefly taking charge so that serving becomes an option. Obviously, his Switch mark fits him rather well. ‘I’ll take a lemonade.’ He answers after a few moments of though. It doesn’t go unnoticed that he only plans to make a meal for one. ‘Why aren’t you making us food? Maybe I should have specified that. I’d definitely like you to stay and eat with me.’ He explains, as he lifts himself up onto the countertop; a decent distance away from where Kurt has started to unpack his things to ensure he has plenty of room.

Kurt

On the beverage request, Kurt locates the lemonade and a glass to pour it in as smoothly as if this kitchen was his own. His head cocks slightly from the next question, as he hands the glass up to the Dom. "Oh, well if that's the case, I'd be honored to actually join you, Monsieur." Another small smile as he sets the lemonade back in the fridge and goes snooping through the food items he had to work with. Locating some potatoes, whipped cream, garlic, and bacon he returns to the stove and sets the items next to the settled seating area of the Dominant. "Now, usually this dish is best served with wine. White wine to be specific. But as we're not permitted to have alcohol and we're still on a lockdown, I suppose I owe you that drink when we're able to go off campus."

Eric

‘More time with the charming and beautiful Kurt Hummel; I’m almost glad for the lockdown.’ He teases. He wouldn’t describe himself as a flirt but he definitely enjoys it. He was being quite serious when he expressed his desire to see Kurt flush; his mind had instantly drifted to every other way he could make his skin turn. ‘Until then, we can always add a little fizzy water to this and call it bubbly.’ He laughs. It’s definitely thrilling to have someone outright want to serve him. ‘Tell me about Kurt.’ He requests. ‘I’m not going to ask you questions. Letting you talk freely about yourself is the best way to get to know you.’ He nods.

Kurt

Kurt can't help but to laugh, as he holds up a spatula as if he is fanning himself. "Oh, you flatter me, Monsieur." He chimes in from the statement of getting to spend more time with him. Something he wouldn't mind, as so far the company was nice and this Eric guy wasn't pulling the Dominant card at every turn. Or really at all so far, which was always something Kurt could get on board with. Starting in filling his pot with water to boil, he starts peeling his potatoes while jutting his bottom lip out in thought. "Alrighty, I can do that until I feel like I'm being a little too conceited." He adds a nervous laugh and then takes a deep breath. "But I am the eldest triplet of three, to a sister and a brother. Both, of whom, are also here. But uh, my mother passed when we were 8, and she was my hero. Plus she and I share the same hair type, so I think I got the better half of the gene pool." He gives an exaggerated hair flip which barely moves his coifed hair with a laugh. "Kidding. Sort of. But after she passed, I kind of took to caring for my dad until he found Carole, so now I have three more siblings brought in by marriage. It was a full house, and it took some getting used to." With his potatoes peeled, he cuts them into four sections and sets them in the pot of heating up water. "It definitely helped that my step brother, Finn, was good looking and I kind of fell hard for him. It was very embarrassing, because I wasn't subtle about it either." He feels his face go red, but he quickly shakes it off, searching for a skillet. "I obviously moved on after he used a slur towards me, and my dad chewed him out. But we've moved on since then, and on better terms with one another." Finding what he's looking for, he sets it on another burner, and goes to open the strips of bacon with a hum. "High school was uneventful...uh...and here I am!"

Eric

Asking him to just talk about himself isn’t a cop out or a way to ensure he doesn’t have to answer questions. Eric has always liked people and he’s always liked getting to know them; his friends used to joke that he could go into a bathroom on a night out and come out with a new friend who had divulged their life story. When Kurt starts to talk and share, he’s genuinely interested in everything he has to say. ‘I think I’ve spoken to your brother actually. Teddy right? No sign of your sister but by process of elimination, she must share my mark so no doubt we’ll run into one another in class or in the building.’ He can’t hide his delight in the way Kurt’s face reddens. ‘I was definitely right; you look gorgeous when you get all flushed.’ He teases lightly. He doesn’t want to comment on specific events; Kurt doesn’t need a stranger’s condolences on his Mother’s passing or that’s the assumption he makes. ‘It sounds like you’ve had a rather eventful time of it up until now.’ He remarks. ‘And now you’re here, cooking for a stranger.’

Kurt

Kurt ducks his face some from the compliments. Though he never actually minded in being called nice things, blushing or not, he always took a bit of embarrassment from letting himself show any sign of vulnerability. Even if the guy was good looking as Eric was. Laying strips side by side on the skillet, he bites his lip and offers the Dom a side long glance. "Well, I'll let you in on a secret." He holds his free hand up to cup the side of his mouth as if he's actually telling a secret. "I only cook for good looking and charming strangers off the bat." It comes out as a whisper, playing on serious though he has a playful twinkle on his eye. "But yes, Teddy is my brother. And my sister, Nora, will also probably charm your socks off when you do run into her." With the sizzling of the bacon, he flips each strip to ensure proper cooking and checks on the potatoes next. "What about you, Monsieur? What is your life story?"

Eric

'You think I'm good-looking and charming?' he echoes, a smirk playing on his lips before he takes a long drink of his lemonade. He pushed himself off the counter and went about setting the table for two. 'My life story? I'm also the eldest of three but I'm the second oldest in my family. My brother Cooper is seven years older and he was a single birth. He's an aspiring actor out in LA now. Blaine's the only sibling here and given what happened to him recently, was the inspiration behind my transfer. We're a pretty close-knit family; my Mom's the Dominant, Dad's a submissive although they were both Switches once. Growing up was interesting because we were exposed to the lifestyle pretty regularly. My Mom's big on open communication with all of us; and I'm not ashamed to admit I'm a total Momma's boy so we're really close.' he explains, gesticulating as he does so. 'I lived in Chicago after high school; studied there actually and got a nifty little degree in photography and fine art. I graduated early and was deciding what I should do when everything happened with Blaine. It made the decision of where to enrol really fucking easy.' he laughs. running his fingers through his hair.

Kurt

Kurt listens intently, offering Eric his actual gaze when he's not doing something with the food that requires his focus. Which he does give once the potatoes soften, and the bacon is done enough to set it aside on some paper towels to soak up any left over grease. Draining the potatoes, he starts mixing in the whipped cream and spices in a separate bowl, cutting the bacon up into tiny pieces lastly to set in the mixture. "Oooo, a photographer, huh?" Kurt hums, holding a spoon up for Eric to test taste the concoction of bacon and whipped cream first. "Tell me with your fine artistic tongue of yours if you want me to add anything or if it's fine or anything." Cups his free hand under the spoon, holding it up.

Eric

He steps forward, resting a hand on Kurt’s hip as he does so before parting his lips to take the spoon between them. A satisfied hum leaves his lips and he flicks his tongue to the corner of his mouth to catch the cream that was left. ‘Maybe a little black pepper. A little heat is always a good thing in my humble opinion.’ He muses. He’s reluctant to pull his hand away from the other’s hip but he does so he can return to putting the final touches to their meal. ‘You’re going to have to teach me how to make that.’ He grins.

Kurt

The touch is nice, and Kurt finds himself leaning into it as he watches with interest as the spoon disappears between the others lips. His face ultimately flushing further once his mind goes to a whole other realm of thinking which he chastises himself silently for. "Black pepper it is!" He nods, grateful for the opportunity to pull away and add more black pepper to the cream, giving it a mix and a taste for himself. Though he does laugh. "It's not that hard, Monsieur. It's a French dish actually." Carefully pouring the cream mixture over the potatoes, he mixes them together. "So a photographer's eye means I require your advice on the best angles and lighting options for shooting video myself."

Eric

‘Normally, my subjects don’t ask too many questions but I’m sure I can lend my expertise to your cause.’ He winks. ‘I say that because photographing people, taking portraits is only something I’ve started to explore seriously more recently. I normally take landscape shots.’ He clarifies, nodding his head towards some of the shots he’s already got framed and hung on the wall. ‘What are you shooting a video for?’

Kur

"You're still more of an expert than I am, darling." Kurt muses, setting the potatoes aside to search the fridge and freezer for a vegetable next. Locating a bag of broccoli, he grabs another pot to set the vegetable in with some water and starts to steam it. "I'm not totally at liberty to say, Monsieur. But it's for a good cause." While waiting for the broccoli, he goes to grab some butter. "I'm guessing you're still one for lemonade to drink with this?" He asks, tilting his head. "And while usually we have dessert right away, I'll have to ask your assistance to make it. So the question is, is if you'd prefer we do that now or eat first. Would hate for you to die of starvation, Monsieur."(edited)

Eric

'A secret project? How intriguing Kurt Hummel. You're a man of mystery. I like it.' he grins, although his curiosity shows quite clearly on his face. 'I'd be able to help you much better if you could divulge a secret or two.' he winks. 'Lemonade is good for me. Honestly, you'll find I drink gallons of the stuff. Help yourself to whatever you fancy.' he offers, gesturing towards the fridge. He thinks for a minute before nodding. 'Let's eat first; we can let our stomachs settle while we put dessert together.' he decides, pulling out a chair for Kurt to sit in.

Kurt

Kurt gives a teasing shoulder lift. "Well, I don't like giving everything away on the first date, darling. That's more of a third or fourth date kind of information." Carefully draining the broccoli and adds the butter for flavor, and carries to the the table. "Oh, quite the gentleman," the porcelain male grins as he takes the seat when it's offered. Honestly he couldn't remember the last time he had that done for him, and he was going to soak in the attention as much as he could. It was enough for his cheeks to turn red again, as he lets Eric help himself first before doing the same.

Eric

'If I'd known this was a date Kurt, I'd have brought you flowers.' he remarks, sending a wink in his direction. 'I suppose we can call this a taster date.' he allows, reaching across the table to fill his plate. The meal looks and smells incredible; and it's considerably fancier than anything he would have managed to cook up for himself. 'You keep blushing gorgeous.' he points out, resisting the urge to touch Kurt's cheek. 'It's attractive and adorable but I'm at a loss to figure out why.' he confesses.

Kurt

"Flowers?" He feels his chest flutter, and he has to pause in pouring himself lemonade so he doesn't drop it out of pure shock from someone actually offering. "I mean, I'd never turn down flowers, Monsieur. Unless they're being thrown at me. Because I read once that someone threw some roses with thrones and it unluckily got caught in the girls hair and scratched her eye. Total accident, but can't take a chance." He finished pouring finally, setting the bottle aside with a small shrug. Taking a small bite of the food as it was something heavy and his empty stomach wouldn't be able to handle too much of it at once. "Mmm...can't a boy blush when the company he's keeping is being sweet to him for no real reason?"

Eric

'Yes Kurt, flowers. Romance is important. I'm all for keeping it alive however I can.' He can't deny the flutter he feels at seeing the surprise on Kurt's face. That suggests he isn't being romanced and there's nothing Eric enjoys more than throwing a little love around. 'I promise I will never throw flowers at you and if roses are ever being exchanged, they'll be thoroughly dethorned.' he promises, making a show of crossing his finger over his heart. 'You can blush all you like but I'm not being sweet for no reason. You're interesting, you're kind and you're attractive. Any one of those alone would be enough to draw out a little sweetness.' he insists, sending a wink in his direction. He takes a bite and groans around his fork. 'Holy shit, this is fucking delicious.'

Kurt

The mention of romance being important brings a dubious eyebrow lift from the switch. Silently wishing everyone had the same outlook on that way of thinking. But he doesn't comment, just bites on his bottom lip as the blushing continues. "Well, then I expect flowers for the first official date, Monsieur. Don't let me down now." He teases with a point of his finger, and a small teasing chuckle as he takes another small bite of the food. "And you're going to make a boy explode over here if you keep making me blush like this. Then you'll have yourself to blame afterwards when there's a mess to clean up." Setting his fork down, he picks the drink up and takes a long drink to cool himself down and to fill the void in his stomach. "I told you, I know my way around the kitchen. Next time I'll make something more challenging for you to enjoy."

Eric

'All you have to do is tell me your favourite and I'll make sure to have them on hand.' He scoots his chair a little closer to Kurt and can't help but push the flirtatious boundary by leaning in and whispering against his ear. 'I can think of at least one other way to make you explode and I suspect we'd both thoroughly enjoy cleaning up the mess.' He turns his attention back to his meal as though he hadn't just alluded to something filthy and continues to eat. 'I'll happily play the taste tester for anything you feel like putting together for me. It'd be entirely my pleasure.'

Kurt

The sudden invasion of personal space was unexpected, but not unwelcome. His entire body tingled with anticipation as the warm breath ghosted against flushed skin. He wasn't sure what he was anticipating, but the flirtatious words went right to his groin forcing himself to sit up a little straighter. Not even having the words to reply, as his jaw goes slack as he keeps his focus directly on his plate of food when Eric pulls away. He can feel he's completely red from head to toe at this point, as everything feels heated and he can hear his own heartbeat inside his head. When he does come back down from wherever he had gone to, he clears his throat. "Well, that's good to know! Because I may just have to put a lot of things together then. You'll probably have to get a gym membership to ensure I don't accidentally fatten you up or something."

Eric

He watches the way he responds to his whispered words. He doesn't interrupt his thoughts and despite his curiosity, he doesn't ask about where Kurt goes in his head. He knows it was forward of him and he's thrilled it seems to have been well-received. 'You know, there's worse things that could happen to me than a little fattening up.' he grins before he pats his stomach. 'I've long given up hope of ever being someone with a six pack. I enjoy my food too much and I don't have the discipline to work out too much.' He keeps his chair in the new position, close enough to be in touching distance of the other although he remains careful to allow him to keep his space. 'What do you have planned for dessert?' he asks.

Kurt

"Such a shame," Kurt muses as he picks at his food again, taking another small bite, "I could use a yoga buddy over the weekend mornings." Giving a small grin as he bites on the fork and sets it down, patting at the corners of his mouth, grateful for the shift in conversation. "Strawberry shortcake, except, not with angel food cake. A lot of people think angel food, but sometimes that a little too sweet. You know? And as you're sweet enough to cause a cavity, we don't need that." With a wink, he pushes himself up from the seat and goes snooping for flour. "It's similar to a biscuit, like with biscuits and gravy? But instead of gravy, it's strawberries and whipped cream."

Eric

'That honestly sounds delicious. I have a terrible weakness for strawberries.' As he's gathering up their dinner plates, he can't help but notice the fact that Kurt has only really picked at his food but he doesn't comment on it. He rinses the plates and loads them in the dishwasher while directing Kurt on where he can find ingredients when necessary. He rolls up his sleeves and takes a position next to him. 'Alright then, you're the boss. Tell me what you need me to do.' he grins.

Kurt

Kurt smirks, grabbing a bowl to start making the dough as Eric cleans up the plates. Letting himself just stare, maybe get ahead of himself with the fantasizing about enjoying this view a little too much for the moment. He could come back down to reality later. "Well, can you start kneading this and then roll it out to your desired thickness, please? I'll handle the strawberries." Sliding the bowl over towards Eric, he finds a knife to start cutting the stems off first, then slicing them in half. Picking up a pretty juicy half of one to slip between his lips, and offers the other towards Eric.

Eric

He works the dough, concentrating a little more than he probably needs to. He's just about finished rolling it out when Kurt's hand appears near his face. He turns and offers a grin at the offered strawberry. Much like he had when tasting the sauce earlier, he parts his lips and leans forward. This time, he makes a point of sucking Kurt's fingers between his lips long after he's tasted the sweetness of the strawberry. He pulls back with a pop. 'Delicious.'

Kurt

Both of Kurt's eyes widen a bit, and he sucks in a breath to hold it until Eric is done being is total tease. He definitely feels a twitch between his legs this time, and he gives a little giggle from the delicious comment. "You, Monsieur, are ridiculous." He shakes his head, returning to the job at hand to blend the strawberries together and get the oven turned on. "Just got to cut those bad boys into biscuit shapes, put them in the oven, wait for them to rise, cool off, and then we can eat them. Go team!"

Eric

'Ridiculous maybe, but it's making you grin.' he points out, although his eyes definitely flicker south to gauge any other potential reaction. He does his best to cut neatly but the dough is a little sticky and this isn't something he has a great deal of practice with. His circles are all mostly the same size and all the same thickness. Once the oven has heated up, he slides the tray in and closes the door. 'So how long do we have before we need to take them out?' he asks, returning to the edge of Kurt's personal space. 'I mean, the kitchen already smells fucking delicious so I'm impatient to get eating them.'

Kurt

Sucking some of the strawberry juice off his own fingers as his personal space gets invaded somewhat again. Deciding to up the playful teasing as he looks at Eric through his eyelashes and removes his finger from his mouth, sticking one hip out more with a soft hum. "It takes twelve minutes to bake, and then about twenty minutes to cool down enough to eat. So, that's 42 minutes to do as we wish." Head tilting, he closes in the distance between them for a second, eyes dropping to Eric's mouth before he swiftly moves away. "So I suggest we finish getting you fully unpacked!"

Eric

He reaches out and catches Kurt's hand, giving him a quick tug to pull him back against his chest. 'I've been unpacking all day.' he laments, resting his head on the other's shoulder. 'It's absolutely the last thing I want to do.' He enjoys the tease; it's reassuring to have Kurt respond and play along. It lets him know he wasn't the only one wanting to push boundaries. 'Give me another suggestion.' he demands, sliding his arms more securely around his waist. 'Unpacking my shit can't be the way you want to spend a Saturday. What do you want to do? Or make a suggestion as to what you'd like me to do.' he winks.

Kurt

Another giggle, an actual genuine giggle, escapes as he's pulled back as his hands find a resting place on the Dominants arms. Comfortable to keep the closeness between them. Head tilting back for a moment as he just radiates total amusement. "I don't know, Monsieur. I think I'd be very, very good at unpacking what you brought." Waggles his brows suggestively, and brings a hand over to trace along Eric's bearded jaw. "But then again, this isn't a third date. Can't rush too fast into unpacking all of you just yet. So I'll settle for you kissing me. If you want." He leans in a bit closer to whisper. "Truth be told, I haven't kissed anyone with this much facial hair and I'm highly curious."

Eric

He nuzzles his chin against Kurt's hand, giving him a taste of how scratchy his beard can feel against a person's skin. 'It's not for everyone.' he admits. 'Some people love the sting of a little beard burn and some people hate it but it would be my absolute pleasure to kiss you Kurt Hummel.' he nods in agreement. He's gentle when he presses him back against the kitchen counter, light when he leans in and catches his lips in a smooth kiss. His hands remain tight around his waist and he leans a little of his weight against him. Twelve minutes before the biscuits need to come out of the oven; time he can very easily fill by kissing the Switch. He kisses him deeper and nips at his lower lip. He's languid and lazy and he takes his time in exchanging chaste kisses lightly pressed to his lips, to longer, more insistent kisses that suggest he wants so much more than he currently has.

Kurt

"Lucky for you I keep my face moisturized for such harsh elements." Kurt teases, following the movement so he can be pressed against the counter. His natural instinct to let the Dominant to take control for this first kiss of theirs. His eyes fall closed, and his arms slip around the other man's neck. It's a different feeling, with the rough feeling against his sensitive skin, but it's not all that unpleasant. If anything it's just a solid reaction to set the butterflies insane in the pit of his stomach bringing a small yet sharp inhale. His lips follow every swipe and nip, chasing Eric's lips down in refusal to let them break apart just yet. Even with his head going light, and his hands feeling shaky, he doesn't want it to stop.

Eric

In Eric's opinion, kissing can exist entirely on its own. It doesn't have to be leading to something more because there's something so wonderfully intimate and intense about it alone. Kurt responds to him perfectly; he follows rather than leads and it's a huge ego boost that his lips seem to chase after him to keep a solid connection. He brings a hand up to Kurt's face, stroking his thumb over his cheek as he pulls back just enough to suck in a breath. 'Don't forget to breathe gorgeous.' he murmurs, giving him the opportunity to do so before he's kissing him again. He's more insistent again and he trails his lips from Kurt's to mouth along the smooth line of his jaw, very aware that his beard will scratch at the otherwise flawless skin as he goes.

Kurt

As the Dominant pulls away so they can both catch their breath, Kurt exhales shakily. He doesn't want to open his eyes though, as he's swimming in the feeling. The feeling light as a feather that was doing wonders and he was floating in it, never wanting to come back down. He feels so needy and vulnerable, and it has only been a kiss. A good kiss. But he wanted more. As much as he could get. As the others lips find his again, he feels himself smile into it this time. When was the last time he had smiled? He couldn't place a time or place beforehand. And things only escalated when the rough feeling traveled down to his jaw, which Kurt gives him total control in doing. It feels heavenly and he can't help but whimper.

Eric

The whimper sends sparks throughout his body. Kurt sounds so delightfully needy and he's only too happy to be the one to take care of that need. He nips at his jaw and slides his hand up into his hair. His grip isn't tight enough to cause him real pain but it's enough to be felt, it's enough to be able to tug his head to the side which gives him greater access to his neck. He continues his assault there, carefully altering the amount of pressure he replies and never doing one thing long enough to allow Kurt to completely adjust to it. He can feel the steady thump of his pulse and that's the exact spot he chooses to kiss over. He bites down, he sucks and hollows his cheeks; anything he can do to pull blood to the surface of his skin and ensure he's left with a vivid bruise. The timer on the oven goes off and that's the only thing that forces him to pull back. 'Stay right there.' he instructs. giving his waist a squeeze. 'Don't move a muscle. I'm going to take the biscuits out of the oven and then I'm going to come right back here.'

Kurt

Usually Kurt hated when his hair was messed with. But in this moment, he was far too gone. His body was on fire and wanted for Eric to be as close as possible and touch everywhere he could reach. If anything he gives an even more needy moan as his hair is gripped. His fingers twitch where they're grasping at each other from behind the Dom's neck to keep the closeness. His breath is catching in his chest, and he can't help the eye roll into the back of his head as he feels the pained pinch to his skin. A mark he'd definitely wear with pride. The timer causing him to jerk with surprise. Having totally forgot that they had been baking, as he got himself carried away under Eric's control. Curling his bottom lip into his mouth to bite, he withdraws his arms to keep himself propped against the counter as he's given the order. Or at least, it comes across as one, and he feels goosebumps as a result of it. With a nod, he lets out a shaky: "As you wish, Monsieur."

Eric

The praise falls from his lips without a second thought. 'Good boy.' He couldn't pinpoint exactly the moment things had shifted, or perhaps their roles had always subtly been in play but it isn't a shift he wants to complain about. He slips his hand into an oven glove and removes the tray. He carefully lifts the biscuits with a spatula and lays them along a wooden chopping board to cool down. When he turns back to Kurt, he grins, taking note of the fact that he really didn't move. 'That was a much better way to spend twelve minutes, don't you think?' he remarks, coming back to stand in front of him. 'Are you feeling okay?' he asks next, resting a light hand on Kurt's waist. 'That got to be a little more intense than I planned.' he admits as his eyes search the other's expression.

Kurt

The corners of Kurt's mouth twitch upward in a small grin from the praise given to him as he downcasts his gaze in a bashful manner. But as a good boy, he doesn't move. Just breathes. Breathes in the freshly baked biscuits. Breathes in the faint scent of strawberry stems that were left untouched for now only a few feet away. Breathes in the view of the Dom who had just had his mouth on Kurt's neck and making him melt in his arms. He even takes in another deep inhale as Eric returns, and he easily leans into the touch with a nod. "Just, you took my breath away. Haven't been kissed like that for a while, Monsieur. I let myself enjoy it." He offers another grin. "Was it okay for you? Am I first date material?"

Eric

'To play on a quote from Gone With The Wind, I'm of the opinion that you should be kissed like that often.' he hums, bringing his thumb up to swipe across Kurt's bottom lip. The question is light but it reminds him that perhaps Kurt needs to hear some verbal reassurance. That was his Mom's number one lesson; tell your submissive how you're feeling, what you're thinking. 'I can safely say that your any date material gorgeous.' He takes his hand and draws him through to the living room. The couch and the floor around it are clear; he immediately takes a seat but gives Kurt the option. 'You can sit where you want, or you can kneel if that's where your head's at right now. My preference would be for you to come sit here,' he indicates, patting his lap. 'Or to kneel there.'

Kurt

Kurt is one for having his mind eased before his paranoia gets the better of him. Something he knew he had to work on in his own personal time as it wasn't anyone else's problem but his own. But even so, the reassurance had him relaxing his shoulders from tension he hadn't even realized was there. Keeping his bottom lip caught between his teeth, he takes to following the other into the living space without question. While he personally hated being seen as a submissive usually, as it meant he was expected to serve. Expected to be respectful. Expected to do things against his will just because a higher mark demanded it of him. But right here, right now, he doesn't mind. It's coming easy and he's finding himself trusting quickly. Possibly something he'd kick himself for again, as last time he did that he got hurt. "You want me to kneel in your lap?" Kurt can't help but ask with a teasing grin, though he makes to settle on sitting in Eric's lap without question. "Because kneeling in your lap sounds uncomfortable."

Eric

‘Not necessarily.’ He slides his hands back and forth over Kurt’s thighs as he speaks. ‘It would be as simple as having one knee here and one here.’ He explains, gesturing to the space either side of each of his legs. He leans up and pulls Kurt down into another kiss. He’s happy to keep this up, to let his lips meet with Kurt’s over and over again; exploring a little further every time. He pulls back and lightly trails his finger over the skin reddened by his beard. His eyes light up with curiosity. ‘Still feeling good?’ He prompts, squeezing his thighs lightly.

Kurt

One delicate eyebrow arches as he presses his tongue along the inside of his cheek with a little smirk. "Oh, you do have a point with that, Monsieur. If you put it that way..." He makes an easy shift to straddle Eric's lap, gently cupping the Dominants face with both hands as he returns the kiss when it's offered to him again. Something he'd never be able to say no to at this point. Not when it was helping him feel so good, like nothing else mattered so long as he had those lips pressed against his. Resting foreheads together the moment the other pulls back again, feeling breathless all over, Kurt smiles. "Oui 'Monsieur. I feel amazing right now. And comfortable. And sated. And...mmmm, so good." Bringing a hand up to twist one of the loose curls around his finger. "Can I ask a favor of you, Monsieur?"

Eric

He realises he needs the reassurance too. It’s not enough to assume Kurt’s enjoying being kissed or that he’s feeling good. He needs to ask and hear the Switch answer him. ‘If at any point you’re not feeling all those good things, I want you to tell me.’ He requests, enjoying the feeling of Kurt’s hands holding his face. ‘Of course you can ask a favour. What’s up buttercup?’

Kurt

"Cross my heart," Kurt promises, making the crossing over the left side of his chest with his right hand, "hope to die or something. Except let's be real, I'm too pretty to die yet." Ducking his head with his own cackle at himself. But once he's given the green light to ask, he lifts his head again as he sits up a little bit straighter. "I would like to request more of your company, if I may? Like...May I spend the night?" He quickly holds his hands up. "And not in a sexual way, I promise. I can even crash on the sofa. I just...have this thing about being by myself for too long. And I can make you breakfast, if you'll let me of course, Monsieur."

Eric

If he hadn’t already thought him adorable, his request and more specifically the way he presented it, would have nailed down that description in his head. ‘You can definitely spend the night gorgeous.’ He agrees. ‘And you definitely won’t be crashing on the couch. I have two spare bedrooms and a bed more than big enough for two so you can take your pick.’ He offers. There’s a sexual joke on the tip of his tongue but he doesn’t make it out of a desire to ensure Kurt feels comfortable. ‘Whatever you want Kurt. I’m happy for any extra time spent with you.’

Kurt

Relief is evident as it washed over his features as he's granted his request. Grinning, he caresses Eric's beard with his thumbs. "Thank you. I really appreciate it, Monsieur." Leaving back in, he presses another kiss to the Dominant's lips, taking a deep inhale as he does so. This time breathing in Eric. Wanting to just remember this moment for a while. "I'd love to spend it in your bed. Though I tend to enjoy snuggling, I hope that's okay?"

Eric

Instinctively, his lips chase after Kurt’s, exchanging several more kisses before he manages to form a response. ‘Snuggling with an incredibly attractive human? Oh, I don’t know. However will I be able to live through something so traumatic.’ He teases, a warm smile firmly in place on his lips. ‘Snuggling, kissing, touching, cuddling; all more than okay things to share when you’re in my bed.’ He promises with a wink.

Kurt

Kurt mirrors the smile, resting his wrists on the others shoulders as he presses in closer. "Sounds promising to me, darling. Perhaps I'd like to kiss you to sleep and then wake you up with one too then." Rubs his fingers through the loose curls a second time, grazing the tip of his nose down the Dom's cheek, over his jaw where he pauses. "Do you have clothes I could sleep in? Because this isn't even our third date, so you can't possibly see me naked yet."

Eric

‘You mean I have to share my bed and I don’t even get to enjoy you nude?’ He feigns disappointment but his smile gives away the fact that he’s not speaking seriously. ‘I’m not as tall as you or as slim so I don’t know how well they’ll fit but you can have your pick of anything in the drawers: feel free to have a good look through for something suitable.’ He invites. ‘Fair warning, the top drawer in the bedside dresser is socks, underwear and sex toys so you might want to avoid that.’

Kurt

"In due time, darling." Kurt hums, pressing a few kisses down Eric's neck. "Everyone is eager to get naked for everyone. But I think I want to make you work for it, Monsieur. Though I do promise, you won't be disappointed." Another soft kiss and he's again lifting his head. "Oooo, sex toys? That just spikes my curiosity with what you're into, actually." Wiggling free from Eric's lap, he jogs to the bedroom and locates the dresser and goes immediately into snooping.

Eric

He waits for a beat, amused at how fast they seem to have connected and how much it doesn’t bother him before he pushes himself to his feet and follows Kurt through to his bedroom. ‘You’re not really going to get a full picture just by seeing a few dildos and a vibrator.’ He points out, leaning against the doorframe. ‘Those are just things it’s useful to have on hand; you never know when you might need to spice something up. The fastest way to find out what I’m into would be to just ask me.’

Kurt

Offering the Dom a raised brow as he holds up one of the dildos and starts to wiggle it out of his own amusement to watch it dance in the palm of his hand. "Spice things up. Do I get to know what you're into, or is that also saved for later?" Setting the dildo back in the drawer, he closes it and squats to open the bottom drawer first. "Which will be fair, but my interest is piqued."

Eric

‘I’d be very into bending you over the edge of my bed and seeing if I can make your other cheeks turn as red as your face has been.’ He teases. ‘Orgasm control is a big thing for me. I think it’s an insane turn-on when someone willingly hands over their pleasure to you. I’m good at denial; I’ve been known to make it last for days. I supposed forced orgasm would be in the same vein as that again, there’s something incredibly hot about someone tied down and forced to cum over and over and over.’ He explains, crossing the room to perch on the edge of his bed. ‘I like short term TPE and I’m really into pain play. Electro play is fun too; you’ve not lived until you’ve orgasmed from electricity.’ He lists off the first few kinks and interests that come to mind. ‘What about you? What are you into Kurt Mystery Hummel?’

Kurt

The mention of being bent over anything sent another shiver down his spine and he feels himself harden in his pants. Keeping himself distracted by locating some sweat pants and a plain tank top. Glancing back at Eric, knowing his face is yet again blushing red. He can't exactly find the words, as he closes the drawer and stands up, purposely holding the two items of clothing in front of himself. His brain had short circuited for a moment. "I—uh. Totally just blanked for a second, um." He Shakes his head. "I'm into a lot of things, Monsieur. I'm definitely a brat, so I'm into being put in my place. Anything rough. Putting my entire control in the hands of someone else." He steps in closer, biting his bottom lip again as his nervous tic of feeling bashful and aroused. "I'm into anything aside from breath play and anything involving the bathroom activities, to be honest. So, I definitely like spankings. In fact, my brat side always misbehaves just to get a few of those."

Eric

He can see Kurt’s mind whirling behind his eyes and he doesn’t do anything to pull him out of it. They’re not in any rush and whether he’s thinking about the information Eric had shared with him or pondering his own answer to the question, he’s entitled to the time it takes to do that. His fingers twitch at his sides; knowing Kurt enjoys a good spanking only increases his desire to give him one. ‘I hope, when we get to know one another more, you give me a reason to take down your pants and pull you over my lap in a very public setting. You’re so sweet I didn’t have you pegged as a brat but now my curiosity is piqued and I can’t wait to see that side of you.’ He closes the little distance left between them and selects the clothes in his left hand. Wear these.’ He instructs; taking the opportunity to exercise his role.

Kurt

Standing in close to Eric, he shrugs slightly. Resisting the urge to just spill he'd let the Dom in front of him do anything he wanted, so long it was to him and for him. His vulnerability and insecurity of being replaced was trying to deep through and he was pushing it down forcefully. "I would love for you to see my bratty side, Monsieur. I only hope you can handle me." He offers a little grin, following instructions by hugging the clothes close. "Yes, Monsieur. May I dress in your bathroom?"

Eric

‘My ex was a brat through and through. I handled her just fine.’ He shares. He lets himself linger in the closeness for a while. ‘But there’s no pressure. Just because we’re talking about sex and kink doesn’t mean I’m expecting that from you. You can decide to pursue or not pursue whatever you want. Regardless, I think you and I are going to be friends.’ He waits a beat before he nods. ‘You can get changed in here. I’ll go back and give you peace.’

Kurt

"Definitely no pressure." He bites back an'i trust you' since it was far too juvenile to jump into that ship. No matter how he was feeling in that moment, he knew in the long run he'd kick himself. He always did. Even so, he grins at the mention of them being friends and his heart flutters. "Thank you, Monsieur." He hums, stealing one last kiss from Eric, and steps back, waiting for the Dom to grant him privacy first so he can change.

Eric

He takes a moment just to look over him; and slowly exhales. ‘I hope you know I’m going to consider breakfast tomorrow our second date.’ He announces before turning on his heel and heading back to the kitchen. He ponders his reasons for coming here and he can only come up with one; Blaine. It was potentially a foolish move but the people he’s met, Kurt Hummel included, are leading him to believe that regardless of his reasoning, he’s made the right choice. While Kurt changes, he sets about whipping a fresh batch of cream for their strawberry shortcake and he cuts up a few extra strawberries just in case.

Kurt

The blush is back, and Kurt can only watch as Eric leaves him alone to change. With the amount of layers he put on to keep the cold on, it would take a while to slip out of the tight jeans, his body singing with praise at the release as things were starting to get very uncomfortable. A feeling he wasn't not used to, as he was human and very much reacted in a physical manner to any attention thrown his way. Similar to a dog salivating at a presenter treat. Something he did feel pathetic about, almost guilty. But he manages to get the sweats on and tie the string to ensure there'd be no slipping off. Sure they were a bit on the 'shorter' side, but they still reached his ankles and kept things loose and comfy. And the chosen sweatshirt fit like a charm, even hanging off of one shoulder slightly as Eric was more broad than Kurt hoped to be. Slipping out of the bedroom, he prods into the kitchen behind Eric and slips his arms around his waist, propping his chin atop his should to peer over at the whipped topping. "Oooo, look at those skills." He teases, stealing a swipe of the sweet fluff to taste with a soft approving sigh.

Eric

'If you're lucky, you'll come to learn my whipping skills are second to none.' Flirtatious banter comes easily and it's evident that it's going to be one of the main ways they communicate. It's a very comfortable position to be in and it's almost as though he fits against Kurt. He continues until the cream is whipped perfectly before turning in Kurt's arms. 'Well, take a step back. Half the fun of you wearing my clothes is me getting to appreciate you in them.' he insists, gesturing with his finger for Kurt to give a little twirl. The pants are definitely too short and the shirt doesn't fit right but somehow Kurt stops the look from being comical. He looks hot. 'I'll be honest, you wearing my clothes just makes me want to take them off.'

Kurt

There's a warm laugh as he steps back as instructed, and gives a pose. Hands on hips, and then one on his face as he gives a slow turn, only to look at the Dom over his shoulder as if to appear sultry, but laughs it off as he turns around fully to face Eric again. He can see how those eyes look him over, and the words that follow are tempting but he slows his roll and awards himself a mental point for resisting. "''Tis only our first date, and apparently me making you breakfast is the second. Patience, darling. The third will be upon you quickly enough." Going for a flirty and bashful pose, as he pretends to bite his pointer finger, twisting back and forth where he stands. "And oh the things we'll do, darling. I'll be a whimpery mess and be begging for you to never stop. And begging you please, oh, yes. Right there." He adds a moaning sound, rubbing his hands together, tilting his head to the side. "Please, Daddy, please. Need you so bad." Being the ultimate brat now, as he grind mischievously and starts Wiggling his hips from side to side.

Eric

Kurt's playing a game and it's one he's only too happy to engage in. 'I'm real happy to accept your boundaries Kurt.' he points out, as his hands find purchase on his waist. He holds him tightly and his mind wanders for a moment thinking about how satisfying it would feel to leave finger shaped bruises on his pale skin. Kurt's words and his actions are going straight to his crotch and he makes absolutely no attempt to disguise his reaction; making a point of holding Kurt still so he can rock his hips forward and grind against him. 'Please keep being a brat gorgeous.' he requests, nipping at the other's earlobe. 'Give me a reason to take your pants down right now and toss you over my lap.' He's itching to do it. 'Don't you forget that third date is coming and when it does, I'm going to pay you back for all your teasing tenfold. You're going to be crying for my cock Princess.' he grins, punctuating his sentence with a quick nip against the bruise he'd left earlier in the evening.

Kurt

Giggling as he presses in as close as Eric invades his personal space again. Something he'd be all too welcoming to without question for a while, as he curls his fingers into the Dom's choice of shirt. Another whimper escapes, though he's unsure if it's because of the grinding happening and the overall friction doing things to him, or the words being promised against his ear. "I don't cry easily, Daddy," Kurt purrs back in response, "but I'll sure enjoy watching and feeling you try." He wraps his arms back around Eric's neck.

Eric

'I have ways of making needy boys like you cry Kurt; and it's all about denying you want you want. You'll be overwhelmed.' The teasing is fun; the banter back and forth is satisfying in itself but out of a desire to respect Kurt's wishes, he knows he needs to nip it in the bud. If they keep going, they'll both reach a point where waiting for a third date doesn't seem all that important and right now, it seems to be important to Kurt. That's something he plans to respect. He leans down and kisses him soundly. 'But I think we both need to cool off a little because we're not going any further than this tonight. As much as I want to turn your ass red for being a brat, I'm not going to.'(edited)

Kurt

Kurt knows he's right. As he personally is holding out for a reason. Everyone jumps everyone's bones, and it was a reason he was getting hurt by his own intended in that everyone else's bones were getting jumped by him first before Kurt could get a toe dipped in anymore. He wanted to know he was more than just a fuck, fifteen minutes of feel good moments, only to to be pushed off to the sidelines for the next ass to walk by. It doesn't stop him from pouting though, as the brat within never liked being told no. "You'll do it later though, right?" He asks instead, still pouting. "By the third date that is. Pretty please, Monsieur?"

Eric

A smirk curls his lips and he shrugs his shoulders. 'Well, would you look at that? I already have you wanting. I wonder how needy you'll be by the time this elusive third date rolls around.' he winks. If that's a taste of how Kurt's going to plead with him, he can already tell he won't be disappointed with the final product. 'Right now, I'm going to go change out of these jeans because you've made them rather uncomfortable. I want you to take a minute, collect yourself and finish putting our dessert together. You can bring them in the living room when you're ready; we'll eat in there together.' He waits for confirmation Kurt understands, suspecting his brain might be as hazy as his own is, before he heads off towards his bedroom to wriggle out of jeans that are too tight for how hard his cock currently is.

Kurt

The pout is replaced quickly by a small scowl, a playful one anyway, and he's giving a little whine as his head falls back with a long and drawn out sigh. But as he resumes his regular body posture, he nods. "Okay, Monsieur. As you wish." He brings his hands away from the Dom, taking in a deep and calming breath to reel back in before going to picks the biscuits apart and set them in two separate bowls. Drizzling the strawberries on top, even sneaking in a taste now and again when getting the red juice on his fingers, he adds the whipped cream to top it off and carries it to the living room as requested.

#para: Kiss Me Slow #para: Kurt Hummel

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imagineproduce101 · 7 years

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Upon meeting Hwang Minhyun, the CEO of vampire-run company Empire, you’re intimidated by his cold nature and enormous levels of success. As the only human working at Empire, you’re bound to get yourself in a few sticky situations, but you’d never guessed that you’d be falling for your boss.

for anon who requested vampire!minhyun

in the same universe as moonstone

warnings for drinking blood

“Ah, no, no, no, no,” you groaned, bouncing on the balls of your feet, periodically glancing at your watch as though it would make time slow. “Today’s the worst day for this to happen.”

You were currently on the bus in morning traffic, and your job interview for the biggest shot in your life was in 10 minutes. You were half an hour away.

The bus inched slowly through the thick traffic, drawing closer and closer to your destination. By the time you were able to finally extract yourself from the crowd on the bus, you were ten minutes late to your interview. When you raced onto the elevator of the huge skyscraper that housed Empire and Co, you were fifteen minutes late. By the time you dashed to the receptionist desk, hair messy and breathing hard, you were twenty minutes late to your job interview for salesperson at Empire and Co, one of the largest corporations in the world.

“Name?” The receptionist asked, not even looking up as her perfectly manicured nails tapped away on the keyboard.

“(y/n) (y/l/n),” you said breathlessly, doing your best to smooth down your suit jacket.

The receptionist looked up sharply, nose wrinkled as she made eye contact with you. Her eyes turned a slight tinted red, as she handed you a visitor badge, her cold, elegant fingers brushing against yours.

You did your best to ignore her stare as you made your way to the conference room where the interviews were being held, pushing the door open tentatively.

“Who is it?” A male voice asked sharply, and you stumbled inside, straightening up quickly as you scanned the room. There were five males in total, four of them sitting in folding chairs, and the fifth standing in front of them. His presence was commanding, and you’d recognize those sharp cheekbones and piercing eyes anywhere—Hwang Minhyun.

“I’m (y/n), one of the applicants,” you managed to stammer out, hurrying inside to take the final seat at the back of the conference room.

“You’re late,” Minhyun drawled, eyes pinning you down as though you were a lowly bug.

“It won’t happen again,” you rushed to say, half-bowing from your seat. One of the other applicants turned in his seat and faced you, scoffing. His crimson irises made your blood run cold as you realized just what kind of situation you’d gotten yourself into. Empire was known for being an almost exclusively vampire-run corporation. You were one of the few humans brave enough to even apply for a job there, and it was honestly a miracle that you’d secured an interview at all.

“Now, as I was explaining,” Minhyun began pacing back and forth in front of the room, hands clasped behind his back, “we’re looking to expand our market. We need a salesperson who thinks quickly on their feet, is innovative, and a problem-solver.” You perked up at that—those were definitely words that you’d used on your resume. “This interview will be conducted in two segments. The first half will be the group interview—obviously, I’ll be asking you all questions. Feel free to answer them if you feel comfortable, and if you do not, I won’t pressure you. The second half will be a more hands-on project. I’ll be giving each of you an information packet, and will expect a detailed report on it. You’ll be giving those to me at the end of this interview.”

You nodded to yourself—you could totally do this. All it would take is a little concentration and hard work.

“So, first question,” Minhyun said with an eerily charming smile, eyes darting down to the paper in front of him. “What strengths do you possess that will benefit this company?”

You stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror, doing your best to not burst out into tears. Apparently, a little concentration and hard work weren’t the only things necessary when you were the only human in a room of overbearing, obnoxious vampires who refused to do anything except talk over you and interrupt you. For the entirety of the question segment, whenever you’d tried to say something or answer a question, one of the other applicants would rudely interrupt you, and you were incredibly infuriated at how they were treating you.

You glared back at your reflection in the mirror, gritting your teeth. I can do this, you said firmly to yourself.

You pushed yourself away from the bathroom counter and stalked back into the conference room, ready to take on the project portion with a new vigor and willpower.

“Here are your information packets for this next portion,” Minhyun said, gesturing as his secretary handed you five thick bundles of paper. Flipping through it, you noticed it was about a particularly big sale that Empire had made to the government of New Zealand, in which their health care sector had signed a deal to have Empire be their sole supplier—Empire was the leading producer in plastic bags for blood. It was simple information, and would be easy enough to present. “Now, I expect a full report in thirty minutes, starting now.”

“Um, excuse me?” You said timidly, glancing around you. The others had started working already, chatting with each other. “Excuse me?” You tried again, this time raising your voice significantly. The others stopped to stare at you, Minhyun glancing up casually from his tablet, one elegant eyebrow raised to let you know that he was listening. “Do you have a projector I can use?”

One of the other applicants snorted, whispering something under his breath. The others in the room stifled laughter, but you just frowned, unable to know what he’d said due to your sub-par human hearing.

“We can arrange,” Minhyun said simply, turning back to his tablet. You nodded, willing yourself to not cry again as you pulled your computer out from your bag, immediately powering up PowerPoint. You’d show these assholes how reports were supposed to be done.

As your presentation came to an end, the final ‘Questions’ slide fading away, your confidence began fading away as well as you were met by five blank stares. You’d been so confident in your ability to present well, but looking at how impassive Minhyun seemed made you doubt yourself. You’d totally botched the interview, but at least you’d made it that far, you tried to assure yourself as you took your seat, the next person standing to give a quick speech about the report. It was quick and concise—much better than your own presentation. You tried not to sigh as you quickly wiped away a stubborn tear, feeling down and just overall done with the whole thing.

When Minhyun finally let the five of you know that the interview was over and he’d be getting back to you all, you bolted out of there, wanting to run away as fast as possible. The whole thing had been horrible—how cold Minhyun was, how rude the other applicants had been, and how terribly the process had gone. There was no way you’d get the job, and you made sure to let your roommate know this as you collapsed on the couch in your sweats, one hand clutching the remote to the TV, the other supporting a tub of ice cream.

“Sweetie, I don’t think watching TV is going to help you find a different job,” your roommate commented as she watched you stuff a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth. You just glared up at her.

“Let me mope in peace,” you groaned, tugging the blanket further over your head.

“Fine, fine,” she sighed, “oh, by the way, your phone’s been ringing.” She tossed your phone to you before retreating to her own bedroom, and you absentmindedly answered in.

“Hey,” you greeted.

“Um,” a nervous, high-pitched female voice tittered, “is this a (y/n)?”

“Yes, that’s me,” you replied with a frown, wondering if maybe this was some scam sales call.

“Hi, yes, this is Molly from Empire, I just wanted to call you to let you know that you’ve been hired as a salesperson for the Empire Sales Division,” she said excitedly, “congratulations.”

“What?” You shrieked, nearly dropping the phone. There was no way—no way in hell—that you’d gotten the job. “Are you serious?”

“Please hold on a moment,” Molly said, before you heard a couple of muffled sounds, “um, (y/n), I have to ask you to please keep your screams to a minimum, a few of the vampires here are not too pleased with the volume of your voice.”

“Oh, right, right,” you nodded, forgetting that she couldn’t see the gesture over the phone, “oh my god, thank you so much! When do I start?”

“Tomorrow is good,” Molly laughed, “I’ll see you then!”

“Yeah,” you nodded breathlessly—you’d be one of the first humans working at a vampire-run corporation ever, and you could barely contain your excitement. “I’ll see you then!”

“Here’s the desk where you’ll be sitting,” Molly said with a smile, gesturing towards your desk. So far, she had been super sweet and kind with the transition, showing you around the office building first before showing you to your seat. To be honest, you were glad that she’d showed you around the building—with the millions of floors and various departments, you were sure you’d have gotten lost immediately.

“Thank you so much,” you said quietly to her, not wanting to disturb the people around you. “I really appreciate this.”

“It’s no trouble,” she assured you with a smile, placing a hand on your shoulder, “it must be hard, you know, being a human and all.”

You glanced around you as you slowly set your things down on the desk that Molly had set aside for you, acutely aware of the lack of humans in the area.

“Well, good luck on your first day of work!” She said with a smile, patting you on the back before heading back to her own desk. You sighed, powering on your work computer and checking to see what assignments you had.

“Hey, newbie,” you heard someone call, and you turned to see someone standing next to you. “Sort through these, upload the data to the drive. I need it in the next hour.” A huge pile of documents were dumped on your desk immediately following that statement. Your eyes widened as you looked down at your desk, grabbing one of the files and flipping through it. Each file was dense with information that needed to be catalogued digitally, and it would take well over an hour to do so. “Well? Can the little human not work fast?” Your coworker taunted, smirking down at you. You clenched your fist, looking back down at the pile of documents in front of you before turning to your computer, ready to start working.

It was Month Three of working at Empire, and your friends were honestly impressed that you’d made it that far. It was hard, tedious work, and all of your coworkers seemed to hate you for the sole reason that you were a human. Even Minhyun, who was now your boss, was cold towards you. If you were in the elevator with him, he wouldn’t say anything. If you were getting coffee from the break room and he came in, he would bolt.

However, despite how much of a cold asshole he was, there was something captivating about Minhyun. You hated how his cold, empty stares directed towards you made something flutter in your stomach.

“(y/n),” one of your coworkers, Minseok, said sharply, “when’s that shipment leaving the warehouse?”

“Shipment 47 is leaving…” you leaned forward, checking the time on your computer screen, “2:45. It was the extra thick bag shipment.”

“No, Shipment 47 was the regular one,” Minseok retorted with a frown, “your records are terrible.”

“Call the warehouse now and ask them,” you shot back, equally pissed off that Minseok had taken the time to ask you a question, only to criticize you. “I’m positive that Shipment 47 was the extra thick bag shipment.”

“Both of you, quit it, we have a meeting in the conference room in five minutes,” Jaehyung, another one of your coworkers (who was cold to you, but not as cold as Minseok) said with a sigh. You shot a glare to Minseok before collecting your things and heading towards the conference room.

Since you’d gotten to Empire, you’d learned to stick up for yourself. Your coworkers were constantly trying to exert power over you and prove you wrong, and so you’d had to develop a thick skin while working there, but you were determined to succeed. So far, every meeting you’d attended had been a total waste of time. It was like a repeat of your interview for the job—if you started talking, someone would talk over you. If you raised your hand to volunteer an idea, you were ignored. There was really no winning.

“Alright, please take a seat,” Dongho, the slightly more amicable counterpart to Minhyun, said with a smile, handing each person a file as they entered the conference room. You didn’t miss the way his nose wrinkled as you passed him. “Now, as you all know, we’re here to discuss the Ivanov sale.”

“The Ivanov Medical Group is looking to settle on a permanent seller of blood bag shells,” Minhyun said coolly from his position at the front of the room, “this is one of our biggest potential sales—Ivanov has access to every hospital in Russia. If we secure this sale, we secure our retirement funds.”

“And that’s saying a lot for us,” Dongho joked, and the other vampires in the room chuckled. You didn’t laugh along.

“Our issue is that they want to finalize a sale by Wednesday,” Minhyun explained. You flipped open the file, examining the issue. “It’s Monday.”

“We have a couple possible solutions outlined in the file we’ve given you,” Dongho explained, “obviously, we need to make this sale, but there are no plane flights that would get us there in time—everything’s booked. “

“Aw man,” Jaehyung joked, “I’ve always wanted to go to Russia.”

You scanned the file, eyebrows raised. There were a few options—somehow get to Russia by land or boat, try and email the Ivanovs. You chuckled a bit—the solution was so glaringly obvious to you.

“Oh I’m sorry, did you have something to say?” Minseok hissed, drawing the attention to you. You stiffened, raising your gaze to meet his levelly.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” you shot back, standing up, “I propose that you make the sale via internet video call. It’s a simple way to connect with possible buyers face-to-face, and maintains the ‘personal contact’ that this company stresses so much.”

“Yes, dear, well,” Dongho smiled at you as though you were a naïve five year old, and it made you want to punch him. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re vampires. We don’t show up on video cameras.”

“Well gosh darnit, aren’t you real lucky that you have your very own human here to make the sale that could, uh,” you paused to add emphasis, “secure our retirement funds, since that’s saying a lot for us.”

You watched with bated breath as Dongho and Minhyun traded glances.

“Fine,” Minhyun bit out, clearly unhappy with his decision, “don’t let it get to your head.”

“How could I let it get to my head,” you grumbled, taking a seat, “I literally haven’t been given any other sale opportunities.” Next to you, Minseok snorted, reminding you once again of how acute vampires’ hearing was. At the front of the conference room, Minhyun was studying your figure.

“Right, and we would be offering this deal at a 5% discount,” you said smoothly with a smile to the camera, the slightly aging bald man on the other side clapping his hands in joy.

“Wonderful!” He exclaimed, “I’m so glad to have found such a good deal. And from a human seller, nonetheless! All these vampires try to sell to me, thinking they know what’s best for my company, when really, I guess you were all that I needed all along.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Ivanov,” you replied with a grin, “I’ll send you the detailed report as soon as I’m finished with it. It was a pleasure to speak with you.”

“Likewise,” Mr. Ivanov, the head of Ivanov Medical Group, beamed jovially before hanging up the video call. You leaned back in your seat, spinning in it to face Dongho and Minhyun, who had been hovering behind you, invisible on camera.

Dongho congratulated you, and Minhyun offered you a small smile. As you powered down the equipment, you couldn’t help but shiver under the piercing gaze that Minhyun had pinned on you, eyes tinting a strange, almost lighter color than his usual dark brown.

You exited the conference room where you’d been set up, only to be greeted by a hearty back slap from Jaehyung.

“I can’t believe you pulled that off,” he crowed, shaking you around, “that was amazing! I had no idea you were such a good salesperson!”

“I guess you did okay,” Minseok grumbled as you took your seat. After all the insults you’d traded with him over the last couple of months, you’d take that.

For the next couple of days, your name was constantly being repeated around the office, earning you something akin to respect from your coworkers from such a successful—and large—sale. Your coworkers were a lot nicer to you and while you were unsure if you appreciated how long it took for them to warm up to you, you were definitely grateful for the lack of judgmental stares.

Dongho and Minhyun also started sending you on actual sales, which was nice. Most of the time, they sent you alone to any human buyers, since the vampire sellers at the company had somewhat of a hard time selling to humans.

“Oh, (y/n)!”

You were heading into the break room, aiming to refill your coffee cup, when Dongho greeted you.

“What time are you heading out today?” He asked, taking a sip of coffee casually.

“I’m sorry?” you asked, forehead wrinkling in confusion.

“Minhyun didn’t tell you?” he sighed, shaking his head, “the two of you have a large sale later today. Human buyer, which is why you’re going. She’s pretty rich, the aristocrat type, which is why Minhyun is going.”

“Oh.” You were surprised that Minhyun would even entertain the idea of going on a sale with you, “I thought Minhyun hated me?”

Dongho barked out a short laugh, shaking his head, “Hate you? No.” His cell phone chirped with a notification and he pulled it out, quickly reading it. “Oh, that’s him, actually. He wanted me to let you know that the car’s downstairs, and to get your things, I guess he’ll brief you in the car.”

“Um, ok,” your eyes widened frantically as a wave of feeling rushed and hurried washed over you. “Thanks, Mr. Kang!” You hurried out to your desk, throwing the things you thought you’d need into your briefcase before rushing down the stairs, forgoing the incredibly slow elevator all together. When you arrived outside of the building, your blood was pumping, your breath heavy and short.

“You’re late,” was the first thing Minhyun remarked as you slid into the car next to him.

“Well, I didn’t exactly get too much notice, did I?” You retorted. You glanced over at him, about to add another snarky comment when you froze, taking in his appearance. “Mr. Hwang? Are you okay?”

Minhyun’s forehead was beaded with sweat, his skin a pale translucent that revealed dark veins, almost like a piece of tissue paper. He looked like he was in pain, as though it took every ounce of strength to just breath.

“I’m fine,” he bit out, closing his eyes. In a movement so fast that it was a blur, he was rolling down the window, trying to get fresh air. You frowned, wondering if you smelled bad or something. Minhyun ran a shaky hand through his hair as you began to connect the dots.

“Mr. Hwang, have you not fed in a while?” You asked tentatively, eyes fixed on Minhyun, whose eyes shot open, meeting yours.

“No, I have not,” he said sharply, “but that is none of your concern.”

“Um, yes, it is,” you snapped, tugging your sleeve up and thrusting your forearm under his nose. Minhyun breathed in sharply, eyes widening. “Listen, Mr. Hwang, if we get to that sale and the buyer smells particularly good, you might lose it. Is that what you want? Imagine the headlines—‘Top Salesman at Empire Goes Wild; Permanently Traumatizes (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’.”

Minhyun sighed deeply, looking over at you, “you’re sure that you’re alright with this?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” you rolled your eyes.

“And you’re okay with it being so… undignified?”

“Jesus, Minhyun, just do it,” you groaned, waving your arm around a bit more, “we don’t have much time.”

“So you are okay with this?” He asked one last time, checking to make sure that you were alright. While slightly overkill, you appreciated how careful he was to definitively get consent from you, even though you weren’t in a technical Blood Partners bond with him.

Minhyun’s stone cold hand gripped your arm, gently bringing it to his lips. For a second, you felt your heartbeat speed up as his breath ghosted over your wrist, but then something else, something more sensual washed over you as his sharp incisors poked through your skin. You gasped in shock at the sensation—you’d been fed on before, once, but it had been a long time ago, and it was definitely a weird sensation that you had yet to get used to.

It felt like only a couple seconds before he was pulling away, grabbing a tissue from the pocket of the car and holding it to the wound, which was already healing itself, thanks to Minhyun’s vampire saliva.

“Feeling better?” You asked, head slightly fuzzy as you watched Minhyun dab the corners of his lips.

“Driver, I need a bottle of water,” Minhyun said through the partition, accepting the bottle of water that the driver held out and handing it quickly to you. You took long, shaky gulps, still unaccustomed to the sensation of having been fed on. As your head cleared, you couldn’t help but notice the silvery color that Minhyun’s irises had adopted. Obviously, you knew about the phenomena of iris change in vampires, but you’d never seen silver before.

“Wow, your eyes are so pretty,” you blurted out, still a little out of it and feeling hazy. Minhyun frowned, looking over at you.

“What color are they?” He asked casually, brushing the hair out of his eyes.

“They’re this really nice silvery-grey,” you replied, filter completely gone.

“Silver?” Minhyun seemed alarmed with that response, back straightening as he pulled out his phone, presumably texting someone.

“Something wrong?” You asked, leaning over to Minhyun’s side of the car. You felt woozy still, almost as though you’d pass out.

“It’s alright,” he said gently, before patting his shoulder, “you can lean on me, we still have about fifteen minutes until we arrive to the place.”

“Don’t we need to,” you began, words slurring together, “review the material?”

Minhyun looked down at you with a tiny smile, “I think you’ll be okay.

“To a successful sale,” Minhyun said with that small smile of his, holding up his wine glass. You did the same, clinking glasses with him before taking a sip.

The sale had been successful, more so than had been initially projected, and Minhyun had invited you to dinner as a celebratory ‘we did it!’ gesture. Never one to pass up free food, especially free good food, you accepted (and it totally had nothing to do with how good Minhyun looked in his suit that day).

“To be honest, I didn’t think you liked me,” you confessed after the waiter had brought out the appetizers.

“Really?” Minhyun raised an eyebrow, “I’m not surprised—my friends have told me that I tend to have a slightly cold persona. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you in any way.”

“I wouldn’t say I was offended,” you mused, twirling your fork in the appetizer’s sauce, “more just confused. Then again, with how everyone else has been treating me, it didn’t really stick out much.”

Minhyun paused, fork halfway to his mouth, “how everyone else has been treating me?”

You immediately backtracked, not wanting to get anyone in trouble, “it’s nothing, really. I think people just had a hard time adjusting to me.”

Minhyun frowned at that, “why didn’t you say anything? That’s not supposed to happen in the workplace.”

“Good evening, can I take your order?”

You looked up, surprised to see another waiter standing there instead of the one who had originally been serving you.

“Oh?” Minhyun had apparently noticed the same, and looked startled, “What happened to our last server?”

The waiter stiffened and looked down at you, sniffing slightly. “He wasn’t comfortable serving a… bloodbag.”

The way he said the derogatory term made your skin crawl as you gaped at him, completely dumbfounded. You’d never come across a situation like that before, and you had no idea what to do.

“(y/n), we’re leaving,” Minhyun commanded, getting up from his seat, “we’re not giving our business to a restaurant that treats guests like this, and I will be reporting you to the Council.”

“Wait, sir,” the waiter tried to backtrack, obviously regretting his words, “sir, please.”

You scrambled to follow Minhyun as he swept out of the restaurant, clearly upset over the whole incident.

“Minhyun, please,” you sighed as the two of you sat in his car side by side, “it’s really not a big deal.”

“Yes it is,” Minhyun frowned, “people shouldn’t be talking to you like that.” You stayed silent as Minhyun punched in the location of a different restaurant, not wanting to break it to him that his own employees had talked to you like that.

After the (second) dinner you had with Minhyun, he was a lot less cold towards you in the office. He’d greet you in the elevator and bring you a cup of coffee occasionally. The small smiles he’d send to you were enough to set your heart aflutter, and you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Minhyun returned your feelings?

Initially you hadn’t thought much of it, but when your best friend had poured over your texts with him, she’d declared that he was at least flirting with you.

One night, you’d had to stay late to sort through a huge file that had come in a few hours earlier. Sitting at your desk, you wanted to pull your hair out in frustration, barely able to keep your eyes open. Finally succumbing, you got up from your seat and headed to the break room, ready to refill your coffee. As you returned to your desk, full mug in hand, you heard a rustling from Minhyun’s office. You jolted in shock, having not been aware that Minhyun was even there that late. You were about to push the door open to greet him when you realized someone else was in there as well—she was sitting on his desk, neck tilted to the side as Minhyun’s fangs dug into her vein, a look of intense pleasure washing over her face as she moaned.

You hurried to your desk, cheeks bright red at the intimate scene you’d just stumbled upon. While your cheeks were bright red, your heart was dull, a sinking feeling in your stomach. The girl and Minhyun had looked to intimate to be just Blood Partners, and the thought of Minhyun in a relationship with someone made you want to vomit. With a sigh, you turned back to your computer and began typing away.

“(y/n)?”

You automatically looked up at the sound of Minhyun calling your name, standing outside of his office with a confused expression. You’d worked for a couple more hours after you’d seen Minhyun with the girl, wanting to finish with the project before you headed home for the night.

“Oh, Minhyun,” you smiled tentatively, still feeling a bit awkward about walking in on Minhyun like that. “You’re still working?”

Minhyun chuckled sheepishly, “I could say the same about you, couldn’t I?” he asked teasingly, coming up behind you to see what you were working on. As he bent over, one hand on the desk, the other on the back of your chair, you became acutely aware of how close he was to you.

“Just finishing up the Hyunsoo files,” you expalained, clicking over to a different tab to show him the report you’d been working on.

“What do you say we both retire for the night?” Minhyun proposed as he leaned away from you, grinning down at you with a boyish grin that made your heart race. “We can go grab some dinner or something.”

You glanced over to Minhyun’s closed office door with a frown. “I dunno, wouldn’t she be a bit… uncomfortable with that?”

“Who?” Minhyun frowned, glancing over in the direction of your gaze.

You frowned even deeper at that—yeah, you might have had feelings for Minhyun, but that didn’t give him a free pass to act like an asshole.

“Look, Minhyun,” you said, looking up at him. Minhyun glanced down at you, surprise written all over his face. “You’ve been flirting with me for a while now, but I have to draw the line here. I wouldn’t have acted on my feelings like that if I had known you had a girlfriend, and the way you’re acting with me is really out of line, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop.”

Minhyun’s eyes widened. “Feelings? Girlfriend?” He gaped down at you, obviously confused. You grew even more upset at that, frustrated that he was denying it. “(y/n), I don’t have a girlfriend!”

“Well then who the hell was that girl in your office?” You retorted, crossing your arms across your chest, “because you seemed real close with her earlier.”

“Wait, were you here about two hours ago?” Minhyun asked, the smallest flicker of a smile crossing his face.

“Obviously,” you shot back, not in the mood for Minhyun’s more playful side.

“(y/n), Dongho and his girlfriend were in here,” he explained with a grin, “so it wasn’t me.”

“So you don’t have a girlfriend?” You asked, cheeks heating up as you realized just exactly what you’d said in the heat of the moment.

“No, I don’t,” Minhyun smirked down at you, leaning forward a bit so that his face was dangerously close to yours, “but I think I’ve learned enough tonight to be able to do this.” In one swift motion, Minhyun’s soft, cold lips were on yours, an interesting contrast to the feeling of his lips on your wrist. You leaned into the kiss, reaching up to lace your fingers behind his head as the kiss grew deeper, Minhyun gently tracing your bottom lip with his tongue.

When the two of you finally parted, breathless and smiling, Minhyun reached up to gently smooth down your hair, a satisfied smile on his lips.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that for.”

i’M SO SORRY THAT I HAVENT UPDATED IN A WHILE IVE BEEN SO BUSY WITH SCHOOL AND I’M HAVING A FEW PERSONAL ISSUES THAT HAVE LEFT ME A BIT EMOTIONALLY DRAINED BUT I HAVE A THREE DAY WEEKEND AHEAD OF ME SO HOPEFULLY I CAN GET A LOT WRITTEN

also brief allusion to moonstone bc minhyun’s eyes go grey when he drinks the blood n that means that they’re soulmates but i didn’t add that in bc idk i just decided not to but i wanted to make sure that y’all knew that was what that was

#produce 101 #produce 101 imagine #produce 101 scenario #produce 101 oneshot #produce 101 fanfiction #nu'est #nu'est imagine #nu'est imagine scenario #nu'est oneshot #nu'est fanfiction #wanna one #wanna one imagine #wanna one scenario #wanna one fanfiction #hwang minhyun #hwang minhyun scenario #hwang minhyun oneshot #hwang minhyun imagine #hwang minhyun fanfiction

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nyangibun · 7 years

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Jon x Sansa; The Drowned Rat Conundrum

Inspired by this fic.

Summary: Jon meets Sansa one rainy afternoon right after she gets dumped by her girlfriend and he becomes acutely aware of his more than inappropriate attraction to her despite knowing she's not into guys. It only gets worse when Sansa turns out to be as fun to be around as she is beautiful. So, of course, that means Jon's life is officially over and he hates everything.

When Jon meets Sansa for the first time, she’s drenched from head to toe, wearing a large ratty hoodie and black leggings, with mascara smeared down her cheeks. As first appearances go, it’s not great, and considering she’s also sobbing uncontrollably, Jon shouldn’t find her as attractive as he does, but Sansa Stark is beautiful regardless of what condition she comes in. In fact, the drowned rat look is actually sort of cute on her, if she wasn’t crying and if his heart wasn’t breaking just by hearing that sound.

It’s a universally known fact that Jon doesn’t do well around crying girls or women. He’s awkward enough as it is around them when they’re happy. This is uncharted territory. He grew up as an only child with a dead mother, an absentee father and a boarding school full of boys.

But Sansa is crying and she’s standing there on his front stoop looking for all the world like someone had just thrown her puppy into the middle of traffic, so he approaches slowly.

“Um… hello?” Jon says, immediately berating himself for such a dumb opener. “Are you okay, miss? Do you need me to ring someone for you?”

Her eyes snap to his and they immediately narrow with wariness. Even though she’s the one crying in front of his house, Jon suddenly feels like he’s intruding. “Who are you?” she snaps irritably. “Do you live here? Is my brother home?”

“Brother?” Jon repeats, just as sudden clarity strikes him like a jolt of lightning. “You’re Robb’s sister! Sansa? Or is it… Arya?”

“It’s Sansa,” she answers, though still wary.

Well, Jon can’t blame her. Robb is friends with Theon and he’s a creep, so he’d be wary of Robb’s friends too. But the girl is still sniffling and looking sorely in need of something, so Jon raises his hand and gestures towards the door. “He should be home soon. I can make you a cup of tea while you wait?”

Sansa gives a small nod, her expression softening slowly, and as he leads her through the house, gives her a cup of tea (with two spoons of sugar and a good dash of milk), the softness is there in her eyes and lips and it just about takes his breath away.

God, Jon muses to himself. He’s never had such an instant reaction to someone before and he’s still too inexperienced with girls to know if that’s a good or bad thing.

“I didn’t catch your name,” Sansa says after a moment of silence. She’s sitting on the opposite sofa from him with one of the throw blankets wrapped around her. Jon is unbelievably glad that he had thrown it into the wash only a few days prior.

“It’s Jon,” he answers. “Jon Snow. I’m… Well, obviously I’m Robb’s housemate.” He chuckles nervously. “I uh… I also play rugby with him.”

“Oh,” she nods, taking another sip from her mug. “I know you. Robb talks about you.”

“Hopefully good things?” Jon hedges with a smile.

But Sansa doesn’t hear him because she abruptly drops the mug to the coffee table and angle her entire body towards him. “Jon, you like girls, right?”

“What?” He’s too incredulous to answer, and to his horror, his whole body begins to flush just from that question alone.

“I mean you’re into girls, right?” Sansa asks again, a bit more forcefully this time. He nods, which gives her prompt to continue. “Then tell me, tell me why girls like playing games so much. Is it because they’re incapable of committing or is it just me, you know?” Sansa runs a hand through her hair and growls. “We were together for eight months! Eight months. And before that, she knew I was wary about getting back into a relationship but she promised it’d be different. And then she goes and… Well, what kind of person just wakes up one day and says they’re in love with someone else? Who does that!”

Her voice had gotten steadily higher and higher the more she told him, and while he commiserates with her heartbreak, Jon is aware of one thing and one thing only: she’s not into guys. And just like that, what unexpected and unwanted hope that had seeded itself into his mind the moment he saw her wilted and died. Then to add insult to injury, Jon is immediately wracked with guilt because here’s Robb’s sister confiding in him over her girlfriend and all he’s doing is having creepy thoughts about her.

Jon grounds his teeth and forces the thoughts away. He is not a creep. He is not going to get upset because one girl out of a million just happens to fancy girls as well. More power to Sansa for being so open and confident with her sexuality. Right?

God, he thinks, he’s an asshole.

“I… I don’t think that’s exclusive to girls,” Jon says, and immediately regrets it when she throws him a sharp look. He puts up his hands in defence. “Sorry. I just mean… there’s always going to be those people who will come into your life just to break your heart.”

She arches her eyebrow as if to say, ‘what are you on about?’, so Jon continues, stumbling over his words like the idiot that he is.

“What I mean is I don’t want you to… close yourself off. Because that’d be bad, a shame really, and you deserve to be happy. Really happy with someone. So I just wanted you to know not all girls will break your heart. That’s it.”

Sansa stares at him for a beat before she starts chuckling. “You’re really bad at this, you know that, right?”

He rubs his hands over his face and sighs. “I’ve never had to do this before!” he grouses. “Most of the time when one of the lads is going through a breakup, I just take him to the pub and we get pissed.”

“So let’s go.”

Jon drops his hands, and this time, he stares at her for a long second. “What?”

“To the pub,” Sansa says, as she stands up. “Let’s go right now.”

“Don’t you want to wait for your brother?” Jon asks hesitantly, though he stands up as well, realising he’s probably going to be unable to deny this girl anything.

Sansa rolls her eyes. “Honestly, he’s worse than you. I don’t know what I was thinking coming to him.” She chuckles again. “I guess I just thought he might be able to help because he knows Margaery as well, but he’d probably muck it up and I’d just feel worse.”

“Right…” Jon contemplates what he’s about to suggest, but then he decides it’s not about him today, it’s about her. “Pub then?”

Somehow in the months since helping Robb’s little sister drown her heartbreak in tequila, Sansa had become a permanent fixture in his life. She’s always at the house, either to pester Robb into doing something, or she’s in his room quietly studying or watching a film with him. And in that time, Jon finds that Sansa is smart, her wit as sharp as a knife, and she’s also compassionate, warm and loving, with heart far too big for her chest. He is also excruciatingly aware of how attracted he is to her and how utterly off-limits Sansa is. Even if she isn’t only into girls, she’s also Robb’s little sister and friendship or not, Robb would punch Jon in the face for even thinking about her in a way that isn’t platonic. Of course if Sansa is into boys as well, Jon would happily be punched in the face for her, but she isn’t and that’s the biggest problem. He’s crushing on someone he can’t have and it’s making him feel rotten and gross when he knows she only sees him as another big brother.

But Jon supposes he’d still rather have Sansa in his life than not, which is the only reason why he agrees to go to a Halloween party with her where her ex-girlfriend will be, so he can be there for her. In a totally platonic way.

It has to be said though that Jon hates Halloween and so he’s made zero effort in dressing up, which is the first thing Sansa comments on when she sees him.

“You’re not even trying, Jon! What the hell are you even supposed to be?”

Robb snickers by his side, dressed as bloody Flynn Rider from Tangled. But Jon’s too busy trying not to stare at Sansa’s corset-hugging dress that shows far too much cleavage to be conducive to his mental state. She’s Queen Mary Stuart from that historically inaccurate show she loves so much and there’s a red flower crown on top of her head. He’s not sure how anybody is supposed to guess what she is, but she definitely looks like a queen. Jon would certainly ride into battle for her.

“I’m Han Solo,” Jon says with a wry smirk. “Look, I have a gun and this vest thing.” He pulls at the black vest to show her.

Sansa huffs and swats at his arm. “Pathetic. Honestly, pathetic.” She then looks to her brother and pretty soon the two devolve into some age-old argument over the best Disney princes that Jon immediately tunes out.

They walk into the house party, the main foyer already filled with drunk people swaying this way and that, and the bass of some pop dance music reverberates throughout the room. Robb disappears almost as soon as they walk in, apparently to find his date, who is the Rapunzel to his Flynn tonight. And if Jon puts his hand on the small of Sansa’s back, it’s only to guide her through the throng of people towards somewhere they can breathe and maybe find some cups for their drinks. It’s totally not because she’s gorgeous and undeniably the most perfect woman he’s ever met.

“Do you see her?” Sansa hisses to him. “I don’t see her. She’s here though. She posted on her stupid Instagram.” They find the refreshments table just fine and grab two cups to pour their vodka punch concoction. Sansa downs the first drink in record time. “Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn. That’s the couple costume she has with this other girl. It was my idea! Margaery doesn’t even like comics.”

“You don’t either,” Jon points out.

It’s clearly the wrong thing to say because she punches him, hard, on the shoulder. “Well, no, but that’s not the point. Are you on my side or not!”

Jon wraps an arm around her and smiles. “I’m always on your side, Sans.”

Her reciprocating smile is just as fond as his and he wishes more than ever that he could just tell her how he feels. But that, he knows, is a wasted effort and he should probably try harder to move on. No one needs to have their pseudo big brother perving on them.

The night surprisingly is uneventful. Margaery does show up with her new girlfriend an hour into the party and Sansa exchanges pleasantries with them up until they walk away when she hisses to him that Margaery’s new girlfriend makes for a lousy Poison Ivy because ‘she’s not even a redhead, Jon; Arya says that’s blasphemy!’

By one-thirty, Sansa is so drunk he decides to call for a cab and take her home. He’s waiting for her outside of the party when Margaery sidles up next to him with a near-passed out girlfriend in tow.

“Jon, was it?”

“Yeah,” he nods. He’s polite and friendly, but out of solidarity, he tries not to be too friendly.

“Does she know?” Margaery asks, a twinkle of something Jon doesn’t like in her eyes.

He plays dumb. “Know what?”

“That you’re in love with her.” But when Jon doesn’t immediately respond, Margaery continues, laughing. “Word of advice, if you don’t want to tell her, you might want to dial back the longing looks.”

Before Jon has a chance to defend himself, Margaery jumps into a car with her girlfriend and their friends and disappears down the street. He’s still incapable of speaking when Sansa returns and they get into the cab in complete silence. Thankfully, Sansa is too drunk to notice and she passes out, her head resting on his shoulder, a minute into the ride back to his place.

The next morning with much more (sober) clarity, Jon decides Margaery’s right. He can’t keep doing this to himself. Or to Sansa. She’s not into him, and no amount of pining is going to change that. He needs to get over her and to do that, he needs to put distance between them. So with a heavy heart, Jon texts her. Simple and clear.

Hope you’re feeling okay today. Got a few exams and courseworks to work on so gonna be busy for the next month. Will text you the all clear after.

Like he expected, Sansa does text back, but he doesn’t answer. And he knows her so well now that he can predict when she has enough free time to swing by the house and he makes sure he’s at the library when that happens. Of course Jon still sees her from time to time, but the interactions are different. They’re less intimate. She never stays the night anymore; she never just walks into his room and flops onto his bed after a bad day; or ring him in the afternoon to gush about the cute dog she saw on her run earlier. In fact, they’re practically strangers again after a month goes by of Jon actively doing his best to avoid her. He knows he’s obvious and perhaps that’s why she’s distant with him too, like she can’t quite understand what he’s doing but she’s too proud to admit she’s hurt.

It goes on for awhile that even oblivious Robb starts to notice and that’s when it all goes goes to shit.

They’re at rugby training. They only have one last tournament before Christmas holidays, but that’s a whole month away, so they’re just playing an easy skirmish between each other. Robb’s on the opposite team and when the whistle blows and the rugby is passed to Jon, Robb’s there, sprinting and tackling him to the ground with so much force it knocks the wind from Jon’s lungs. He lies on his back, wheezing and coughing, trying to catch his breath, as Robb stands over him with a scowl on his face.

When Jon finally is able to speak again, he jumps to his feet and shoves Robb back. “What the fuck?”

“What the fuck?” Robb repeats incredulously. “I could ask you the same thing! What the fuck are you doing with my sister?”

Jon stares, blinking rapidly, unable to process the question. “What?”

“Why the fuck have you been avoiding her?” he asks. “And don’t give me that bullshit excuse you gave to Sansa because I know you don’t have any big exams coming up.”

He rubs a hand over his face and pointedly ignoring the stares of their teammates around them. “It’s none of your business.”

“She’s my sister!” Robb shouts. “She’s always going to be my bloody business! Now tell me the truth or I swear to god I’ll kick your broody ass, Snow.”

Jon shakes his head and begins to walk off of the pitch. Robb immediately follows and shoves him again when they reach the sideline. Jon stumbles for a bit but gains his balance quickly before turning around. “Stop that.”

“Then stop being a prick and just tell me the damn truth,” Robb says. “And for fuck’s sake, have the goddamn decency of actually breaking up with my sister in person instead of just ghosting her!”

Wait, what?

“I’m not dating your sister…” Jon says, but his words trail off like a question. He’s too dumbfounded by Robb’s assumption to think of anything better to say, like maybe ‘no, they’re not dating,’ and ‘Sansa is into girls, you tool.’

Robb rolls his eyes. “Oh, please. You two aren’t subtle! You’re always staring and smiling at each other and ugh, sneaking off to your room. Did you think I was dumb or something?”

“No, no,” he quickly says. “We’re just friends. It wasn’t like that!” Jon’s head is such a whirlwind, he just completely loses hold of his filter at this point. “Your sister’s not into me like that. Do I wish that she was? Sure. But I never crossed that line with her. What kind of creep do you think I am? I’m not one of those assholes that hit on lesbians just to prove my masculinity or something, alright?”

There’s a long tense pause as Robb continues to glare at Jon before he suddenly bursts out laughing, the slapping his thigh, doubling over kind of laughter too. This only perplexes Jon more.

“What?”

“You’re… a… fucking idiot!” Robb exclaims between laughter. He wipes at the tears forming in his eyes. “My sister is not a lesbian. She’s bi, ya moron.”

“What!” Jon says, eyes growing wide, as his heart begins to ram loudly in his chest. “Why didn’t… why didn’t anyone tell me that!”

“Because you never asked,” Robb points out. “So wait, you’re telling me that you’ve been pining after my sister all this time because you thought she was only into girls?” Jon nods and he laughs again. “Fucking moron.”

“Yeah, yeah, I gathered that,” Jon groans, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Uhuh,” Robb nods. And then he smiles, a devious, terrifying smile before punching Jon square in the jaw. “That was for messing with my sister’s feelings because you’re too much of an idiot to just ask. And that was also preemptive because I assume now you’re actually going to go boink my sister.”

Jon frowns and rolls his eyes. “Did you honestly say boink?”

“Just get the hell out of here!”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Without even telling his coach, Jon runs from the pitch, grabs his bag along the way and hails a cab to Sansa’s despite the fact that he has a bus pass for this very purpose, but the buses are slow and unreliable and he needs to see her right now.

Although it cuts the journey in half, it still takes him ten minutes too long to get to Sansa’s house. But he jumps from the cab and runs up the steps to pound unceremoniously on the door. It’s six in the evening on a Thursday and he so desperately hopes that Sansa is home. She could be out with her friends. When no one answers right away, Jon knocks again, louder this time. He’s about to do so for the third time when he hears movement coming from inside the house.

The door peels open and there standing in a ratty hoodie and black leggings is easily the most beautiful person Jon has ever seen.

“Jon, what happened to your–”

“So I’m a moron,” he cuts her off. “This isn’t anything new, really, but this time, I really, really fucked up and I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t understand,” Sansa says warily. “What happened to your face?”

“It’s not important,” Jon waves off. “I came here to tell you that… shit, okay, I’ve never actually done this before so I’m probably going to muck it up too. But right…” He takes a deep breath. “Sansa, I’ve been mad about you from the first moment I saw you and it drove me crazy that I couldn’t have you because here’s the thing, I wrongly assumed you were only into girls. Not that you being also into boys means I can have you now. If you’re not into me, that’s fine too! And we’ll be friends. If you still want to, that is. I know I’ve been kind of a cock lately and stuff, but I’d rather be friends with you than not, okay? Shit, please just say something.”

There was an imperceptible look on her face, and for a long while, Sansa said nothing. She just stared at him with that impenetrable mask and it was doing a number on his nerves. But finally, with relief and dread, she sighs. “You really are a moron. You should’ve just asked me or asked Robb or asked anyone.”

“I know,” he admits, bowing his head in shame. “I’m sorry.”

“But you know what pisses me off the most?” she says. “It’s not that you just assumed my sexuality without asking, but the fact that you blew me off without ever giving me an explanation. I thought…” Sansa’s voice broke but there’s steel in her eyes so Jon doesn’t dare try to comfort her. “I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. That maybe I did something wrong. I thought that maybe you found someone else, someone better to be with like Margaery did.”

“Jesus, no!” Jon took her hands in his and implored her to listen. “Sansa, there isn’t anyone better than you. Trust me, I’ve looked and no one even comes close. I’m so sorry. I’m so bloody sorry I ever made you doubt yourself. But you have to know you’re the best thing to happen to anyone. You’re… I mean you’re Sansa Stark. You’re… everything.”

A faint smile pulls at her lips and Sansa’s cheeks flush pink. “For someone who’s not so great with words, you did quite well there, Jon.”

“Does that mean you forgive me?” he braves with a smile of his own.

Sansa shakes her head. “Not even close.” But before he even has a chance to feel heartbroken, she throws her arms around his neck. “But now you can make it up to me whenever you want.”

Jon laughs as he wraps his arms around her waist. “Oh, trust me, I won’t ever stop.” And without any further prompting, Jon dips head so he can fully kiss her the way he’s wanted to four months ago.

It’s too early to say those three little words, but the minute his lips press against hers, Jon knows he’s gone. Completely and utterly gone for this girl. And frankly, he doesn’t care one bit. Sansa is his perfect little drowned rat and he’s not letting her go.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #actuallyjonsa #jonsaff #jonxsansaff #jonsa fic #my fics #long post #the ending is shite #idk what this is tbh #but hey ho #bisexual sansa #is my jam #<3

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drscotcheggmann · 7 years

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Pokémon the Movie: I Choose You Review & Wider Reflections

On Sunday afternoon I went to see Pokémon the Movie: I Choose You. As a longtime fan since Generation 1, the thirteen year old boy still hiding inside this now thirty year old man (sometimes not all that well hidden) was nothing short of buzzing; but while excitement was running high as the lights dimmed and the curtain went up, at the same time I wasn’t really sure what to expect. I knew what I wanted: a huge slice of nostalgia; to be transported back to the late 90s, a reminder of when my love for these little monsters was still in its infancy; a warm, tingling Thundershock of a hug from Pikachu and the gang. But would this be what I would get? Would the film alter or even damage my memories of watching the original Animé all those years ago? Getting up early before school, willing to forgo breakfast to make sure I’d watched the latest episode. Some will say “Get over yourself and stop being so precious”, arguing that no matter if good or bad, those golden mornings watching Mew dance across the screen as the ridiculously infectious theme tune rose to crescendo shouldn’t be and can never be touched by watching this one film. Yeah, that’s all well and good in theory but it’s never nice having a half baked reimagining or rehash of something classic seemingly shit all over your childhood. And this was a slight worry because....I’d heard things. That Brock and Misty had been ditched for two other male and female companions. That the movie was only loosely based on the original Animé and might stray from what longtime fans like me might expect. It’s always the longtime fans that feel most entitled, whether it be video-gamers, movie buffs or Pokémaniancs. So as Ash’s Mum comes in to wake her long sleeping son, dreaming of his future adventures in the early hours of his tenth birthday, the weight of expectation was weighing on my mind. But. I’m pleased to say that this longtime, entitled, nostalgia crazed Pokémon fan had nothing but a huge smile on his face when all was said and done. I would go as far as to say that I left the movie theatre, mentally waving my arms in delight, like a Togepi on speed. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t perfect and it didn’t tick all of my own personal boxes but sitting at the end watching the credits roll, I realised that it didn’t have to. Looking around me as the lights went up I realised that it was about more than just me and all of the other Gen 1 superfans sitting there in the semi darkness (and I would wager there were quite a few of us)! Let me explain. WARNING: FULL SPOILERS AHEAD. Something for the Oldies The movie tells a story which is, at its core, rooted in the original Animé. Ash, a regular 10 year old boy living in a world inhabited by Pokémon, dreams of one day becoming the greatest Pokémon Master (yes, the greatest Pokémon master, not trainer). Ever. Like no one ever was (sorry, couldn’t resist). And in this fact alone, the film lavishes longtime fans with nostalgic riches at every turn. From Ash’s frantic dash out of the house (he doesn’t seem to shower at any point before setting off, as noted by my cynical cinema going companion), to those first wonderfully endearing moments of love hate interplay between Ash and Pikachu, it’s all just ‘kid in a sweet shop’, ear to ear smile inducing stuff. Another thing that struck me as a fan from the beginning is that I’ve never seen so many Gen 1 Pokémon in such a short space than in this movie. As Ash tumbles off a cliff into a river clutching Pikachu, a murmuration of angry Spearow in pursuit, a snarling Gyarados darts downstream in what is a near miss for our hapless duo (but at least he has a wash in the river). Pinsir prowl the forests, people can be seen strolling down streets and indoors with their Pokémon at heel. A slumbering Onix is provoked into pursuing our group of heroes. Nidoran of both genders, a Sandshrew and a Paras are all led into a cave to shelter from the rain by a certain legendary dog (more about them later). At one point, I even had to laugh as Ash approaches the summit of the mountain towards the end of the film, only to be greeted by an audience of exclusively Gen 1 Pokémon: Graveller, Venomoth, Golbat, Nidoqueen, Nidoking, Magnemite, Magneton, Electabuzz and Magmar. You wonder if some of these even belong on a bloody mountain but this is the love the filmmakers are keen to show those fans of the earliest generation. A clear message: ‘Here we are! The originals. Back in all our glory again’. And the effect of this is wonderful. I actually began to go through how many of the original 151 Pokémon I hadn’t seen. There were still quite a few but not as many as you’d think. And it’s not only Gen 1 that seems to get that special treatment. Gen 2 is just as lovingly captured. Ho-Oh is the Gen 2 Pokémon at the heart of Ash’s quest in the movie, a quest which was never realised in the original anime but still has its roots there, as Ash spots Ho-Oh flying over the rainbow in the very first episode. But there are others too. The legendary dogs, Raikou, Suicune and Entei all feature, the latter most prominently. When I say prominently I mean this in the most literal sense for Entei - he’s the size of a freakin’ house! There’s even a glimpse of Lugia as the film draws to a close. As a longtime fan it’s great to see all of these guys on the big screen again but I’m also quite honestly glad that the movie did not become an exercise in crowbarring in every legendary Pokémon across the generations, just for the sake of it. Arguably seeing all 3 legendary dogs, who are so incredibly rare that hardly anyone ever encounters them, is a bit much but I was ok with this. It’s not all about the legendaries though; the not so legendary Pokémon spanning all generations are well represented. That first moment when I saw a non Kanto Pokémon alongside a Kanto one and the realisation that this wasn’t a world totally rooted in Kanto. It was great, despite my Gen 1 bias. It really showed how far the Pokémon phenomenon has come over the years and that the filmmakers weren’t afraid to lay out all their wares and risk upsetting those wanting a solely Gen 1 affair. What’s there to be upset about anyway? We all love Pokémon, right? Classic Pokémon from numerous generations are one thing but it’s the set pieces from the Animé that I still remember fondly today and some of these have been reimagined in this iteration of one of Ash’s adventures in Kanto. A clever use of the slightly jazzier (but not necessarily better) theme tune advances Ash’s journey as far as Erika’s Gym, but not before we see him catch his very first Pokémon in the form of Caterpie. We see those initial struggles (and shocks) with Pikachu, the Charmander left out in the rain and Butterfree’s departure to the spawning grounds, presumably to do some spawning with his female companion (can we not even say ‘mating’ anymore?). These set pieces are either bang on the money in terms of paying homage to the original or are slight twists on the original formula (most notably, the Charmander arc). Unfortunately for me, Butterfree’s departure to pastures new didn’t really have the same gravitas here as it did in the original Animé. I think the reason for this is partly due to the time constraints of the movie and that we don’t really get to see Ash’s relationship with Butterfree develop in any sort of meaningful way, except for seeing Caterpie evolve into Metapod and then into Butterfree. The tears flooding down Ash’s face, while they served as a call back to what was a particularly heartbreaking farewell in the Animé, just didn’t have the same punch. But perhaps without a direct comparison, this wouldn’t be an issue at all. Regardless, it’s still a touching monument, showing the deep and lasting bond humans form with their Pokémon; perhaps one of the best outside Ash’s relationship with Pikachu, which shines as brightly as it ever did despite having only 90 or so minutes to show it. And it’s perhaps because it seeks to wow its audience with so many of these individual moments, both past glories and new, that the movie feels a little disjointed in places. At times the action moves on a little too quickly, leaving no room for character development beyond the high octane chase/fight we have just witnessed. Consequently I didn’t feel that the synergy was quite there between Ash, Sorrel and Verity. Marshadow on the other hand is well deployed, being introduced gradually as the movie progresses. I actually thought that using Marshadow as the primary Pokémon antagonist was a good move as opposed to the likes of Darkrai or something a little more obviously evil looking. Marshadow’s ability to seem innocent enough but to pack a few punches when backed into a corner was well done, even if Marshadow isn’t a Pokémon just for the fans of yester year. But this is ok. More on why is coming. Team Rocket make their appearance as you would expect but maybe not in quite the way I expected. If anything, Team Rocket are fringe players here. There is no grand and bombastic entrance with the Team Rocket signature jingle; in fact, I can’t recall a moment when Ash and his friends actually come into direct contact with Jesse, James and Meowth. There doesn’t seem to be much of a grand plan from Team Rocket: they want Entei, then abandon that and go after Ho-Oh but are always thwarted without our heroes ever knowing, either propelled into the air or disappearing off the side of a mountain and always into a glinting star denoting that they might not be back for a while. But they do keep coming back, which is fine, but to no great effect. It’s all a little bizarre and you can’t help but feel, having watched the original Animé, that they could’ve been put to better use rather than simply be made to seem even more ridiculous than they already are. To the movie’s credit though (and this sounds like I’m wanting to have my cake and eat it here), the filmmakers don’t beat us over the head with Team Rocket, as was sometimes the case in the Animé. I remember physically sighing and rolling my eyes at times when Team Rocket would appear and break the flow of a perfectly good episode. The XY Animé moved away from this thankfully but I suppose it was nice to not have Team Rocket dominate, despite also being a tad underused. For longtime fans (or certainly for this one), there were one or two other things missing that, while they didn’t detract massively from the overall experience, just would’ve been nice and not too much trouble to implement. For one, although Ash seems to be largely the same character as I remember, here he comes across as even more gung ho and sure of himself than usual, to the point of actually losing some of the naivety that made him so endearing in the first place. At no point in the film does he whip out the Pokédex, looking confused and saying ‘What’s that?’ as he spots a Pokémon he’s never encountered before. Indeed, there is no Pokédex AT ALL as far as I can remember, just like the one so ceremoniously presented to Ash by Professor Oak in the Animé. There is a smartphone though which Verity uses to take pictures (sigh). Not even Kanto is free from the reaches of modern tech it seems. The lack of Pokédex and ‘what’s that?’ moment made me a little sad as Ash’s confusion was once my confusion, as a 13 year old sitting in front of the TV, pre widespread internet and readily available lists of information, wondering what this new and wonderful Pokémon Ash had just run into actually was. And then running into school to chat wildly with my friends about it - “Did you see this morning’s episode?! That was awesome!” I still remember the original speculation about who the Pokémon at the beginning of the theme tune was and why it wasn’t part of the original 150. Ash’s naivety was mirrored in my own. Don’t get me wrong, Ash is still green around the gills in the movie, pushing Pokémon to their limits at times without fully knowing their capabilities or strengths. But maybe the absence of this wide eyed naivety, even if only a little, struck me so much as I’m not that naive young person anymore. Someone who lives in a different world where information is at our fingertips and there is no excuse for not knowing. I’m digressing slightly here but it did make me think about the then and now. But perhaps the movie’s most striking departure from the Animé is the absence of some key figures. Brock, Misty, Officer Jenny. I understand that maybe 90 or so minutes just wouldn’t be enough time to make Ash’s relationship with Brock and Misty believable, especially when Ash’s relationship with Pikachu should be centre stage. I know that the movie is really only a side quest in Ash’s overarching journey. A snapshot of his travels on his way to glory. But a small cameo would’ve been nice. Fighting a gym battle in Pewter or Cerulean City, especially since the only gym battle we see is beyond this point chronologically and so it’s not a case of Ash having not run into Brock and Misty yet. Ash’s direct rival, Cross left me feeling a little dissatisfied too. What was wrong with good ‘ol Gary. Even though Cross goes from Pokémon masochist to seeing that there’s more to the whole Pokémon thing than ruthless ambition, he’s still a bit of an ass when he goes his own way, despite the fact he owes Ash (and Charizard) his life. The Charizard he abandoned as a Charmander. The bastard. Yeah, he wasn’t my favourite. Let’s leave it at that. Something for the Newbies While you may think that because I’ve spent the last section of this review picking at this bit and that bit and perhaps making unfair comparisons to the Animé days, I just want to reiterate: I loved the movie, imperfect as it was. I loved it for all of my own reasons, some of which I’ve mentioned and some I’m yet to mention but also for other people’s reasons too (bear with me on this one). For as I watched the audience file into the cinema (and I saw absolutely everyone file in, having been über keen in arriving half an hour early), I began to realise that the Gen 1, diehard Pokémon fan wasn’t going to be the only type of Pokémon fan represented. I’m talking about the kids, of course. Kids ranging in age from 4 to 14. The younger ones especially excited to be seeing their favourite Pokémon on the big screen for the first time. One particular Mum and Dad ushered their two young daughters to their seats, one carrying a Squirtle and the other with a Charmander tucked under one arm and an Eevee peeking out of her bag dangling off the other arm. This is a whole new wave of Pokémon fans, all of whom weren’t even born when Ash first set foot out the door and the Gen 1 hype was thriving. And I can’t overstate how much this is a great thing to behold. That the love of Pokémon is still running strong some twenty plus years later. And that’s of course thanks to Pokémon moving with the generations. Literally. I know I’ve been banging on about how wonderfully Gen 1 is represented in I Choose You but in actual fact the movie does a great job of pleasing fans of all generations. If you grew up with Piplup as a starter, you’ll be happy to see that little guy flapping about onscreen; Lucario is perhaps one of the most recent Gen Pokémon to be embraced by both old and new fans alike and he’s here by Sorrel’s side in all of his hard assed glory. And even if you just dived into the world of Pokémon last November with the release of Sun & Moon, there’s plenty to keep you happy here. Marshadow appears and disappears, Cross’s midnight Lycanroc is broodingly evil at all times, and Incineroar, while low down on my favourite starter evolution list, will have younger fans especially bicep flexing and fist pumping in delight. Personally I would’ve loved to have seen Decidueye unleash the full extent of his ghost/grass power, being what I feel is the most impressive starter final evolution in generations but the fight with Charmeleon would then not have been a fair one. Again, to hammer home my slight bias for the original 151, I was glad to see Charizard kick Incineroar’s ass in the end, not just in terms of satisfying the movie’s story but also as a mini victory of Charizard, THE ultimate fire starter Pokémon of all generations for many, over Incineroar, who I feel would look better placed on the side of a cereal packet. Rarrr! That was a bit catty but yeah, he’s just not a favourite of mine but I’m totally fine with these younger generations cheering him on. I did actually force my eyes to leave the action now and again during the screening, as I sometimes do, just to see if everyone else is enjoying the action as much as me. Of course there were the parents, some of them maybe older fans like me but there were an equal if not greater number of bemused parents whose faces seemed to be struggling to grasp what all the fuss was about. But I salute these parents for giving up a chunk of their Sunday afternoon for the sake of their young Pokémaniacs. And what a wonderful sight it was to see this new generation of Pokémon fans hanging on Pikachu’s every ‘Pika’. One little boy stood up through majority of the film, clutching and peering over the empty seat in front, so obviously brimming with excitement. Someone somewhere in the darkness screamed a giddy ‘Pika-pi’ at one point, causing a fair few chuckles. Another child sitting along my row had an expression of pure awe etched on their face the whole time and I can completely understand why: imagine seeing the Legendary dogs for the first time; not just onscreen but EVER. Imagine seeing Ho-Oh for the very first time, gliding over that rainbow; imagine hearing the names Articuno, Zapdos & Moltres, as they were mentioned at the movie’s conclusion, and thinking to yourself ‘I wonder who they are?’ and then rushing out of the cinema to look them up and find out. Oh, to be young again and see it all with fresh eyes. Something for Everyone So far I’ve tried to look at how I Choose You might appeal to the older generation of Pokémon fans as well as the new. But although I’ve painted a picture of distinct camps of Pokémon fans, the movie does a great job of bringing fans from all corners together thanks primarily to its rich visual aesthetic. Everyone can appreciate the sun drenched vistas, rainswept plains, snow capped mountains, billowing clouds drifting over fields filled with flowers dancing in the wind, dense forests and buzzing metropolises so vividly and vibrantly depicted; each area alive with Pokémon just waiting to be discovered, caught and loved. The visual feast starts and continues unabated to the end, never more so than in the Pokémon battles which have never looked sharper and more dynamic. Charizard zooms into the air with a menacing elegance; Pikachu nimbly dodges this way and that, all before landing a thundershock attack of seismic proportions; you can almost feel the flames lick your face as Entei or Incineroar unleash a frightening flamethrower blast; and some of the Marshadow-possessed Pokémon’s attacks land onscreen with the megatonne force of an atomic bomb, or so it seems, also offering a stark contrast between the affectionate side of Pokémon and their über aggressive side when given the chance. It’s all lovely to watch and your senses aren’t allowed a moment’s rest. And that goes for your emotions too. In keeping with the willingness of some of the more recent video game entries in the series to explore powerful and often dark themes, I Choose You also does not shy away from putting its audience through the emotional grinder (the dark lore threads in Sun and Moon are especially worth reading about; I still think about that abandoned Stuffl). There’s neglect (Charmander in the rain), physical pain (Lycanroc biting Cross and not letting go, something that shocked me particularly for some reason), the dangers of greedy ambition (as Ash ponders if Pikachu would’ve won the fight which his Charmeleon just lost). The latter is particularly interesting if we consider the end of the movie; we see Ash finally battling Ho-Oh and the scene cuts to a long shot of the battle taking place from afar, represented by flashes of light on the mountainside. But we never actually find out if Ash managed to catch Ho-Oh or even come close, despite seeing Pikachu looking a little worse for wear as Ash delivers him to the Pokémon Centre after the battle. And this is ok, because we don’t really need to. Arguably, Ash’s greatest adversary isn’t Marshadow or Cross; it’s himself, as he has to put aside all of his own ambitions to save his friends and his beloved Pikachu. Some may perceive this uncertainty over Ho-Oh as quite unsatisfying but Ash’s willingness to let Ho-Oh go might point to him growing and realising there is more to his journey than ruthless ambition. Viewed like this, I find this ending very satisfying and think that had Ash done a pompous and over the top victory dance having caught Ho-Oh, this would not have been tonally in keeping with what we have just seen: everyone escape with their lives narrowly and Ash come back from the dead (or a state of semi death at least in an alternate reality). I’m glad that Ash emerges at the end of the movie better off having not had a moment like this. The Pokémon Centre Lady’s ‘That’s nice’ when Ash tells her they’ve just been battling Ho-Oh is perfect in showing that the result of that battle (caught or not) doesn’t really matter. And, most importantly, Ash seems ok with it too. I would go as far as to say he looks pleased to have had the opportunity to battle Ho-Oh, caught or not and Pikachu having lost. We can see he’s come a long way. Ash’s brush with death is incidentally not the only occasion that the movie is happy with testing its audience. I sat wide eyed as I watched that Luxray found dead in the snow, frozen, trying to protect its infant owner from the fate it ultimately suffered itself. This idea that Pokémon are dispensable yet indestructible; that they can be pushed to the limit with few consequence that a Pokémon Centre wouldn’t be able to fix. With Luxray’s onscreen death, this notion is shattered in an instant and the world the movie seeks to flesh out is made all the more real and believable for it; a tenderness and bond exists between people and their Pokémon which shouldn’t be scoffed at. And, in closing out this section of the review, that bond between person and Pokémon is hammered home no better as Ash and Pikachu part into different worlds, at the tail end of the movie. That moment as they lie face to face and Pikachu speaks. PIKACHU SPEAKS. I actually thought I was hearing things. The minute I saw it I knew this would be a scene to divide opinion. The cynical side of me initially thought this was an easy pull on the heart strings. The Pokémon equivalent of Jack and Rose. But it’s actually much more than this. Having begun watching the original Animé, I’ve been used to Pikachu communicating with Ash by way of facial expression or tonal variations on the same word or half word for nigh on 20 years. But to actually hear what the little guy truly thinks of his partner, that he never wants to leave his side. I’m going to level with everyone reading this. A tear welled up in my eye. The fact that Pikachu never wants to leave Ash’s side wasn’t exactly a revelation I admit but to allow something like this to happen by way of them sharing different realities and one of which being situated a stone’s throw away from death. It was beautiful. It won’t win and Oscar and some won’t think it was anywhere near as impactful as I’m describing. Some will think that it probably wasn’t necessary at all, seeing as a trainer’s bond with their Pokémon seems to transcend language. But, to put forward the most compelling argument for the scene’s inclusion, this is arguably what gives Ash the push he needs to transcend death and push out of that nether realm. Not for himself, but for Pikachu who he would be leaving alone otherwise. Aww man, I can feel the tears coming all over again. Joking (or not) over tears aside, the willingness of the Pokémon universe, both in film and video game media, to engage with what are uncomfortable topics, gives me lots of hope for the future. I still hope for a more adult fan orientated game in which our hero feels like he or she is in genuine peril or at risk of death (I don’t think I fainted once in Pokémon Moon!), a game which makes fans confront real world problems but then allows us to eventually overcome them. I know I’ll be hoping for a long time, as Gamefreak would be unlikely to make such a move and risk alienating such a huge demographic represented by the series’ youngest fans. But, on the flip side, I wouldn’t want this alienation to happen either. The fact that the movie was able to articulate some of these themes and do so in such a way as to make it palatable for younger viewers is a triumph in itself. Those wide eyed children in the audience of my screening were the proof of the pudding and long may it continue. Conclusion I really enjoyed I Choose You. Even though the movie wasn’t perfect, it did one thing really well for me personally: it affirmed my love of Pokémon, as if that really needed any affirmation in the first place. It reminded me just why I fell in love with everything Pokémon in the first place and why that loves has endured until today. The world of Pokémon and the simple but powerful messages it communicates are timeless: that someone seemingly insignificant can achieve great things and make a difference; that we should all step out of the front door and pursue our dreams; that we can rely on our friends and family for support along the way. Never have these messages been more relevant and important than in the shitstorm of a world we live in today and it’s always nice to be reminded that this is the other side of what humanity is capable of, even if that reminder does come from a fictional world filled with fictional creatures. Such is the power of art and fiction. I’ll finish here with a reflection on a scene from the movie which really made me pause and think (to the point where I nearly missed the five minutes of the onscreen action that followed). The scene is when Ash first succumbs to Marshadow’s dark seduction and is taken to an alternate reality where Pokémon don’t exist. He leaps out of bed, a poster on his bedroom wall of a blue car, a red car and a green car in place of Blastoise, Charizard and Venusaur. He’s late to school that day, not for Professor Oak’s lab. Just regular, boring old school. He looks out the window as he sits daydreaming in class , glimpsing Ho-Oh gliding high above, except it’s not Ho-Oh at all but an aeroplane. And when he questions what is beyond the confines of the school fence, we hear something along the lines of: towns, forests, fields, more towns, forests, fields and then the ocean. What is essentially being shown, described and imagined by Ash is a world without Pokémon. A drab, boring and monotone world which lacks a layer of purpose. Quite ironically, this is our reality. Real life. I remember sitting as a kid and thinking that the coolest thing in the world would be if Pokémon were real. To be caught, trained and loved. To some extent a virtual version of this was achieved via Pokémon Go but the initial hype has died down. I knew then, as a kid, and I know now that there won’t ever be anything approaching what Pokémon does in the real world but this scene in a Pokémonless alternate reality got me thinking about the wider implications of this being communicated (and I think intentionally) by the filmmakers. Imagine a world, this shitstorm of a world we live in, WITHOUT something as wonderful as Pokémon, even if they are only virtual monsters living on our screens. This phenomenon which has brought and continues to bring so many people together, be it via the TCG, games or Animé. The phenomenon which was a huge part of my childhood and is something I engage with in some way every single day as a grown man. Imagine if all of that didn’t exist and never had done. It’s a frightening thought and as Ash snapped out of his alternate reality and I came back to mine, I gave thanks for the enduring charm and appeal of Pokémon. The fact that I was sitting in that cinema seat almost twenty years on, still enjoying everything the Pokémon universe has to offer is something that I’m so pleased the film allowed me to experience and feel and give thanks for. Thank you for the memories, Pokémon and here’s to the memories still to be made. My final parting piece of advice: stay beyond the credits. A few shorts, a goosebump-inducing rendering of the initial start sequence to the original Pokémon games on Gameboy and a beautiful piano arrangement of the Pokémon Animé theme tune. A shout out also to @brayshgaming - I hope he particularly enjoyed the Noivern clip but also hope that it isn’t now a regular feature in his nightmares. There is no escape! Thanks for reading guys. Comments on my reflections are most welcome and I’d love to hear some of your own thoughts about the movie. This review was written solely from my memory of watching the movie (and thanks to lots of frantic jotting down of ideas the moment the lights went up, while they were still fresh in my mind). There may therefore be some inaccuracies in here which I cannot yet verify without watching the movie again. Apologies if so.

#pokemontcg #pokemon #ichooseyou #pokemoncollector #pokemonmovie #pikachu

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avengeultrons · 7 years

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Title: Wisdom Teeth Removal (Stark! Reader x Pietro Maximoff)

Summary: The reader has to get their wisdom teeth removed and Pietro is the lucky one who gets to babysit them for the day.

Word Count: 1538

A/N: I love Pietro *heart eyes emoji*! I’m hoping to get a couple of imagines up this week/weekend so let’s all pray LOL. This week has gone by SO SLOWLY; but writing/reading always helps, right? I hope you enjoy!

You tapped your foot impatiently as you watched your dad go through his schedule to see if there was any way that he could pick you up after having your wisdom teeth removed. It wasn't looking too good, “Ugh, I can't, Y/N. I'm sorry,” he sighed dramatically and pretended to be disappointed, “Maybe Clint could?”

Clint nearly sprayed his coffee at this proposal, his eyes widening in both shock and fear. You smiled widely at him, clutching your stomach that was now growling from the fast you had to do, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I can't either, I have this thing to go to that's really important and-” Clint didn't even finish his sentence before grabbing his things and dashing out of the room, leaving you with a bewildered look me a pout on your face. Tony slurped loudly at his coffee while you groaned, sitting next to him at the small dining table.

The fact was; no one wanted to picked up a drugged Stark and deal with them for the day. If you could drive yourself home and keep from eating the gauze in your mouth all by yourself, you would.

You drummed your fingers on the table impatiently, watching the doorway with your eyes peeled as Pietro walked in, “Please, don't say a word to him,” you begged. He seemed to hate you, which made you want to loathe him more.

Honestly, he was the last person you wanted to have pick you up after oral surgery, but your dad was having none of that, “Mr. Maximoff! Pietro, just the man I was looking for. I need you for a special errand,” your father dropped the newspaper he was reading and peered up at him with a wide, scary looking smile. You huffed and slumped in your chair; Pietro taking care of you for the day was the last thing you wanted.

“Oh, really?” Pietro’s eyes lit up, and you immediately felt terrible. Tony began to explain this “special errand” while Pietro’s face fell and he wiped it of all emotion. Probably in an attempt to spare your feelings, “Uh, okay?”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Maximoff. Sorry to spring this on you so suddenly,” your father got to his feet quickly, popping the rest of his bagel into his mouth before speaking, “I’ll see you after, Y/N,” he smiled and gave you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before skipping out of the room, happy that he didn't have to witness your loopy personality.

“Is he serious? This has to be a joke,” he said with a loud, bitter laugh. You sighed, gathering your things before answering, “I really have to babysit you for the rest of the day?”

Being grumpy and hungry, along with loathing Pietro wasn't the greatest combination in the world. Obviously he was as thrilled at the situation as you were, “We’re the same age!” you rolled your eyes at him, throwing a coat on quickly while he stifled his laughter, “See you after the surgery, Maximoff,” you replied blandly, patting his shoulder.

There was a hustle and bustle around the Avengers Facility while everyone awaited for an update from your oral surgery. Wisdom teeth removal was not how you'd choose to spend your days.

Pietro was the most anxious about hearing the news; he couldn't stop pacing and running through the halls waiting for a call. He wasn't ever going to admit it to you or anyone else; but he cared all too much for you to not be nervous about you going into surgery.

It wasn't until Tony peeked his head into the hall that he took this as a sign that you were out of surgery and ready to be picked up, “They just called, she's out,” his shoulders dropped in relief and he scooped up a pair of car keys, sprinting to the car. Tony stared after him while he shook his head, a chuckle escaping his lips. It was so goddamn obvious that he was head over heels for you, it was almost painful!

“You're Pietro?” the receptionist asked over a pair of glasses, an eyebrow raised,“Ms. Stark’s boyfriend?” He gave a nod, his cheeks flushing pink as he decided to just go with the receptionist’s assumption.

“That's me,” Pietro said, his voice wavering. He decided it would be best to go with the receptionist’s idea of who he was rather than argue, even if the word “boyfriend” in the same sentence as your name made his stomach flip.

The receptionist got up and led him to the recovery room you were waiting in, still sleeping. He glanced over at you nervously, a small smile dancing across his lips, “The nurse will be in shortly to go over everything with you,” they gave a swift nod and turned on their heel, leaving the two of you alone.

You woke from your light slumber as soon as the door shut, blinking your heavy eyelids rapidly, “Pietro?” It was a lot harder to talk with a numb, gauze filled mouth than you had expected; your voice came out muffled and hoarse. Pietro looked up from his phone and smiled while you blinked dreamily at him, “You came! Oh, good. I was afraid that no one would. I'm so glad you're here!” You didn't know what you were saying; which only made it funnier for Pietro. He chuckled and gave a nod, sitting next to you on one of the cushioned chairs.

“Of course I came, how else are you going to get home?” he smiled a straight-teethed, pearly white, sparkling smile that would blind people and make Dentists’ heads turn while you reached a hand to your mouth cautiously, your eyes filling with tears, “Hey, what's wrong? Is something hurting?” Pietro was quick to jump to his feet, concern washing over his face.

“Is my tongue gone? It's gone, I just know it,” you attempted a pout, using your hand to jut your lip out. Pietro took hold of your hand to pull it away, “They took it away, didn't they? They filled my mouth with sand!”

“No, your tongue is fine. It's still there, I promise,” Pietro sighed in relief, still holding your hand to keep it away from your sensitive mouth.

“Flowers, chocolate... promises you don't intend to keep,” you sang, your eyes bright and shining with tears that never fell onto your cheeks, “That's from Beauty and the Beast. Can we watch it?” Pietro laughed as you said this, for it was really like babysitting a child.

“As soon as we get out of here, we can watch as many movies as you want,” he reassured you, while you sighed in relief and lay your head on his shoulder. All you wanted to do was go back to sleep.

He tensed at this, but it didn't take long for his face to soften and a smile to flit across his features.

The door of your recovery room opened and a smiling nurse stepped in, hands full of pamphlets and information and instructions that was sure to overwhelm Pietro. You reached your hands up to your cheeks while Pietro talked with the nurse, totally unaware of what you were doing.

“Oh, and she'll need to keep from touching the incisions. That won't be too hard after she fully comes back around, which shouldn't take more than two hours,” the nurse smiled at you while Pietro’s eyes widened and he grabbed ahold of your hands. He helped you to your feet and guided you to a wheelchair while you blinked slowly, your eyelids heavy and begging for sleep.

You were buckled into the passenger seat and watched Pietro walk around the front and sit next to you in the driver's’ seat, “Want to listen to some music?” he asked you.

You nodded, eyes wide with excitement. If only you could remember how much like a little kid you looked in that moment, “Hannah Montana!” you said, your mouth muffled by gauze. Pietro nodded and gave a laugh as he selected Hannah Montana on his phone without making a snide remark or shooting you a glare.

“You're cute when you're not so mean to me,” you said in between dancing to Pumpin’ Up the Party. You bobbed your head to the music as Pietro’s face turned as white as a ghost and his eyes widened. You had no idea what you were saying; obviously.

“Thanks,” he said after a long period of silence, a nervous chuckle that sounded like he was choking following suit, “You’re cute when you're not so mean to me, too. You're a little loopy right now, though. I'm sure you don't mean it,” you giggled as he said it, running a hand over your numb lips.

He groaned and reached a hand over to stop you while your eyes widened, “Keep your eyes on the road!” you said with wide eyes. He laughed and gave a nod while you gave his hand a squeeze, his cheeks turning red.

“Can we get milkshakes? I really want a chocolate milkshake,” you whined, another chuckle escaping Pietro's lips.

He nodded and glanced over at you with an adoring smile, “Soon,” he said.

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robininthelabyrinth · 7 years

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Fic: Trouble on the Way - Chapter 2/4 (Ao3 link) Fandom: The Flash, DC’s Legends of Tomorrow (total AU) Pairing: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart Series: Sequel to Bad Moon Rising Warning: explicit adult content

Summary: It occurs to Len that maybe he’s been willfully ignoring reality when it came to Mick’s new condition. Oh, sure, he’d done the basic research, the public stuff, but he’d been so determined not to make Mick feel like any more of a freak than he already did that he’d perhaps skimped a little on some of the details that were turning out to be more relevant than he’d originally thought.

Time to fix that.

A/N: Will only make sense if you’ve read the first one in the series, as it follows straight on it, but I think the first one is one of my best standalones, so I’m making this a sequel instead

An executive decision was made that (in the spirit of the first one) this series is going to be like a minimum of 70% kinky smut, because we can always use more of that in this fandom, so, uh, mind the full set of warnings on Ao3.

———————————————————————————–

They put their stuff in a car and move to the house on Sullivan, Len keeping an eye on Mick as it gets closer to moonrise. The benefits of being with a pack are definitely showing: Mick's calmer than he usually is, less angry. Normally by this time they would have already locked themselves indoors, Len putting on something for Mick to watch, some documentary or another, and letting him pace and hit the walls until he made a game-time decision as to whether he needed to be locked into a room or if he thought he could handle the transformation free and clear.

Werewolf transformations are only really necessary on the night of the full moon – while humans typically perceive three days of fullness, wolves are more discerning. Sure, they can transform the rest of the time, especially when it’s close, but that’s the only day they really have to. Len’d been playing it cautious and keeping Mick inside for all three whenever he can, purely out of concern for Mick’s temper, but he's been easing up on it as time goes on and, as he’s said, Mick’s in a startlingly good mood this month.

Mick’s also more inclined to find excuses to touch Len than usual, but that happens every month. Probably the social instinct Mick mentioned rearing its head; Len wasn’t stupid enough to let himself into that bank vault with a fully transformed wolf, but the days before and after, he could always count on Mick finding a reason to sit right next to Len or to appear right by Len’s side to help him sit or stand up from any given degree of reclining, no matter how unnecessary the help was. Len’s not particularly surprised to find those tendencies seem to have been amplified now that they're knocking boots in addition to the other components of partnership.

Plus, it means that Mick is happy to take over the majority of the heavy lifting involved in moving their stuff if it means he can hand the box to Len, stroking his hand each time, for Len to actually put into the car. So, really, Len doesn’t particularly mind.

He is a little concerned about the fact that their otherwise unremarkably moving-of-boxes-of-stuff-to-the-car seems to have garnered something of an audience of nosy neighbors, which this neighborhood isn’t particularly known for.

The neighbors - if they are neighbors, which Len's not entirely sure about - are trying to be subtle: a few are leaning on doorways, some are pretending to read newspapers, one is even pretending to be throwing away garbage with almost painful slowness, but Len’s got a sense of his surroundings fine-tuned to unexpected prison fights and he knows when someone is watching him. Staring at him.

Len could take out his gun, but then they’d know for a fact it was Captain Cold they were looking at, and since Len rather likes this particular safehouse, he’d rather not have that get around. So instead he waits until Mick’s gone back inside to grab their coats and turns to stare at the whole lot of them – there’s got to be at least ten – with his best murder-face glare.

He stares at the first one to the far left, waits until the guy looks up and makes eye contact before flinching away, then moves his gaze to the next one, a woman, and then the next one after that, making absolutely certain that they know he knows they’re watching him and trying to convey with his eyes that if they don’t stop, he will find them in their beds and murder them brutally.

Most of them slink away like dogs with their tails between their legs. One just stands and gapes like a dumbass, and Len starts seriously considering going to go punch his lights out when the light bulb goes off and the guy dashes away.

Sadly, that probably has more to do with Mick walking up right behind Len and throwing a casual arm over his shoulders as he effortlessly shoves the box with their coats in it into the trunk of the car. Some people just can’t accept no for an answer without seeing that someone’s already taken, Len guesses, but he’s honestly a little befuddled by the fact that this is happening to him. Sure, Mick’s bigger and stronger and meaner looking, but Len’s no delicate flower.

“That was weird,” Len comments to Mick, sliding into the passenger seat.

Mick shrugs. “It happens even in the best neighborhoods –” By which Mick means the worst and most unfriendly. “– but fuck ‘em.”

Len shrugs and nods his agreement. Assholes like that aren’t worth the time spent thinking about them.

Still. Kinda weird.

“We’re probably going to be inside most of tomorrow,” Mick says, interrupting Len’s train of thought. “It being the moon and all. But after that, we really need to start talking about which safehouse we’d like to stick with more long term.”

“Oh?” Len asks. This sounds like more of the territoriality stuff that hotline Dan had been talking about – something about a desire to show off your place, “acts of territorial display”, which obviously wouldn’t work for the two of them because of the whole criminal-on-the-run thing –

“Yeah, it’s fine if we move around ‘cause the CCPD’s on our tail, but I need a place, one place, that I can say is mine. Somewhere we can really sink our roots down and defend from attack, if need be – old instinct stuff, back when wolves lived in dens. S’why I went to go look at all the safehouses today, but I couldn’t figure out which one would be best. What do you think?”

Len gnaws on his lower lip. Mick needs a place that’s defensible but also comfortable – on one hand, if Mick’s seriously thinking of expanding their little pack of two with some other wolves wandering around, then they’d need a meeting place anyway, somewhere with plenty of space. On one hand, that old bank vault on Thompkins would be useful for controlling anyone with a temper, but on the other hand, they’d need to find a way not to let themselves be driven away from it in the end, because Len can’t even imagine how bad Mick’s reaction would be to losing a place he had declared to be his own territory, and Thompkins Street is in a district that the politicos are always talking about renewing…

Actually, speaking of urban renewal –

“What about Birch?” he asks, naming the little place they’d been staying the day before yesterday, before Len had brought them back to Thompkins with its bank vault instead. It was one of their habitual favorites, being as the previous owner had been some sort of restauranteur and the kitchen took up nearly half the house before the guy had sold it all and moved out of the city – supernatural flight, they called it.

“I took a look there,” Mick admits. “I like the kitchen – four ovens is definitely the right number –”

“No one needs four ovens,” Len immediately says, falling back into the familiar argument.

“And I love the cellar there – do you know how hard it is to find a good sealed-up cellar that can be turned into a freezer room for meat in this city? Harder than you’d think – but it’s only got two bedrooms and one office other than that kitchen. Not really enough room.”

It’d always been enough room for the two of them, plus occasional visits from Lisa to crash in their office, but as Len suspected, Mick’s thinking of expansion.

“Yeah, that place is pretty tiny,” he says. “But we could knock down the walls and expand into the next few houses, one on each side. The place next door has a cellar, too – we could use the one in the main house for keeping your precious meat at the right temperature –”

“Given your theme, Lenny, I don’t think you have any right to complain about something being the right temperature –”

“Shut up. We could use the main house cellar for meat, and the one in the next house over for moons that go bad, especially if we might be dealing with new wolves.”

Mick’s quiet for a long moment, so Len turns to look at him, wondering if he said something wrong.

Mick’s beaming.

“What?” Len asks suspiciously.

“No, nothing,” Mick says. “Just – I’m real glad you’re on board with the pack thing. Real glad.”

“Of course I am,” Len replies, rolling his eyes and turning back to watching the road. “Partners, remember? You want a pack, you get a pack.”

“We get a pack,” Mick corrects.

“Naturally,” Len says. “I’m the boss, remember? I run the best jobs in Central City ‘cause I know how to pick the best possible crews; I’m sure between the two of us we can gather up the best possible pack.”

“The best pack,” Mick says, his voice dropping to a pleased growl. “Yeah, Lenny. We’ll have the best territory, the best pack. You and me.”

Len can’t help a smile, because hell yes, you and me. He pokes at Mick’s arm. “Even if we do end up collecting ourselves a new pack, they’d damn well answer to me,” he says warningly. “I don’t give a flying fuck about any type of werewolf superiority bullshit. My crews listen to me.”

“You’re the boss,” Mick says, but he’s still beaming, so Len figures it’s okay. Mick won’t ever bring anyone into the crew that Len doesn’t approve of. “But at least one person I’m thinking of might have some issues with that.”

Len arches an eyebrow.

“Your sister?”

Len huffs a surprised laugh. It hadn’t occurred to him, but it’s obvious, of course. Naturally Lisa’d be part of their pack. “Yeah, well, I’ll make sure she knows she has to listen to me if she’s gonna stick around,” he says with far more confidence than he actually feels. Lisa’s very much her own woman. But he’s not letting her run around in Central and risk her running into something like what he and Mick ran into, a mad werewolf out for blood; without a Mick of her own, she might end up dead instead of just different. No, Len will definitely have to lay down the law this time around.

Might even stick for more than a week this time, too.

Well, a brother can always hope.

“You know, fights for dominance are considered very attractive in the supernatural arena,” Mick says, and Len tears his focus away from planning the inevitable confrontation with Lisa to look at his partner, who is looks deeply smug for some reason. “Not sure if it’s something tied into the animal or into the supernatural itself, but all the old bullshit about showing off how good you are, how powerful, how clever, how quickly you can put down dissent inside your pack and establish your right to command, all that stuff? Totally a thing, if you know what I mean.”

“Is that why you like all those Animal Planet documentaries?” Len jokes, not entirely sure where this is going.

“Probably,” Mick admits gamely. “I’m just saying that I’m really looking forward to it.”

Len shrugs. Mick being excited about getting to go fight people is hardly news, backed by supernatural instinct or not. He’s not sure why Mick is smiling so proudly at him about it.

Maybe it has something to do with hotline Dan’s line of crap about wanting to “show off” a mate? Mick wanting to start fight over Len is hardly news, either, but Len doesn’t usually give him an opportunity, either because Len’ll put them down first himself or because he doesn’t go out as much as Mick likes. If Mick behaves this full moon – and by behaves, Len means gets Len off already damnit, and ideally not too much property destruction – maybe Len’ll let him take them out to Saints or even to one of the more supernatural bars and Len will start fights and let Mick finish them.

Yeah, that sounds like a plan.

“We can go bar hopping when the moon’s waning,” Len says aloud, nodding to himself. “Saints to meet the Flash, of course, but after that, we can go to the supe bars and start a few fights.”

“I like the sound of that,” Mick growls, clearly pleased.

See, Len doesn’t need magic pancake-making skills to make his partner happy.

“Well, you live up to your promises from yesterday and we’ll have plenty to fight people about,” Len says with a smirk, reaching up to stroke one of the hickeys Mick left high on his throat. You wouldn’t think that people would still be homophobic – there are supernatural creatures running around and they’re still worried about who sleeps with who, which clearly demonstrates the epic stupidity of mankind – but Len finds he rather likes the thought of Mick stepping up behind him and making clear where the marks came from.

Mick whines, high in his throat, and Len realizes he may have said that last bit aloud.

He smirks.

“You’re doing this to screw with me,” Mick says accusingly, mock-scowling at Len.

“One of us got off so far today,” Len reminds Mick. “One.”

Mick goes back to smirking faster than the Flash’s lighting strikes. “Yeah,” he says. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed how good you’re being. For me.”

Len readjusts himself, because he still finds that unbearably hot, and glares. “Better make the wait worth my while,” he drawls, nice and slow and deliberate. “Or else –”

“Or else what,” Mick says, voice abruptly low, lower than human timbres can reach.

Len’s playing with fire and he knows it, but fire is Mick’s element. Len can’t help loving it as much as he loves Mick.

“Oh, nothing,” he drawls, deliberately slouching down and looking out the passenger side window. “I’m not saying anything.”

He lets one hand fall down till it’s high up on his own thigh.

“You’re saying something,” Mick growls.

“What can I say?” Len says with a shrug, rubbing his hand up and down his leg, careful to obey Mick’s instructions not to actually touch himself but coming perilously close. “If you aren’t keeping me satisfied, then –”

Mick literally spins the car off the street with a screech of squealing tires and into a parking spot, reaching out and grabbing a smirking Len in for a kiss the second they’re standing still.

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” Mick growls between kisses, his lips against Len’s, then moving down to lap at the hickey Len’d been stroking earlier, one of his hands falling down to cup Len’s cock through the denim of his jeans. “You little tease.”

Len laughs, his voice a little thready as his hips jerk up only to be caught fast by the seatbelt. “You know you’re the only one for me,” he drawls, but the real affection sneaks in there anyway.

“No one else,” Mick says, trying to sound threatening, but Len’s known Mick too long not to catch the little hint of insecurity underneath. Mick’s always been quietly worried that Len will trade up; he worries that he’s not intellectual enough, not smart enough, not quick enough, too undisciplined, too crazy.

“You’re my partner,” Len says firmly, because he’s never wanted someone else, not as a partner. Mick’s not talking about physical devotion, the sexual relationship that they’ve started on, because as fun as that is, it doesn’t matter; no, Mick’s talking about the important stuff. The stuff you stick around for. It’s not just habit, sticking with Mick, the way Mick sometimes seems to think it is. Mick’s the perfect complement to Len: he’s comfortable with people in a way Len will never be, he’s as good as Len at identifying a mark and even better at making deals, he burns hot but cools down fast, unlike Len’s tendency to keep grudges forever, and he’s strong, inside and out, in a way that would burn Len up inside with envy if Mick wasn’t so good about sharing that strength. So what if he’s not as quick with a quip or doing his figures as someone else might be? “Why would I need anybody else? And anyway –” He lets his voice trail away meaningfully.

“Anyway what?” Mick asks, stroking Len through his jeans.

“It’s not just partners anymore, is it?” Len asks. “It’s mates.”

Len still doesn’t fully understand what that means to werewolves, but he must be getting close to putting his finger on it, because he finds himself up against the window being kissed breathless before he can even blink.

After a second, Mick pulls away, and his eyes are glowing a little, not quite yellow yet but definitely not entirely human, his pupils dilated with lust. “We’re going to the house on Sullivan,” he says, his voice rough. “We’re going now. I made you a promise, and I’m going to keep it.”

Len wants to whine a little when Mick pulls his hands away and puts them back on the wheel – when did Mick develop self-control? Clearly around the time Len totally misplaced his own – so not fair – but leans against the window instead. “You do that,” he says, pleased that his voice remains cool.

Besides, Mick’s right. It’ll be more fun in a bed. Especially that bed.

If they’re going to settle down, Len’s going to have to find a way to get the bed from the Sullivan house moved into the house on Birch, or something like it.

Much to Len’s amazement, they make it to the safehouse relatively intact. Len jumps out to wire open the garage and Mick brings the car in.

“Bring the stuff inside, will you?” Len tells Mick, opting to head inside himself.

He can here Mick grumbling behind him, but also the sound of the car being popped open.

Len smiles.

He’s been enjoying what they’ve been doing so far, and yes, even the obedience to Mick’s orders that he wait to get off, but really –

Mick should know better than to give Len time to plan.

By the time Mick realizes that Len’s not waiting for him downstairs and comes upstairs – probably to bitch about how goddamn lazy Len can be, making Mick do all the work just because he’s a werewolf and has supernatural strength – Len’s in place.

“Fuck,” Mick says, coming to a dead stop in the doorway to the bedroom.

Len doesn’t have a stitch on him, clothing neatly piled in the corner, and he’s lying back on the bed, pillows under his back to prop him up; he’s working himself open with one hand, keeping his legs splayed open so Mick has a great view from where he’s standing.

He can’t quite keep the flush from rising up on his cheeks, though – less from the actual physical stimulation, which he’s been doing more in a utilitarian fashion than in a way designed to get himself off, than from the way Mick looking at him.

Looking hungry.

Len had hoped, of course, that Mick would react positively to his little surprise, but he’s just plain old not used to someone looking at him like that, like Len’s the most delicious thing he’s ever seen. He’s not used to the idea of Mick looking at him like that, those familiar eyes alight with lust and affection, and all of it his.

Yeah. Len’s definitely okay with this whole ‘mate’ thing.

“God, Len,” Mick says, coming towards the bed like he can’t resist. “Look at you. Just – look at you.”

“All yours,” Len says, and watches with pleasure as Mick’s pupils dilate, eyes going a little black with lust. “But you know what else?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re also mine,” Len says, still working his fingers into himself, acts mostly for show as Mick’s eyes are drawn irresistibly down. “Now strip for me.”

Mick swallows hard, nodding and starting to pull his clothing off quickly.

When he’s naked – and god, he’s glorious, naked and hard and wanting, Len’s amazed it took them so long to get here – Len smirks. “Good,” he purrs. “Now I think you made me a promise. Get on the bed.”

Mick crawls onto the bed, leaning in for a kiss, which Len grants him, nice and dirty and messy, before shoving him down onto the bed and crawling over him. “My turn to be in charge,” he tells Mick smugly. “Just like you promised.”

Mick groans and fists the bedspread. “Fuck, Len,” he says. “How are you this perfect?”

“Practice,” Len quips, and reaches out to wrap a hand around Mick’s cock.

Mick lets his head loll back, but he keeps his eyes fixed on Len as Len positions himself and slowly sinks down, grunting with pleasure as he does.

“Len – Len –”

“I like this,” Len says, letting his eyelids drift down, letting the pleasure he feels show on his face. “I like being all filled up with you, stuffed full with your cock – just like I ought to be –”

“Len…”

Len hums a little, then starts moving on top of Mick. “You like it too,” he says. “You’ve been liking it, being in charge, ain’t you? You like how you’ve had me the last day – begging for you, on my knees for you, on my back for you, like I can’t get enough of you – like I’m wanting you, needing you like I need water, like I need air –”

Mick whines, low in the back of his throat. His eyes aren’t black anymore, no; they’re yellow points of light, shining in the dark, the wolf starting to come forward.

“But you need me just as much, don’t you,” Len purrs. His legs are strong enough that he doesn’t need to brace himself on Mick, but he leans forward anyway, lifts a hand and cups Mick’s cheek, kisses him lightly.

“Len,” Mick pants.

“Now, I’ve been letting you call the shots,” Len says, starting to move faster, letting the stretch and burn turn to pleasure. “I’ve been letting you pick me up, play with me, do with me as you like – and you like that, don’t you, like having me at your mercy, like me being available to you, anytime, anywhere – to do anything you want with me, and me loving every minute of it –”

Mick’s eyes are wide and fixed firmly on Len’s face.

“– and I like it, too,” Len continues, lips curling up in pleasure, his eyes crinkling with his smile, his hips moving faster, bearing down on Mick. “I like it when you take charge of me, like it when you give me orders, like how you make me like it, like being at your mercy, ‘cause I trust you to take good care of me, like you ought to – like you do –”

Mick nods dumbly, his hands still fisted into the bedspread, hips jerking helplessly up.

“But there’s one thing you need to remember,” Len says.

And then he stops moving entirely, using his weight to force Mick’s hips still.

“Len!” Mick cries out.

Len smirks and leans forward until they’re only inches apart. “I may like being yours, Mick,” he purrs. “But in the end – I’m the boss.”

It wouldn’t work if Mick really wanted to keep moving, of course; Len’s human strength nothing against the force of the supernatural, but – as he suspected – Mick stops moving the second he realizes that Len isn’t responding anymore.

“Len,” Mick gasps, and oh, revenge is sweet; it’s so sweet. “Lenny – please – you gotta –”

“Isn’t this what you promised me?” Len asks, as innocently as he can manage. It’s not much, to be fair. “You said if I’d be good, if I could wait, I could – how did you put it – you said I could crawl into your lap, and make you give it to me, didn’t you? ‘cause you know how much I need you – how much I want you – and this is how I want you –”

“Len,” Mick says, and his eyes are wholly yellow now. “You don’t understand. It’s too close – the moon –”

“You said we’d be fucking all day,” Len says, though he does take pity on his partner and start moving again, though at a nice slow roll of his hips. “I don’t think the moon’s going to be a problem.”

“It’s not that – it’s the wolf – you don’t understand – won’t be able to keep it down much longer, can’t hold it back –”

“And what made you think I want you to hold back, exactly?” Len drawls.

“Len – I don’t wanna scare you, Lenny –”

And with that, Len’s plans for vengeance – albeit pleasurable vengeance – disappear into the ether.

“Oh, Mick,” Len says, almost tenderly, as close to loving as he can manage with his scarred-up old heart of ice. He reaches out and runs his thumb on Mick’s brow, under his eye; drags it down until it’s by Mick’s mouth, dragging it over Mick’s teeth, both the ones that are flat and human, and the ones that have already lengthened, too long for any man, too large for Mick’s human jaw. “You’re my partner – my mate. You really think there’s anything that’ll scare me away now?”

Mick opens his mouth, but Len leans forward, presses their lips together. He’s not sure why, but the kiss – he’d been aiming for something sexy, but it turns strangely soft, kiss following kiss, Len’s hands coming up to hold Mick’s head, Mick’s hands curling over Len’s hips to help keep his balance.

“I want you,” Len says between kisses. “I want you. You think you’re the only one who’s territorial, huh? Just ‘cause you’re a wolf and I ain’t? Well, I’ve got some news for you, Mick – all that talk about me being yours? It goes both ways. I want all of you – man and wolf, territory and permanent home and new pack, all of it. And you're gonna give it to me.”

Mick growls, and the sound isn’t human, and Len smiles.

Then he grunts as Mick surges under him, hoisting Len up and off of him like he weighs nothing, flipping him until his back thumps onto the mattress, pushing Len’s legs up onto his shoulders and driving back inside.

“Fuck,” Len gasps, the air punched out of him.

“You know just what to say,” Mick says, and his voice is low, guttural – inhuman. “You’re perfect – my mate – stronger than anyone else, because you’re a stubborn little shit that doesn’t know when to stop playing with fire –”

“Nah,” Len says, because he might be being fucked, hard and fast and perfect, might barely be able to draw a full breath because Mick’s pounding into him, causing him pleasure, overwhelming pleasure, but he would never be able to resist a line like that. “I think you’ll find you’re the one who plays with fire – I’m the one with the cold gun, remember –”

“I shouldn’t have told you, earlier,” Mick says, and, fuck, is he getting larger? He is, he’s shifting, bones cracking, and Len didn’t notice it the first time, too busy getting fucked against the wall under the moon, but he sure as hell notices it now, feels Mick swell up even larger, his cock getting bigger and heavier even as he moves inside of Len, his whole body expanding as he lets himself transform. This is what Mick was holding back, why his hands curled around the bedspread instead of Len’s hips – hiding growing claws, no doubt. “About dominance displays, how hot they make me. You know exactly what you’re doing to me, don’t you?”

Well.

Maybe a little.

Len can’t help the grin that steals over his face.

“You fucker,” Mick says, and his yellow eyes shine in his face even as he smiles with a mouth filled with sharp teeth. “You want me to fuck you? I’ll fuck you.”

“Thought that’s what we were doing,” Len says, and groans when Mick pulls out of him, pushing Len onto his side and then his stomach, positioning him the way he wants him like a doll.

Len barely has to time to adjust before Mick’s in him again, Len on his knees and his face pushed into the pillow. He turns his face to the side, and oh, yeah, he likes this.

But he’s still himself.

“You like this position, huh?” he asks, aiming for jabbing and coming out mostly breathless, airy, intensely amused. “Wolves like doing it doggy style?”

Mick laughs. “It’ll be easier for you,” he says, and his voice is smug again, because he knows he’s in charge again, that the balance of power has shifted. Knows that Len loves being at his mercy.

“Oh, it’s all for me, huh?” Len says, moving back against Mick. He’s barely touched himself, but he’s close, he’s really fucking close, and Mick had damn well better get him off, and soon.

“It’s always for you,” Mick says, and leans down close until Len can feel his hot breath on the back of his neck. “You want me, wolf and all, huh?”

“Yeah,” Len says. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then you’ll get it,” Mick says. “I’ll take you the way you’ve been begging me too.” His hands are on Len’s hips. “I was planning on waiting for it, you know, building up to it, prepping you properly, but you always have to move at your own speed, don’t you?”

“Always,” Len says, even though he’s not entirely sure what Mick’s talking about. It’s not like they aren’t already fucking.

“I want you so much,” Mick says, and his voice is deep and perfect and how is he making so much sense? Len can barely think. “I’ve been yours since the beginning, you know that, right? Since before I got bit, and getting bitten only made it worse. I’ve been wanting – I’ve been dreaming of it –”

His voice cracks, just a little.

Looks like Mick’s not that unaffected.

“Wanted you, wanted to do this to you, but never thought you’d let me –”

“Don’t think there’s much I wouldn’t let you do,” Len says honestly, even though he knows it’s a dangerous thing to say. All but offering his heart on a platter, but they’ve already exchanged much more – trust has always meant more than love, to men such as them.

Mick grunts and his hips work faster, and then – finally – he reaches around to Len, starts jerking him off, and god, it’s scarcely even pleasure, it’s relief, it’s –

Mick suddenly surges forward, and stops.

“Mick!” Len howls, because payback is payback, but that’s just not fair – but no, Mick stopped moving, but Len can still feel him, can still feel him –

Growing?

“Mick?” Len gasps, because this doesn’t feel like before, like Mick getting larger as he shifts. This is lower, a swelling at the base, pressing against Len like – he’s not sure, but he’s heard – but no, someone would have mentioned – someone would have said –

Mick nuzzles Len’s neck. “You’re gonna love it,” he says, and his voice is cracked and open, half incoherent with lust. “Gonna love it, Lenny – gonna be begging for my knot –”

Len swallows and his cock jumps a little in Mick’s hand, because his cock is fucking stupid. “You’ve got a knot?!” he asks, because damnit, this is something the stupid hotline really should’ve mentioned!

“Wolf’s got instincts,” Mick says, still nuzzling into Len’s throat. “Got instincts, like I told you – gotta keep you safe, gotta take care of you – gotta make sure I’m the only one – gotta knot you, fill you up, so no one else can come and take you –”

“No one’s gonna take me –”

“Gotta take care of you,” Mick pants. “Keep you full, keep you happy – keep you mine – all my instincts screaming at me, telling me to do good by you –”

“Nice instincts,” Len says, and he’s so close, he’s so close – Mick’s hand is moving on his cock, the other pressed against his stomach, and the knot is so goddamn good, thick and hot and pressing against Len in all the right places, pinning him down and keeping him Mick's, marking him in a way that no human can, that no one ever has before and no one will ever again, and fuck, he’s so close –

“No one’s taking you from me,” Mick growls in his ear. “Never.”

And then Mick’s coming, Len can feel it, and it’s more than it was yesterday, filling him up, until he can imagine that Mick would be able to feel it pushing against his hand – he knows that’s ridiculous, but hell, why not, it’s hot as fuck, and then he’s coming, too, coming on Mick’s fucking knot, and yeah, this is probably going to be a thing to add to his list of stupid kinks – all Mick’s fault, every last fucking one of them –

He practically whites out when the orgasm hits.

When he comes down, Mick’s still big and swollen inside of him, still twitching, still spurting.

“My legs are gonna be useless tomorrow,” Len says, mostly because it gets Mick to whimper and grind his hips in a little bit more. He's not done coming; Len can still feeling him, every couple of minutes, another twitch and another spurt of hot wet heat inside of him.

Len’s pretty sure the knot should be starting to be painful, instead of pleasurable – the way things usually get once you’ve come – but he feels strangely floaty, stretched open and full. It feels good.

Mick buried deep inside of him, tying them together, swollen and coming, again and again – claiming him, filling him –

Fuck it all.

Mick was right.

Len does love it.

#dccoldwave #my fic #leonard snart #mick rory #bad moon rising #werewolves

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