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thekillingjoke-haha · 4 years ago

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YOU ARE WERE MINE

Summary: Sacrifices are often made for the ones we love....even if it might hurt.

Parings: Sam Winchester x Male!Reader, Hinted at Male!reader x John Winchester, and Sam Winchester x Unmentioned girls

Warning?: Bi Sam ,Dean still flirting with reader, No jess death for M/n, Reader is a hunter...and never told Sam, Yellow-eyes, mention(hint at) smut

Sam looked up at M/n with a smile he wore a sexy fireman outfit for the bar outing the yellow shirt looked like it was going to rip if the surprisingly taller male flexed a little too much the red suspenders held up loss fitting brown pants and a axe that leaned on the door frame. "Come on Babe dress up a little." He said tightening the suspenders straps.

"You know I don't like Halloween." Sam sighed as his boyfriend came up to him kissing his cheek with a mischievous smirk. "Too bad guess I can't give you your treat." The h/c man growled nipping his ear as he walked out of their shared bedroom. With a fake pout he chased after him. "If I put on a Halloween shirt will it pass?" He said hopefully putting his arms over M/n shoulder causing him to put his hands on his hips. "Hmmm....If I get to pick the shirt." Sam chuckled and nodded. He'll soon regret that.

Luis was loosing his shit laughing at the shit while M/n smiled proudly at what his boyfriend was wearing it was a plain dark gray t-shirt with the words 'Just the tip. I Promise.' And a knife. "This has to be your best work, N/n." Stephan, M/n best friend, said dressed as a cop high fives the awaiting hand.

M/n gave Sammy a small grin and winked causing him to blush slightly. It was time to celebrate with friends Sam's accomplishment he can wait later to celebrate with Sam his own way.

(Time skip past smexy times~might do it later)

M/n woke up in a empty bed to the sound of a fight he quickly got up in only his boxers to see what was wrong. He knew it was human since he had symbols all under wall paper and floor boards. Turning on the lights he sees Sam and a shorter man next to him "Sammy?" He said causing both of them to look over maybe he should have put on pants eyes raked down his form. "Woah. Hi I'm Dean Rapunzel's older brother. You must be his roommate..." The green eyed man bit his lip looking down south of the s/c man before him. "...I just love Scooby-Doo.~" Dean said keeping his gaze on the mystery machine briefs M/n was wearing. Sam quickly got between both of them pushing his brother back. "Dean this N/n my boyfriend" A confused look crossed his face. "Where's Jess you girlfriend?" He asked. "She was my roommate graduated a year ago and M/n moved in."

Dean looked back at M/n the flirtatious smirk back on his face. "You're way out of my brothers league." Sam put a around his boyfriends waist pulling him close. "Why are you here Dean?" There was a pause of silence. "Dad hasn't been home in a few days." The blonde said before it was shot down. "Let me rephrase. Dad's on a hunting trip and hasn't been home in a few days." With that Sam tensed up and looked over to M/n. "I'll be right back." His tone rushed as he peeked him in the cheek and left their shared apartment brother in tow.

Once the sound of their foot steps were heard going down the stairs M/n sighed his hand running through his bed head. "Fucking Winchester’s." He mumbled before going back up stairs going to his old room. M/n went to the closet moving boxes out of the way till he got to the duffel bag he was looking for. A burner phone weighed heavy in his hand as he wandered back to bed. "If he goes I go." He mumbled to himself looking at the mirror on the nightstand. M/n has been off and on with hunting ever since he started dating Sam and he knew who he was the moment his last name left his lips, but he only put on a smile and gave him his first and middle name since L/n were famous in the community.

Sam came back to the apartment and started to pack a bag. "Sam what's going on?" M/n said innocently as he watched more of his boyfriends clothes fill the bag. "Just going to help look for Dad. Probably just went out with a old friend and didn't bother to pick up." Sam zipped up the bag as he threw it over his shoulder. "You know what's Monday right?! You can't just not show up it's your dream on the line, Babe!" M/n stepped forward slowing down the rushed pace. "I know...you're right and I'll be back on Monday." We walked out of the building. "Promise to call me when you get there." The h/c man said hugging the long haired brunette close. "I promise." With a final kiss goodbye M/n waved him off before going inside. Time to jump back into the L/n family business. Pulling out the burner it rung as the first number was dialed. "I don't give a damn of you are the IRS or girl scouts selling fucking cookies it's one am you idjit!" The familiar voice rung out. "Good talking to you to Uncle Bobby." M/n chuckled and the older man's breath caught in his throat. "Well I'll be damned do my ears deceive me or is that little F/n all grown up?"

"Glad you didn't trash this number."

"What are you calling for boy its still 1am?" Bobby asked.

" I need to pick up my truck. I'm going hunting."

~~~~Time Skip~~~~

Sam sat in the motel room trying to call M/n, but he didn't pick up. If only he knew that right at that moment he was beheading a vampire while laughing like a sadistic prick. After cleaning the blood off and burning the barn that held the nest M/n tried calling back when it picked up he heard Sam's distressed voice. "M/n now is not a good time. I'm so cold hold me" A voice spoke over Sam's. "Who the hell was that?!" I heard a loud hissing noise. "Sam!" That's when a shotgun went off, glass shattered, and the lime went dead. M/n stood up and paced un his room it would be late before he got home he'll have to hall ass to get there before Sam.

Going out to the truck he opened the bed lifting the metal cover and false bottom loading the weapons. He had no time to drop it back off. The road was silent till a voice interrupted it. "Hello, handsome. What's the rush?" Almost swerving into a ditch M/n looked over and saw a man with graying blonde hair. Reaching for a weapon the man's eyes flashed yellow gazing at him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." He snapped causing the h/c make to look straight and push hard into his seat. "You're the little Winchester’s boy toy. Well in two hours he'll be home and dead by the time you arrive." M/n's breath caught in his throat. "Liar. I'm not stupid every hunter has heard what happened to Mary it doesn't take a genius to see they weren't the only one's. You need him alive and well, so why are you hear?" He growled low in his throat as the demon chuckled. "Got me there. You see Sammy boy needs to get back in the life and you being, I don't know, alive is getting in the way." The pressure grew stronger on the restrained man's chest till he almost could feel his lungs squeeze. "But I'm a business man. You work for me you live and maybe see Sam again or die in a blaze and the last thing he sees is your burning corpse. Can't be a protective boyfriend if your dead."

"What will happen to me if I agree?" That's when a sick smile pulled on his lips. "You become a demon. No a demon doesn't possess you! You yourself become one you memories and personality intact. So deal?" He held his hand out to the s/c man as he sighed taking his eyes from the road. "Deal." The demons yellows eyes shined bright as he yanked the young man forward pressing their lips together sealing it. "You are mine." He growled possessively as M/n pulled out his phone and dialed Sam's number. It went to voice mail. "Hey Rapunzel. I want you to know...I love you. Hold on to that, never let that go. You mean the world to me...so once you figure out how to open you voice mail this is waiting for you."

Sam woke up from his nightmare of his burning apartment building. It been almost three years since then and he never gotten over it. It took a year to get to his messages and what M/ n left behind gave him more questions then answers. He couldn't even get into the apartment before the flames erupted. Sam had doubts about M/n in the fire, but after the police report was released only one casualty of M/n Middle/n. Dean tried to tell my it would at some point get better, but the guilt still felt heavy in his chest. Nightmares of M/n in the fire not in pain, but seeming to absorb the flames made him question what really happened. The brothers had a lead on yellow eyes that their dad led them to. It all seemed to convenient that after the fight he knew to much about the demon that pledged his nightmares. The warehouse was falling apart it was in shambles as Dean parked baby next to it. "Are you sure this is the place?" Sam asked his brother. "Dad said this was it. Load up." Dean got out the car popping the trunk. This didn't feel right.

Tied up, beaten, and tortured. The Winchesters look up at their own fathers face with those horrid yellow eyes. "You boys never questioned a thing didn't even hesitate to come inside!" He chuckled darkly as the surrounding demons grinned. "This would have been the part where I laugh at you kill you dragging your sorry souls to hell to be my toys for the next millennium, but I have something better!" Signature Winchester grin lifted his lips as he called out seeming to no one. "Oh, honey bear! Come say hi." The sound of a strong gust of wind came from behind them as the clack of well made dress shoes hit the shifty floor boards. A man wearing black dress pants, shoes, and a open f/c(not black) silk button up. His back was to the brothers as John lifted his head up to kiss the man's cheek. Turning around white eyes looked at them, but that face was unmistakably M/n's a scar on his brow but it was him. Sam was chocked up M/n was in front of him looking well and oh God he's with enemy that took their dad's body as a meat suit.

"Do you like him, Sammy? Hells best torturer!" John said running his hands over M/n as the man kept his gaze locked on the tallest Winchester analyzing him as he seethed with anger at the demon touched his boyfriend. "Oh the things he's done would make Lucifer blush." Yellow-eyes trailed his hand down the scarred chest biting his lip making Sam struggle more. Snapping his fingers the other demons took Dean, but Sam was left there. "You're not useful to me dead Sammy boi." The demon circled him. "What's the best kind of torture, love?" M/n seemed to move for the first time getting right in front of Sam dropping to his knees being face to face with him. Cupping the beaten cheek of the hunter in his s/c hand his white clouded orbs turned the lively e/c giving a sympathetic look before it switched off. "Physiological." Sam didn't notice the room shifted into their old apartment tears pooled in those e/c eyes. "Where were Sammy?" A hiccup in between silent cries ended the sentence as a scene played out of M/n on the phone trying to talk to Sam before it cut off. "I needed you!" A scene of M/n chained to a wall seeing figures of his past hurt him till he gave in. "You were mine. And you threw it all away, threw me away like garbage!" The images went to Sam being with girls, but he could see familiar h/c hair in the background.

Tears rolled down Sam's face as white eyes filled his vision the eyes he loved fading away. What felt like hours happened in only a few seconds and within those seconds Sam was broken. He buried his face into the palm still cupping his cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!' Sam would do anything for his M/n back even if it meant killing the monster his father has become. A gentle kiss stopped the trail of tears. "You are mine."

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Quote= I love you. Hold on to that, never let that go. -The Vampire Diaries

Tagged: @spnquotebingo

First male reader it was fun.

#spnquotebingo #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x male!reader #winchester #male!reader #supernatural x male reader #dean winchester #john winchester #yellow eyes #spn #demons #demon!reader #hunter!reader

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flannels-and-fannypacks · 4 years ago

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Will They Won’t They | Part 1/4 [Reggie Peters]

Pairing: Reggie Peters x fem!reader

Words: 7000

Summary: Reggie and reader were the best of friends up until middle school where they drifted apart and decided never to speak to each other again. What happens when a shared algebra class and a resulting detention force them to spend and increasing amount of time together. Will it be enough to overcome the mutual hate? Or was the relationship doomed from the start.

WARNINGS: swears, spicy dancing, ANGST

A/N: Okay this is the first of hopefully many collabs between Drea and I! We’re both so excited to share out very long baby with you and hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it! - mimi <3

A/N (2): hi babes it’s drea taking over HAHAHA to repeat what mimi said, we are SO EXCITED to collab and work together to create this SUPER ANGSTY but also SUPER FLUFFY AND FUN fic! your feedback is highly appreciated! and if you like our writing, please like, comment, and reblog! we’d love to hear what you have to say! sending my love! - drea :)

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The night was young in your eyes. All the lights in the (L/N) household were off, aside from the nightlight in your bedroom. Despite it being nearly eleven at night, you and your best friend, Reggie Peters, were far from tired.

The soft humming from the radio was all that could be heard from your room, along with the occasional giggle from you or joke cracked by Reggie. You laid on your bed next to him, your legs tangled in the bedsheets. As much as you loved sleepovers with your best friend, you had to admit that Reggie’s growth spurt did not help your cramped situation.

“Your elbow is jabbing my ribs,” you grumbled, kicking Reggie towards the edge of your bed.

The boy only shoved you back, a playful smirk on his face. “You’re just jealous I’m taller than you now, Cookie,” he said triumphantly.

“I’m jealous you’re taking up all the space on my bed, dork,” you shot back, kicking hard enough to push him over the edge. Reggie let out a yelp before hitting the ground, groaning upon the impact. You fell into a fit of giggles as you peeked over the edge of your bed to see a pair of narrowed blue-green eyes and a scowl. “Sorry, Flicka,” you squeaked.

Reggie glared at you jokingly, rubbing his elbow in pain. “No you’re not,” he whispered back.

“Yeah, I’m not.”

You swung your legs over the edge of your bed, standing up to reach -well almost- Reggie’s height. You frowned at his arm, gingerly taking it into your hands. The boy winced upon first touch, but relaxed in your grasp. “Does it hurt a lot?” you asked in a concerned voice.

Reggie shrugged his shoulders. “It’s whatever,” he responded nonchalantly, but the pain in his voice was visible.

You raised an eyebrow at your best friend. “You don’t have to pretend to be all strong and tough,” you reminded him.

The taller boy sighed, a pout adorning his lips. “I know,” he murmured. “But we’re starting middle school soon. I should be ‘all strong and tough.’”

Snorting, you shook your head. “Who cares about that nonsense?” you exclaimed in a hushed voice. “We all feel pain, that’s not a bad thing. Besides, it’s just me, Flicka. You don’t need to put up an act.”

Reggie’s lips turned upwards as he looked into your eyes. Everything just felt right at the moment. The smile on your face. The redness in his cheeks. The moonlight reached the window and illuminated the room. It was perfect.

The radio, forgotten by the two of you, started to play a new song. Your song.

“You got a fast car

I want a ticket to anywhere”

Glancing up at Reggie, you could both tell you were thinking the exact same thing.

“Dance with me, Flicka?” you asked, giving his hands a squeeze.

Reggie’s face burned in embarrassment as you moved his hand to your waist. “I’m not any good at this, you know that, Cookie,” he muttered, resting his chin on top of your head.

You scoffed, starting to sway along to the music. “Just follow my lead, Reggie. I promise I won’t leave you hanging.”

There, the two of you swayed silently to the music. The moon shined bright from your window, making the blue and green in his eyes shine brighter than usual. Reggie watched as you moved your head so that it laid against his chest. You could hear his heart practically beating out of his chest, making you giggle softly.

“Flicka? you spoke up in a hushed tone. Reggie only hummed in reply. You took a deep breath. “Promise me you’ll never leave me?”

Reggie looked out the window, seeing a glimpse of both of your reflections through the glass. “I’d never leave you, Cookie.”

“You promise?” you whispered.

“I promise.”

That was your first broken promise. The first broken promise upon millions. Reggie told you he’d never leave you, that he’d always be your friend.

Funny how fragile promises can be.

That was nearly seven years ago. The late nights spent doing who knows what, listening to the radio seemed like a distant memory from a past life.

Now your days were spent alone in the library, bent over textbooks determined to ace your classes to get a scholarship and go to a good college. You wouldn’t make your parents pay for that. That was asking too much of them.

You weren’t sure where Reggie was, or what he was doing. Once you both were in middle school, he found himself new friends, and apparently a band, too. Even though you weren’t on speaking terms, you had listened to his music every once in a while. You knew he was destined for big things. Those big things just didn’t include you.

But that was fine. Your entire life wasn’t centred around some boy from your childhood. You had school and your family. So, for you, that meant signing up for all the most challenging classes and studying your ass off for all of them.

You didn’t want to admit it but this class was killing you. Your pride always got in the way. Most of the time, you believed you were capable of passing every class with flying colours. But, there was no denying this class was more difficult than the others. How were you supposed to know what effects the Great Depression had on farmers of that era? You weren’t them and they were all dead.

Your tired eyes drifted over to the clock and you sighed as you realized what time it was. Packing your things, you left the library and dragged your feet to your algebra class.

Sitting patiently in the front row while your teacher explained the lesson plan you barely even registered the faint knock on the door frame, but when you turned your head up your expression changed from one neutral to a scowl.

He hadn’t changed a bit. Aside from the whole outfit -he definitely switched his old sports sweatshirts for leather jackets sometime in freshman year- he was the same old Reggie Peters. The same dark hair, piercing blue-green eyes, and rosy red cheeks.

“Um, sorry I’m supposed to be in algebra with Mr. Milenika, I just got transferred.” the dark hair teen said, running a hand through his hair and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Yes, Mr. Peters correct?”

Reggie nodded wordlessly. Your heart was beating out of your chest. Not from nerves, but is pure hatred for the boy. He couldn’t be in this class. He just couldn’t. Why would the universe do that to you?

“Very well, take a seat.”

Reggie walked into the class, eyeing where to take a seat when he noticed the only open spot was next to you.

His features hardened and he threw his bag down next to the empty desk, pulling out the chair and sitting in it with a loud thump.

“Flicka,” you spat.

“Cookie,” he nodded with a hiss in return.

“Great, I take it you two know each other?” Mr. Milenika asked, unaware of the drama that was associated with whatever relationship you and Reggie had. It was a stretch to say you even had one.

You and Reggie gave him a bitter “Yes.”

Mr. Milenika, never one who was ever good at differentiating bitterness and normal answers, beamed at the two.

“Good, because even though this is a math class, I will make you work with your partner quite often. So I suggest you get to know whoever is sitting next to you.” Your body stiffened. As if it couldn’t get any worse, Mr. Milenka never failed to disappoint.

Mr. Milenika continued on, explaining the rest of the plan for the class, but you seemed unable to concentrate, entirely focused on the boy who was now sitting next to you. With his stupid face and stupidly strong cologne, you couldn’t focus at all on whatever was on the board. It was as though you were in a haze, and all you could think about was him.

It had been years since you’d last spoken, not to mention you barely saw him in the halls anymore. He was notorious for skipping class to go rehearse with his so-called band while you were quite the opposite. Never missing a day, no matter what it took.

“Never thought you were one for staring,” he whispered under his breath and you scoffed.

“Oh so we don’t talk for seven years and you think now’s a good time to start?”

“Yeah, I do, cause then I could tell you how stupid those shoes look,”

“I’m literally just wearing converse, you are too Reginald,” you spat.

“Shut up!” he said, raising his voice slightly.

“You first!” you said, voice becoming louder. Was it a childish comeback? Perhaps, but you weren’t one to back down, no matter how stupid your comebacks were.

Now the whole class was listening, even Mr. Milenika had stopped teaching to observe what was going on with his students and just as he was about to intervene it seemed the debate had gotten worse.

“Me? shut up? You’re the one who was always bossing me around and telling me what to do! I could never get in a word with you!” Reggie snapped back.

“That’s because you were too thick-skulled to listen to anything I had to say!” you hissed, not realizing the audience you had. “Who knows Flicka maybe if you had you wouldn’t have failed this class last term!”

“That was uncalled for!” Reggie exclaimed, now standing from his chair. “And it’s not my fault the tutor bailed on me because it was a conflict of interest. This isn’t Judge Judy (Y/N)! If anything it’s your fault!”

“You manipulative little asshole!”

“Suck up!”

“Motherf-,”

“That’s enough!” Mr. Milenika yelled over both of you, causing you to shrink and turn to look at the very angry teacher. “Never in my years of teaching have I seen such barbaric behaviour! That’s two months' detention. Both of you! Now go to Mrs. Hillside’s office, immediately.”

Reggie angrily grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, kicking a stray chair on his way out while you followed close behind in a much quieter fashion.

You had no words as you entered the principal’s office, sitting across from her desk while Reggie took the seat next to yours.

It was your first day back from the holiday. Your first day back and you finally had a conversation with your childhood best friend in seven years and got two months of detention with said childhood best friend. Your heart ached at the thought of the big flaw printed on your record. You only had Reggie to blame.

Purposefully, you shuffled away from him and he rolled his eyes as Mrs. Hillside finished her phone conversation with Mr. Milenika.

“Disrupting a class?” The woman exclaimed. “Foul language? Damaging school property?” Your face burned at each accusation.

Mrs. Hillside glared at you. “Ms.(L/N),” she addressed with a frown. “I did not expect such reckless and irresponsible behaviour from a promising student like you. I’m greatly disappointed.”

Tears threatened to fall from your eyes. “Please don’t make it go on my record,” you whimpered, your voice cracking.

The woman pressed her lips together. “You’re lucky this is your first detention, Ms.(L/N).” You released the breath you had no idea you were holding.

“Kiss ass,” Reggie muttered.

You narrowed your eyes at the boy, prepared to shoot back another comeback when your principal had something far better.

“I find that rich from you, Mr. Peters,” she laughed humorlessly. “Remind me, how many detentions did you have last term?” The boy’s cheek flushed, instantly shutting his mouth. You held back a laugh as to not get a snapback of your own from the teacher. “Now as much as this is infuriating, you both do have a class that I believe would be in your best interest not to miss. So we’ll draw up a schedule for these two months of detention and then you can return to your class in an orderly fashion. You understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” you nodded and Reggie just shrugged, if he blew this for you, well let’s just say there wouldn’t be any evidence of the crime.

“So let’s make this three days a week for two months. Thursday, Friday and Saturday and the hours will vary from time to time depending on the tasks you need to complete.”

“Three times a week?” Reggie exclaimed. “Mrs. Hillside, I have band practice-”

“And I’m losing my patience,” she cut him off. “Now go back to class before I make it four detentions a week.”

You squeaked a quiet “Thank you” before picking up your things and leaving the principal’s office. Speeding down the hallways, you didn’t hear Reggie catching up close behind you. When you saw a blur of black and red in the corner of your eye, you fought the urge to turn your head.

“Stupid Reggie Peters,” you muttered under your breath. “Stupid algebra class. Stupid Mr. Milenka and his stupid detention. Stupid-”

“Are you talking to me, Cookie?” Reggie spoke up, making you jump in surprise. By that time, you were already at the door of your algebra class.

You pressed your binder close to your chest, shooting the boy a pointed glare. “I hate you,” you said, opening the door just enough for you to slip through and slam in Reggie’s face.

You didn’t dare speak when you returned back to class, not wanting to try your luck and possibly extend your already long detention.

Reggie seemed to be thinking the same thing, possibly except he didn’t have his record on the line it was that stupid band practice of his. If he had spent as much time studying as he did practicing maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation because he would have passed the class in the first place.

You knew that you’d need to spend time catching up tonight so you didn’t even bother paying attention to the lesson. Anger bubbled in your chest as you mindlessly wrote notes for the class, not processing anything at all. Occasionally, you would notice a pair of blue-green eyes staring at you, only for them to turn back to the board each time you would look back.

You couldn’t even look each other in the eye. How were you supposed to last two months of detention with him?

Finally, the bell rang and allowed you to escape the confinement that was the loud stares of your classmates as you headed to your first assigned detention. Cleaning up the backroom of the library.

Reaching the library, you were met with the librarian, Mr. Mallard. The old man was hunched over a box filled with books, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. It seemed as though he didn’t realize you were right behind him, so you awkwardly cleared your throat.

Mr. Mallard jumped, turned around to see you nervously waving at him. “Oh, Ms. (L/N), I didn’t see you there.” You waved his comment off.

“Not a problem,” you said with a kind smile. You mentally let out a sigh of relief. Good thing Mr. Mallard was nicer than the rest of the teachers here.

“I was just listening to music,” he explained, nodding at the radio playing soft music. He looked back at you. “You know I used to be a dancer back in my day? Now, I got this bad back, so I’m stuck here with you rascals.” You laughed at the man as he tried to snap his fingers and sway his hips to the music. “Ah, I got too carried away, sorry, dear. Now I must be getting old because I could have sworn there were supposed to be two of you here with me.”

You nodded, looking around for the boy in a leather jacket and red flannel, but came up empty. “He must be running late,” you told him.

Mr. Mallard frowned. “Well, I guess we can wait for him,” he settled, sitting down on his desk chair. “Feel free to take a seat over there until he comes in.”

Reggie came in a few minutes later, tossing his bag onto one of the chairs and placing his bass guitar on the table.

“The usual Mr. Mallard?” Reggie asked and the older man gave him a nod. It seemed Reggie had become familiar with the library as you had, just in a different way. “Well what are you waiting for?” he looked at you unimpressed. “The faster we start the faster we leave.”

You didn’t say a word, only followed him into the back room where you’d be organizing some old books, boxes and trophies

You stepped into the room, squinting at the shadows of assorted boxes. It was completely dark.

“Well, come on, Cookie,” Reggie said, giving you a shove. “We don’t have all day.”

You took in a shaky breath. “It’s dark,” you pointed out.

Reggie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I think we’ve established that,” he said. “Let’s just find the light switch and start cleaning.”

You nodded, blindly searching along the walls for that damn switch. Not noticing the small box on the floor, you kicked it aside, spilling all sorts of books onto the floor. You squeaked in fear, grabbing the first thing in sight. Of course, that had to be Reggie’s hand.

You whipped your head around, face red in embarrassment. Lucky for you the darkness of the room prevented him from seeing that. “Sorry,” you muttered.

Reggie scoffed at you. “Still scared of the dark?” he asked in a teasing voice.

“Still sleep with that horse plushie of yours?” you shot back.

Reggie glared at you but didn’t say anything else. Without letting go of your hand he flicked on the switch and the room filled with a dim orange hue.

“You can let go now,” you said, trying to shimmy your hand away from his, only prompting him to grip harder.

“What are you scared of me now?” he asked with a smirk and you scowled, ripping your hand away from his.

“Let’s just clean, like you said, the faster we get this done the faster we can go home.”

The room was silent aside from the noises of books falling against the floor, making a quiet thud. You made a small area of your own in the back of the room, a stack of boxes hiding your view of Reggie. But from the lack of noises made in his part of the room, you could tell he wasn’t doing anything productive.

You poked your head out of your small space, frowning at the boy. He was sitting on the floor, slouching as he scribbled on a dusty piece of paper.

“Hey!” you called out, throwing an old yearbook in his direction.

Reggie barely ducked in time, sitting up and turning in your area. “What the hell?” he yelled.

“We’re supposed to be working on cleaning this room!” you snapped. “You aren’t doing shit, Flicka.”

“I did clean,” he muttered. “I just had an idea for the band-”

“That stupid band! Why can’t you just stop for once in your life and focus on what’s in front of you,” you scowled, frustrated that even now you were the one stuck doing all the work. Seemed like maybe things hadn’t changed much from seven years ago.

“Maybe if you loosened a screw or two we wouldn’t need to have this conversation,”

“Just shut up Reginald, you have no idea what it means to take responsibility for something. You haven’t changed and you never will.”

Reggie was about to come back with a retort when the door to the backroom swung open and Mr. Mallard came in with a smile on his face.

“Could I get you kids some snacks?” he asked kindly.

“Always, you’re the man Mr. M.” Reggie grinned, completely ignoring you and giving the librarian a high five from where he sat on the ground.

“I’m good Mr. Mallard,” you shook your head and he left you both with a nod of his head and promised to be back with some assortment of fruits and such.

After your first detention, it was safe to say that all hope of fixing your friendship with Reggie went down the drain. It seemed as though every hour you spent with him gave you all the more reasons to throttle him and be glad he stopped talking to you back in middle school.

—

Detentions became just another regular part of your week, integrated with your studying and your part-time job at the cafe. So you were more than happy to take a minute and walk back home where you could take a minute to rest.

Unfortunately, the universe had other plans.

“Reggie!” a voice yelled. You took a deep breath as you tried to make yourself invisible. It was his friends, Luke, Alex, and Bobby. The friends he left you for.

Reggie’s face lit up as he walked past you, running over to his friends. “Hey guys!” he said with a toothy grin. “What are you doing here?”

Luke shrugged his shoulders. “We thought we might as well give you a ride to practice since we were already around here for lunch,” he explained nonchalantly.

Bobby sent his friend a glare. “You mean I gave you a ride,” he corrected, gesturing to the keys in his hand.”

Luke waved his comment off. “Details. Oh, who’s that?” Luke asked pointing over to you and you tried to pick up your pace before he eventually made his way to you.

“That’s just (Y/N),” Reggie shrugged. “We have detention together.” Luke approached you with an overexcited pep in his step. You tried to back away as subtly as possible, but you were stopped by a wall.

“You’re adorable!” he grinned, throwing an arm around your shoulder while you looked at him in a sort of odd confusion. “Your face is so cute and pink, kind of like a bunny! You know, growing up I had this bunny for a pet named Carrot. We’re adopting you, right boys?”

You ducked under his arm, trying to stay as polite as possible. “Oh, I’d love to be your friend and all,” you began nervously. “But um...I just have things to do and-”

“We’re. Adopting. You,” Luke said in a sickly sweet but firm voice. “Right boys?”

As you tried to slip out of his grasp and walk away, Alex, who was also coincidentally your lab partner, called out from the van.

“Hey (N/N), you need a ride?”

“No thanks! I’m fine walking,” you called back, but Luke didn’t want to take no for an answer. He ran up in front of you and scooped you in his arms, throwing you over his shoulder causing you to shriek in surprise.

“We’re taking you with us! Who knows what kind of dangerous types are wandering around LA.”

“At the moment I would think you’re one of them!” you exclaimed, squirming to have him put you down, before finally giving up when he tossed you in the van. “Could this constitute a kidnapping? I feel like it’s a kidnapping. Can I call the police?”

Reggie followed close behind the two of you, clearly not liking this at all. He had already spent enough time with you in detention. Now you’re with his friends? He took the backseat, right behind you. “Dude, come on,” Reggie said as Luke fastened your seatbelt before patting the top of your head. You shot the guitarist a glare. “I really don’t want to be arrested for kidnapping. Especially since it’s her. Lord knows she’ll manage to pin the charges on me.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Nonsense,” he said. “We’re not kidnapping her. We’re making friends!”

“That’s not how making friends works, Patterson!” you yelled as he slid the van door closed.

While they were making their way to your house Luke seemed to glance at the time on the dash and gasped.

“Shit! Guys turn around we’re gonna be late for practice!”

“Practice, you said you were taking me home!” you exclaimed. “This is actually a kidnapping now! Flicka your friends suck!”

“Sorry Lady Bunny,” Luke shrugged and you whined.

Reggie groaned and banged his head on the seat in front of him while Bobby took a definitely illegal u-turn to go where they normally had their rehearsals.

The car stopped in front of a fairly nice house with a big studio. The boys filed out, leaving you grumbling in the back seat. Luke opened the door, bowing dramatically.

“Lady Bunny,” Luke said, reaching his hand out to you.

You scowled at the boy, crossing your arms on your chest. “I want to go home,” you muttered.

“No can do, Lady Bunny,” Luke said with a shrug of his shoulders. “We have practice to do.”

“Then I’ll walk home,” you whined.

Luke laughed at your frustrated face. “Can’t let you do that either,” he told you. “Besides, you’re too little and innocent to brave the world on your own.” Luke reached for your cheek, patting it softly until you turned your head and bit his finger. “Ouch!”

“Yeah, bunnies bite, dick head. This is holding an innocent party against their will and you will do jail time,”

“(N/N), just stick around this once, I’ll make sure you get home later,” Alex offered and you slouched in your seat and mumbled a “Fine,”

Alex patted your back and led you into the large studio where there was a girl with frizzy brown curly hair, sitting on a couch.

“Finally! What took you guys so long!” she sighed and stood up.

“We adopted a bunny, Rose!” Luke grinned and hugged you from behind tucking your chin in his shoulder. You rolled your eyes and mouthed help me, to the girl and she scrunched her nose as if to say, ‘sorry honey there isn’t anything I can do.’

Luke pulled you to the couch and sat you down. “Now you stay there while we practice, okay bunny?” he said, patting your head.

“If you’re good we might give you snacks,” Bobby added from behind Luke, snickering under his breath.

Rose shot both boys a pointed look. “Cut that out, you two,” she ordered. Rose sat next to you, patting your knee. “Can I get you anything? Water? A snack? You don’t have to do a flip for treats or whatever.”

You laughed in response, nervously playing with the hem of your sweater. “I’m fine, thank you,” you responded politely. “If anything I just want a ride home.”

Rose frowned, leaning against the pillow cushions. “I’d give you a ride but my sister took the car for today,” she explained apologetically. Rose could sense the awkward tension, and wanted to break the ice. “So which one of them is your boyfriend?”

You choked on air, not expecting her question. For once, you were thankful the band was blasting music. “I’m sorry?” you coughed, causing Rose to reach over to grab a water bottle from the table and offer it to you. You took a big gulp, sighing. “What made you think that?”

Rose hummed as she thought of her answer. “Well, you’re way too nervous around me,” she began. “And the boys all keep on looking at you. Alex is not your boyfriend because he’s currently talking to this guy in my English class. Bobby...definitely isn’t your type, now that I look at you. I considered Luke for a moment but he’s way too dedicated to music to date anyone but his six-string, you also just seemed way too annoyed by him, but what’s new. And now that leaves Reggie.” she looked over at the boy playing the bass. Reggie, who apparently was watching the two of you talk, quickly ducked his head, his cheeks visibly red. “You two have history, don’t you?”

You froze, eyes widening. “How did you-”

“I think you forgot we were in the same homeroom since fourth grade,” she laughed. “You and Reggie, you guys were glued at the hip. Don’t you have nicknames for each other or something?”

“I-I guess,” you shrugged, it wasn’t really something you used as a term of endearment anymore, but it was still there. “He was Flicka and I was Cookie,”

“Did you date?” she asked curiously, leaning in closer.

“No,” you shook your head. “Just friends. Used to be.” you corrected and Rose frowned, but before she could ask another question you stopped her. “If I have to sit here and wait for Alex to take me home you think we could talk about something else?”

“Sure,” Rose nodded, “Well in that case I think you should come around here more often,”

“What do you mean?” you nervously chuckled.

“I don’t know, I just think we’d be pretty good friends,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders.

You leaned your head on her shoulder, smiling at the warm feeling bubbling inside you. “Yeah,” you agreed in a quiet voice. “I’m starting to think so, too.”

—

“And then he told me I was annoying!” you hissed, angrily scribbling the data of your experiment onto your notebook. “Can you believe that? Him!”

Alex anxiously watched you as you reached for a pipette, squeezing the poor thing like it stole your money. “Really?” Alex only said in a shaky voice.

You nodded furiously, taking the indicator, not even caring to count out your drops and just pouring the purple liquid haphazardly into the Erlenmeyer flask.

“He’s-He’s just a… argh! I can’t stand him!” you waved your hands almost knocking over the whole buret and ring stand with a very strong molarity composition of hydrochloric acid in it causing Alex to let out a strangled yelp from the back of his throat.

“C-can you please at least stay ten feet away from the table?” he requested. “You’re going to either break something or send me to the hospital with an acid burn and I really would prefer if that didn’t happen.”

You placed your materials down, glaring at the blond boy. “What are you talking about?” you snapped, not meaning to take your anger out on your friend (and chemistry experiment, at that).

Alex placed his hands up in the air in defence. “Just-” he swallowed loudly, trying to think of the right words. “Maybe take a deep breath? I know Reggie gets you all angry and stuff, but please don’t put our lives and chemistry grade on the line.”

“Makes me mad is a fucking understatement,” you grumbled.

“Okay, we can start there,” Alex began, slowly moving the materials far away from you. “I think it’s reasonable and incredibly understandable that you dislike him. But do you really hate him?”

You scowled. “Yes, Alexander,” you said in a scarily calm voice. “As a matter of fact, I do. He’s a fucking pain in my ass and can go fuck himself for all I care. He’s rude, inconsiderate, and selfish beyond belief.”

“And why do you think that?”

“Alex, you’re not my therapist, stop acting like you have every right to be in my business when you don’t know a single thing about me!”

Alex didn’t respond to that comment, fearing what you might say next. You paused, noticing Alex’s uneasiness. “I’m sorry,” you only mumbled.

He nodded wordlessly, gently placing his hand over yours. “Don’t worry about it, (N/N),” he reassured you.

Silence followed, aside from the quiet mumbling of instructions for the experiment. Minutes in, you finally decided to break the silence.

“Because he left me,” you whispered in a broken voice.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry?” he said, genuinely not hearing you.

You sighed, placing your pencil and notebook down. “He left me for your stupid band. He got friends and I got nothing,” you explained further. You removed your glasses, wiping away a stray tear. “I probably shouldn’t even be mad at him, at this point. He’s moved on...and got popular and actually has something going on for himself. And me?” You laughed humorlessly at yourself. “I work a job to help mom and dad pay the bills and work my ass off so I can go to school and make a life for myself. No one told me trying for success would be so lonely.”

“(Y/N),” Alex said, frowning slightly.

You shook your head. “But he’s happy, isn’t he?” you asked. “Reggie. He’s smiling wider than I’ve ever seen before. Singing and playing the bass, dancing his heart out on stage. He never used to do those things with me.” You looked away from Alex, unable to take his pitiful gaze. “He’s changed while I’ve stayed the same. I’m stuck here, still moping about my past. Maybe he’s right. Maybe he is better off without me.”

“He’s not,” Alex said without even thinking.

“How could you say that? He’s clearly happier. It’s not like you can pretend you don’t see that,”

“But he’s not. He just replaced what he had, his friendship with you, with music. I might not know him as well as you, but it’s his coping mechanism. It hides all the bad things in life that he chooses not to deal with,”

“Reggie’s not like that,” you shook your head, refusing to believe what Alex was saying.

Alex, starting to get frustrated, slammed his hands on the edge of the table. “Dammit, (Y/N) can you just realize for one second that you don’t hate Reggie and that Reggie doesn’t hate you?” Your mouth remained closed, so Alex took it as an opportunity to push further. “You two talk my ears off about each other more than you realize. It’s always “Reggie did this” or “(Y/N) did that” can’t you two get your heads out of your asses and see that?”

“C-Can you take care of this, I’m just going to run to the washroom,” you murmured, not waiting for a response. You took off your goggles, gloves and lab coat, making your way to the courtyard, contrary to where you said you were going. Pulling your MP3 player out of your pocket you threw on a pair of battered headphones and turned the volume all the way up clicking on the familiar track of Fast Car maybe you couldn’t run away physically, but right now, your heart sure needed a break.

—

“You two will be with Mrs. Leona today in the dance room,”

“What does she need?” you asked with much confusion. Normally Saturdays were used for either sitting in silence or cleaning up some area of the school.

“She needs help choreographing the dance she’s going to use for the sophomore class next semester,” Mrs. Hillside explained. “Now go on, get dressed and meet her in the dance room.”

You and Reggie walked away to the locker rooms. A scowl was plastered on the boy’s face. “These detentions are getting more and more ridiculous each day,” he muttered.

Scoffing, you crossed your arms on your chest. “Well, that’s something we both can agree on.”

You parted ways for a short time to get changed before meeting back up again in the dance room where Mrs. Leona was already setting up and waiting for you both.

“Perfect! So glad you guys could make it,” she grinned.

“We have detention,” Reggie noted. “Not really much of a choice,” You shot the boy a glare, elbowing him roughly in the ribs.

“Right,” she chuckled. “Well, I’m working on a routine for my sophomores. Apparently, they think we’re doing the same thing over and over again so I’m going to give them something new for a change. I was thinking a partner assignment would work best.”

You and Reggie nodded as Mrs. Leona walked over to the stereo, popping in a CD and playing All That She Wants in the background on repeat while she would lead the stretches.

“Isn’t this song a little inappropriate to have sophomores dancing to? Or like even just to play in school?” you asked as you followed along.

Reggie rolled his eyes. “Of course that’s what you ask,” he muttered.

Mrs. Leona waved off your comment. “It’s fine,” she insisted. “It’s an upbeat song, and it’s “in,” so might as well give the kids a fun assignment.”

“Mrs. Leona, what kind of dance moves are you thinking?” Reggie asked curiously. “Because I’m not that good of a dancer and (Y/N) is practically so old she could break her hip by breathing.”

“I’m not old,” you snapped, crossing your arms on your chest.

“You sure act like it,” he shot back.

“You bit-”

“Enough talking!” Mrs. Leona cut you both off. “More dancing. Now I have a couple of ideas for you two, so make sure you’re really stretched out so you don’t pull something.”

You groaned, looking up at the ceiling. “What did I get myself into?”

—

“It’s a simple concept!” Mrs. Leona insisted after the millionth attempt. “You two are just so awkward with each other.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “Can you just explain it again, please?” you requested.

Mrs. Leona sighed, standing up to show you the dance sequence. “Reggie, take her hand and bring it to your lips. Step away, and (Y/N) you pull him back. Then Reggie turn so that you and (Y/N) are facing each other. At that point, you grab him by the shirt while he takes your waist, then he twirls you and goes in to dip you. Simple enough!”

Simple to maybe a Rockette, but not to a bassist and an awkward bookworm.

“Let’s take it from there, okay guys?”

You grumbled to yourself, positioning yourself in front of the boy. “This is way too much,” you muttered, mostly to yourself.

“Just shut up and do what she says,” Reggie hissed. “I don’t want to be any closer to you than I have to.”

When the music started playing, you felt Reggie’s fingertips trace down your arm to your hand, unknowingly creating a trail of goosebumps. Weaving his fingers with yours, he brought your intertwined hands up to his face, his lips ever so gently grazing your hand.

On beat, Reggie started to walk away from you, only for you to pull him back. His eyes met yours as you brought your other hand to his chest, balling the fabric of his shirt in your fist. You watched as he dropped his hand to your waist before pulling away to twirl you. The moment he pulled you back into his chest, you saw his cheeks redden. You were so close, close enough to smell that stupidly distracting cologne of his. You knew Reggie was just as flustered. His hand was getting clammy in yours. Before you could even process it, he dipped you down, making you gasp in surprise.

You didn’t even notice the music had stopped. All that was on your mind at that moment was Reggie. His eyes flicked down to yours, and you could have sworn you saw a hint of a smile on his lips.

The loud clapping coming from Mrs. Leona had snapped you out of your trance. Immediately regaining his composure, Reggie loosened his grip on you. You fell to the ground, hitting your elbow upon impact.

“Ass,” you muttered, rubbing your elbow in pain.

“If you’re saying I’ve got a good one then I agree,” he smirked and you scoffed loudly.

Mrs. Leona walked up to the two of you. “That was probably the best dancing I’ve seen from the two of you all morning,” she applauded. “And for that, you can take a five-minute break,”

“Oh thank God,” you whispered and flopped onto the ground, trying to relax your muscles. You tried to pull one leg over the other, stretching it out, but unable to turn properly in order to pull the tension out of your muscle.

Your eyes were closed so you didn’t notice Reggie coming closer and kneeling toward you, placing a hand on your thigh and pushing it down for you, causing you to open your eyes and see him practically leaning over top of you.

“Ow! Fuck! Too much,” you hissed and he loosened his grip. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Helping you stretch, you’re ancient so I thought I might be able to lend a hand,”

“Get your hand off me,” you said seriously.

“What,” he grinned, lifting his hand higher and causing your breath to hitch and slap his hand away and sit up, scooching back.

“Fuck off Flicka,” you said, the words barely able to leave your mouth, throat turning dry.

“Only trying to help, Cookie,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. He looked over at your arm, seeing as you winced with every movement. “Does it hurt a lot?”

You cradled your elbow. “It’s whatever,” you mumbled in response, unconsciously mimicking his answer.

Reggie scoffed, leaning back on his hands. “Say what you want, Cookie, but I know when you’re lying. You can’t pretend around me.” You paused, vaguely remembering that night with the radio.

“I said I’m fine, Reggie,” you insisted firmly.

“Just let me see it,” he asked, crawling over to you, prompting you to scoot all the way back until you hit the mirror. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he frowned.

“That’s what you said seven years ago but I’ve learnt the hard way to take promises from you with a grain of salt,” you said venomously.

Reggie paused, moving back to his spot, far away from you. “Fine,” he simply said. “But don’t act like you were the only victim. I got hurt, too.”

You opened your mouth to respond when Mrs. Leona walked back into the room with three water bottles. “Well, I’m back. Are you two rested enough to continue?”

You shook your head. “Mrs. Leona, um I think it’s probably time we head back to Mrs. Hillside’s office,” you suggested. “It’s erm, late and I hurt my elbow, so…”

Mrs. Leona nodded understandingly. “Yes, of course, I forgot how much time had passed. You two work so well together, I might as well keep you guys in my class!” You laughed nervously before grabbing your things and waving goodbye. You didn’t bother looking back at Reggie. There was nothing left to say.

164 notes · View notes

honey-dewey · 4 years ago

Text

Sound the Bugle Now

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/Medic Reader

Word Count: 2,658

Warnings: Gore, murder of one animal, medical procedures, big Marcus whump, there’s a gladiator fight, Marcus dies for two sentences, don’t worry he’s fine, this is 99% angst, I’m sorry in advance, I promise it has a happy ending.

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Eight months after the kidnapping of Marcus Moreno, and there’s no news. Everyone’s almost given up until a drone captures a photo of Marcus, and he’s definitely in bad shape. So the heroes make a plan, and that plan is sending you into the thick of it to help poor Marcus. What will happen while you’re in the cell with the missing man, and will he pull through in the end?

“I’m sorry?”

The request seemed crazy, especially coming from Miracle Guy. But he was definitely serious.

“We need you to infiltrate this location and find Marcus,” he repeated.

You took a breath. No one had seen Marcus in months, since he’d been kidnapped on his way home from work. Missy had been with you, as had been instructed in Marcus’s emergency file. She was sad and sullen, but still had hope. “Look. Miracle. We haven’t heard anything about Marcus in literal months. What kind of intel could you possibly have?”

Miracle Guy put a photo up on the projected screen. “That.”

The photo was grainy, clearly taken with a drone camera. It was of an abandoned warehouse outside of town, the roof of the warehouse caved in, allowing the drone to capture the photo. In the circle of rooflessness, you could see two men in a fighting ring, the ground soaked in blood. One man was clearly bigger, and around the ring was a throng of spectators. The smaller man had his hands up, defending himself, but even with all the grain of the photo, you could see that it was clearly Marcus.

“Okay.” You stepped back. “Why me?”

“He’s clearly in critical condition,” Miracle Guy said, pulling the photo down. “We need a medical personnel to go check on him. We’ll send you under the guise of you simply being there to treat him. We intercepted a letter by carrier pigeon, if you can believe it, asking for a doctor for their special guest. We’ll say that’s you, drop you off with a tracker in your bag, and voila, we have Marcus back.”

It was a risky and hole-riddled plan, but it just might work. You suited up the next day, putting on your crisp white coat and loading up your black bag. Adjusting your shoes, you got into the inconspicuous black car and drove off towards the warehouse.

As soon as you pulled up, there were at least six guns on you. A large man with a bunch of tattoos and no hair stepped forward, holding a gun in one hand. You took a breath and gathered yourself, stepping out of the car. “Are the guns necessary?”

The man smirked. “Of course. Who are you?”

You handed over the small letter. “Your doctor. The hero, he needs healing?”

The man took the letter and read it over, eyeing you as he thought. “Fine,” he decided finally. “He’s busy right now. Wanna see?”

It took everything in you to nod as if you didn’t care. The man led you into the building, and you immediately saw the fighting ring. Marcus staggered around, his clothes torn and bloody as he circled with a tiger.

They were making him fight a fucking tiger.

You looked at the man. “Does he fight like this often?”

“Whenever he can,” the man responded, rattling the chain link of the cage and shouting. “Oi! Hero! Finish it already!”

Marcus slipped, nearly tripping. The tiger pounced, and your breath caught in your throat as Marcus weakly grappled with the animal. The man shouted happily, his cries mixing with the crowd’s. Apparently, people were betting on the tiger.

How disappointed they must’ve been when Marcus let out a nasty sob and plunged a jagged piece of metal into the tiger’s heart. He fell limp beside the exotic corpse, chest wracking with sobs. Two men carried him off, and you watched him go with wide and fearful eyes.

The man turned to you. “Isn’t it fun?” He asked.

You shrugged, trying to keep your face emotionless. “It’s interesting. If you want him alive, I should probably see to his injuries. He looked bad.”

“Agreed.”

The man led you down twisting and turning halls before he finally stopped in front of a metal door with a window fitted with bars. He unlocked it and gave you a shove inside.

Marcus was cowered up against the corner, blood pooling across the floor. He looked up when you walked in, and surged forward. In an instant, he was convulsing and backing away, returning to the corner, whimpering as his hands scrambled to claw at something on his neck.

You seethed, feeling rage boil in your blood as the man pulled a remote from his pocket and waved it in front of Marcus, causing him to whine and shy away, pressing himself against the wall even further. They’d outfitted him with a fucking shock collar. Now that you could see and notice it, you saw that the harsh leather of the collar dug into Marcus’s neck, the small black box on the left side of his neck pressing deep against his skin. It was clearly buckled one notch too tight. Eating, breathing, moving his head, it must’ve all been agony for him.

Aside from the collar, to say Marcus was in rough shape would’ve been a gross under exaggeration. He was at least ten, if not fifteen or twenty, pounds lighter than when you’d lost him, his face sunken and sallow, the usual brightness gone and replaced with a sickly pale color indicative of severe blood loss. His lips were chapped to the point of bleeding, his nails nothing more than bloody stubs or missing altogether. His hair was overgrown, greasy and hanging in his face. Even the usual persistent determined shine in his eyes was dull and faint. The conditions of the room, the lack of regulated temperature and light, the heavy smell of vomit and infection, the stains everywhere, nothing was meant to keep him alive. They intended to kill him, but not before they had their fun.

You had to hand it to his captors. They had successfully broken Marcus Moreno.

The man holding you shoved you, and you would’ve fallen flat on your face had your sense of balance not been impeccable. Stumbling and using the wall to keep upright, you glared at the man. “If you want me to fix your broken hero,” you said coolly. “The collar has to go. I can smell the infection from here.”

The man sneered, but he pressed a key card to Marcus’s collar. It beeped, signaling that it could be taken off.

Immediately, you rushed to Marcus’s side, worry replacing every other emotion you had. “Oh Marcus,” you breathed, just looking at his body. “What did they do to you?”

You helped him upright, guiding him to the metal tray you suspected he slept on. It reminded you, with a chill, of the rolling trays you kept bodies on in a morgue.

Marcus shivered as you lay him down, grabbing your bag and digging through it to find your shears. The heavy duty blade was technically meant for surgical procedures, but for now, they chewed through the thick leather of the shock collar with ease. You knew you could just take the collar off, but on the off chance that the man had tricked you, you weren’t about to try it.

Removing the collar led to a host of new challenges. The prongs had burned into Marcus’s skin, leaving two identical wounds that oozed and smelled like burnt flesh and infection.

Trying not to let Marcus see your worry, you continued to catalog injuries, finding severe bruising across his whole body, a few spots where injuries had been left to fester, and a rattling cough that worried you.

You determined a course of action, immediately setting Marcus up with high strength painkillers and a few travel machines that would keep watch on his vitals. The last thing you wanted was to perform CPR on his purple and blue chest.

Running a finger down Marcus’s ribs, you sucked in a breath. He was skin and bones, malnourished to a point where you wondered if he’d ever regain all the weight he’d lost.

“Talk to me,” Marcus croaked out, surprising you. “Please.”

You nodded, tackling the worst of the injuries, the infected burns on Marcus’s neck. “Missy’s been staying with me,” you said softly, putting on gloves and pressing gently against the wounds, face pinching when Marcus suppressed a whine. “She’s good, misses you of course. Anita visits on the weekends and we play board games together.” As you talked, you gave Marcus a hefty dose of infection cream, hoping it would work on the persistent infection until Marcus could be treated properly. Putting a thick bandage on the wound, you moved on to gently treating his other infected cuts in a similar manner, each one just a bit better than the last.

“I can’t do much for these bruises,” you said, running a light finger over a bruise that spanned most of Marcus’s left hand while you wrapped his missing ring fingernail. “Or that cough you’ve got. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Marcus rumbled. “You’re here, aren’t you? And you’re gonna get me out.”

You smiled tightly. “Yeah.” All you could hope was that the tracker in your bag was still working and that the team was on their way. “Here, I’ll get you a blood bag. I don’t like that color on you.”

Marcus grinned, sleepy and lazy. “What do you mean? I think bloodless grey is a perfect color on me.”

That managed a chuckle out of you. “Brink of death, and you’re still making jokes,” you murmured, grabbing a blood bag from your supplies and putting it beside the painkillers. “Hey, you’re bleeding,” you said, eyes snapping to the side of Marcus’s head, where blood was slowly trickling down his ear. He turned, laying his left ear on the metal tray so you could examine his head. He looked past your body, staring at the blank wall behind you.

You parted the hair above his ear, trying to find the source of the bleeding. Thankfully, it wasn’t a hard find. A small scratch that looked worse than it actually was. A few stitches and he’d be good to go.

“Alright, my favorite part of field work,” you said. “Miracle Guy cried last time he had a head wound.”

Marcus snorted. “Wish I could’ve seen that,” he said wistfully.

You smiled. “Maybe next time. Hold still.”

Marcus watched you as you dug through your bag and produced a small foldable straight razor. It was shoddy and unsteady work, but with a bit of water, some gritty soap, and your deep breathing to keep your hands steady, you got a clear patch above Marcus’s ear, exposing the wound and thankfully not giving him any new ones.

“Okay,” you said, mostly to yourself. “A few stitches. Then we’ll be good to go. Still hanging in there?”

Marcus swallowed thickly and gave you a wavering thumbs up while you threaded a needle. Of all the pain he’d been through, stitches with no anesthesia would be mild.

As you worked, you continued doing what had always kept you grounded during field work. Listing injuries. You needed to know them all for when the heroes arrived and asked what was wrong, how could they help? You slowly started at the top of his head and worked down. A likely concussion, the stitches in his head, the black eye, the split lip, the still oozing wounds that stank of infection in his neck, the scrapes across the raised bumps of his collarbones. So many injuries, and you’d not even gotten below his shoulders yet. You didn’t know what he’d been exposed to here. Was he sick? If so, what did he have? The cough and the rattle in Marcus’s lungs was bad, definitely some kind of upper respiratory infection. His temperature was higher than you’d like, at an even 100. A fever, but not a severe one. His lymph nodes were nearly unfindable amongst the mess of injuries on his neck, but you had no doubt they were swollen.

Marcus’s coughing broke you from your thoughts. You stopped cataloguing, focused now only on the heave of Marcus’s chest. “Marcus? Do you feel okay?”

More coughing, and then it finally died, leaving Marcus heaving for air. He trembled, and you sighed. The rescue team couldn’t get here fast enough.

Unable to do more, you sat back and held Marcus’s hand, trying to rub some color into the almost lifeless skin. Marcus’s stuttering breaths were the only sound, and you tried not to get discouraged.

You had no idea how much time passed before a shout made you jump to your feet. That was a familiar shout. Miracle Guy.

“We’re in here!” You yelled, rushing to the door and pressing yourself to the bars. “Miracle! Please!”

He appeared before you as if you’d summoned him, suit a bit wrinkled, but otherwise unharmed. “Did you find him?”

You nodded, standing back so Miracle Guy could take in Marcus’s state. He was frozen for a few seconds before he blinked and started waving to people down the hall. “The paramedics are here. They’ll keep him safe.”

It took all your willpower not to fight the paramedics as they carted Marcus’s limp body away. His eyes lazily opened when they stuck him with a frighteningly large needle, and he whined, tearing up when they started to move him.

“I know,” you said, smoothing over his dirty and overgrown hair. “I know. Stay strong. Think of Missy. She’s waiting for you.”

Marcus chose that moment to pass out fully, but that was optimal in this scenario. You followed the paramedics out, numbly stepping over bodies and ignoring the blood seeping into your socks. You were wearing Marcus’s blood from fingertips to waist, a little more wasn’t any worry.

The other heroes helped you recover, cleaning you up and praising you. Missy hugged you for half an hour, every minute filled with tears. You were numb to it all. Nothing could help you now.

Marcus was in critical condition for three weeks. His heart stopped twice, and he needed surgery after surgery to even start to reverse the damage done. Finally, once he’d stabilized, he was allowed visitors.

You and Missy were first.

Marcus looked over as you entered. His eye was no longer swollen and some color had returned to his skin. He was still underweight, but no longer looked skeletal. His head had been completely shaved, and beneath the bandages, you could imagine where they’d had to cut into his skull at one point. His neck, the area you’d been most concerned about, was wrapped in thick bandages, but a nurse had told you they’d finally begun to see improvement in the infection. He still looked terrible, but he was no longer on death’s door.

“Dad,” Missy said softly, stopping in the doorway.

“Missy.” Marcus’s voice was weak, but just that one word was so full of love. “Hey.”

Missy sat on the edge of Marcus’s bed, eyes full of tears. When he raised his arms, she collapsed against him, crying.

You sat silently in a chair, trying to find words that would be appropriate. Missy fell asleep against Marcus, his arm loosely around her shoulders while she slept.

“So,” he finally said. “Thank you. They said you saved my life. Your field work was the deciding factor.”

That, surprisingly, only made you feel worse. “Yeah,” you said softly. “Yeah.”

Marcus’s face knit. “You look worried.”

You shrugged. “I-“ you still had no words. “I dunno,” you finally decided on saying. “What’s retirement like?”

Marcus chuckled. “Fun,” he said. “They’re talking about releasing me in a few months, after I do physical therapy and my weight stabilizes. They said I’d need a properly trained assistant to be with me at all times until I was in good health again.”

“That might be never.”

“Yeah,” Marcus agreed. “So I guess I’d better really like that nurse.”

You smiled. “You better.”

“Would you do it?”

You thought it over. “Yeah.”

A grin split Marcus’s face. “Good. We’ll get through this together.”

Standing and sitting on the edge of the bed, you nodded, smoothing a hand over Missy’s head. “Of course. Together.”

#we can be heroes #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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amphtaminedreams · 4 years ago

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Sitting Front Row at...(On a Budget Obvs): Lookbook no.15

Hey to anyone reading!

And welcome to my fave lookbook I’ve done in a longggg ass time! Yes, that’s partially because it involved making collages and doing the low effort work of scouring Vogue Runway for “research purposes”, but I promise, that statement wasn’t made out of COMPLETE laziness-I am super happy with it too. It’s been a good use of pre-part-lockdown-lift time in the interim between that brief period of Christmas celebrations and eateries finally fucking opening again because let’s be honest, I always knew I was gonna get distracted by oat milk vanilla lattes and veggie all day breakfasts once I could actually sit down with them at my fave local cafe. You could say I was very much operating on a self-imposed deadline.

The “what I would wear to sit front row at...[insert designer here]” TikTok/Instagram reel trend was something I wanted to get on board with ever since I first saw one and whilst the option of doing my own live action take-I really cannot bear the thought of having to edit footage of myself awkwardly attempting to sit nonchalantly in front of a camera for hours on end-was off the cards considering my complete lack of screen presence, I decided a Tumblr text post would work just as well, and if not even better in a way. Given the absence of the time limitations you face when you’re making a reel or a TikTok I thought it’d be cool to present the looks as part of a mini moodboard for each designer which adds a bit of context to each look even if you aren’t familiar with their past collections and establishes the general vibe of the brand I’m attempting to replicate. Not to sound snotty or as if I am the font of all knowledge on anything high fashion related but even with my amateur knowledge I noticed that as the video trend took off and was adopted by big name influencers, it became less about the average person putting their own personal spin on the aesthetic of the labels we can’t ordinarily afford and more about them building outfits that only vaguely resemble the general public perception of the brand around the real corresponding (and often gifted and thus inaccessible to someone who doesn’t makes thousands for a sponsored post) pieces they own SO I thought I’d take the trend back to its roots and get a bit resourceful. All that being said, in no particular order, here are the outfits I would wear to sit front row at Gucci, Vera Wang, Miu-Miu, Marc Jacobs, Dolce & Gabbana, Brock Collection, Alexander McQueen, Etro, Burberry aaaand Saint Laurent based on their past collections and guess what? They didn’t cost a shit tonne of money :-)

-disclaimer: will include an asterisk before any new purchases if from a high street store though to be honest, I don’t think there are any, we shall see! I do include where I got old purchases from in case anyone wants to search anything on Depop/Ebay-

1. Saint Laurent (formerly Yves Saint Laurent)

-blazer from identityparty on Depop, pleather trousers from Zara, jewellery from Dolls Kill-

I know technically abbreviating Saint Laurent to YSL doesn’t really make much sense anymore given the brand’s name change in 2012, but I’ll always think of it as that in the same way I’ll always associate it with the slightly dishevelled yet simultaneously glitzy rock n’ roll aesthetic. The thing is, whilst YSL hasn’t done anything wildly out of the box for a long time, it’s rare they put a look on the runway that I wouldn’t wear; they never end up being a fashion week standout but the Parisienne take on grunge we’ve seen Anthony Vaccarello establish as his go-to will always have a place in my heart.

2. Alexander McQueen

-embroidered leather jacket from Ebay (originally Topshop), harness from Amazon, dress from ASOS, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

Alexander McQueen is a brand that is pretty much universally liked, from the historically extravagant and groundbreaking shows the man himself put together to Sarah Burton’s more toned down but still beautiful collections. Obviously I didn’t attempt to do justice to the former, so I tried my hand at putting together a look inspired by Sarah’s blend of delicate femininity and nomadic edge, and it went...okay? Like it’s definitely not my favourite of all the looks because it does give off slightly cheap copycat vibes buuut outside of the context of this lookbook it’s cute.

3. Brock Collection

-boater hat from Ebay, midi skirt from morganogle on Depop, corset top from ownmode_, heels from amybeckett1, bag from Primark-

Brock isn’t as well known a brand as most of the others in this list but I adore everything Laura Vassar Brock does and I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to try and channel the vision of one of the OG pioneers of the cottagecore vibe through my own wardrobe. I mean fr, this woman’s work as a steady provider of meadow photoshoot worthy dresses and corsets and skirts is v slept on and I will not stand for it. I will sit in front of a camera and then write a paragraph in my blog post begging anybody who reads to give LVB (an abbreviation I acknowledge is unlikely to catch on because Lisa Vanderpump anybody?) some form of acknowledgement for her services to period romance novel inspired moodboards everywhere.

4. Marc Jacobs

-coat from House of Sunny, white shirt from Retro World Camden, co-ord from Sugar Thrillz, bag from Poppy Lissiman-

If there’s one thing Marc Jacobs always does, it’s COMMITS. TO. HIS. THEME. I just KNOW he has a secret Pinterest with separate boards for every fashion era of the 20th century and he is putting those boards to good use providing us with collections that are as immersive as they are eclectic year in year out.

5. Miu Miu

-beret from H&M, hair clips from H&M, jewellery from Primark, coat from mollyyemmaa on Depop, shirt from YesStyle, sweater vest from YesStyle, skirt from Depop, diamanté belt from Brandy Melville, shoes from Koi Vegan Footwear-

We all like to talk about Bratz dolls and Monster High dolls and Barbies as fashion inspo but can we all focus on Cabbage Patch dolls for two secs so as to acknowledge the fact that a Miu Miu collection is basically all their fits grown up? And made boujie as fuck? If I want my fix of Wes Anderson meets Scream Queens (what a combo) inspired outfits, if I want prissy and girlish but also glam, if I want to look like a bratty rich girl whose one redeeming quality is her eye for vintage clothes, I know where to look and that is the Miu Miu section of Vogue Runway.

6. Vera Wang

-blazer as in no.1, velvet bralet from catdegaris on Depop, harness from Amazon, skirt from Ebay, knee high socks from Ebay, lace up boots from Ebay-

Vera Wang’s RTW aesthetic, a blend of the ethereal, ultra-feminine bridal designs she’s known for and British style punk rock influences, is something I feel has only become firmly established in recent years but it is everything I ever wanted and more. I always find myself trying to balance the part of me that loves everything girly and delicate and pretty and the part of me that would love to be in a biker gang and Vera’s collections are always an inspirational reminder of just how well it can be done.

7. Burberry

-coat from charity shop, suit from emmafisher3 on Depop, top from simranindia, shirt underneath from Zara, jewellery from ASOS-

Now I’m not gonna lie, I’m not the biggest fan of Burberry but there have been a few looks over the past few years I’ve really liked and as someone who owns numerous trench coats, high necks and way too much plaid, I thought it’d be an easy one to replicate. Plus, if you can count on Riccardo Tisci for nothing else you at least can rely on him giving you some layering inspo which is very much needed in a country where it literally just snowed in April and where my plans for today have just been cancelled because the iPhone weather app did a Karen Smith and didn’t predict rain for today right up until it started raining so thanks for that one British meteorologists. Your incompetence strikes again.

8. Etro

-corset from Urban Outfitters, vinyl trench coat from Topshop, boots from Ebay, black slip dress from kaoanaoleinik on Depop, fur trim afghan coat from louisemarcella-

Like with Brock Collection, Etro isn’t a hugely well known brand, but it is always one of my favourites-to add a spanner into the works of any attempts to cultivate a firm sense of personal style, I live for the ornate Bohemian look that Etro does so well just as much as I love both grungy and girly pieces, and so I really wanted to include a brand whose collections go down that route. It was a toss-up between this and Zimmerman, the flirtier, free spirit counterpart to the dark romance of Veronica Etro’s designs; her vision really shines through the most when it comes to the brand’s winter collections, imo, and given that I live in a country where winter or some weather state resembling it does seem to take up 70% of the year, I did decide on channelling her work rather than that of the equally talented Nicky and Simone Zimmermann this time round.

9. Dolce & Gabbana

-flower crown from ASOS, tiara from Amazon, earrings from YesStyle, dress from alicealderdice1 on Depop, opera gloves from Ebay, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

D&G is a brand I felt really conflicted about doing-I don’t include their current collections in my fashion week reviews based on the actions of designers Stefano Gabbana and Domenico Dolce over the last few years because I don’t want to mitigate the collective effort of fashion critics to push them towards irrelevancy. Though people like to claim the brand has turned a corner since Lucio Di Rosa was brought on board as the manager of celebrity and VIP relations last year (they are as prolific a force on red carpet fashion as ever), we haven’t seen any real meaningful apologies or reparations made by Dolce and Gabbana themselves which once again leaves us in the all too familiar quandary of whether or not we can separate the art from the artist especially when it is far too much of a simplification to only credit the two men for their work given there’s a whole design team behind them. There are a LOT of shitty people working in fashion, the whole industry is a bit of a cesspit if we’re honest, but I don’t think that should stop us from at least being able to appreciate old collections if we make sure we aren’t engaging in any kind of promotion of current works whilst doing so. D&G are a brand of high highs and low lows, with looks that range from hideously ugly to showstoppingly beautiful in a single show-when the looks are good, they are GOOD-and their presence in the fashion world is most definitely felt whether we want it to be or not. It would just be shit to refuse to recognise the existence of some real iconic runway moments, the practical work that went into the ornate detail and opulence that helped cement D&Gs place in sartorial history, the styling that’s made goddesses and fairytale queens out of modern day women as they’ve glided down catwalks, the far more extravagant and, let’s be real, sexier version of our world D&G shows have transported us to in the past. Will I talk about D&G ever again? No, and if you Google the scandals their brand has faced over the past few years, there are more than enough reasons why, but just this once I did want to pay homage to some of the collections, the snippets of which I saw on my Tumblr dashboard back when I was about 13, that first got me into fashion.

10. Gucci

-fur coat from Topshop, clips from Zaful, glasses from Ebay, dress from gracewright246 on Depop, shirt from Boohoo, blazer from charity shop-

Now last but, if you ever read any of my fashion week reviews (the likelihood of someone actually having read one of them and reading this is incredibly, incredibly slim lol, I wouldn’t read me either) you’ll know, definitely not least, is Gucci because Alessandro Michele comes through every!! single!! time!!

The man is truly the king of quirky throwback maximalism and it hurts my heart that a lot of people seem to think of it only as a brand associated with ostentatious displays of wealth. Year after year since Michele was made creative director he has released purposeful, fully-fleshed out collections which unravel themselves to us on the runway like time capsules containing the belongings of the rich and whimsical and yes that can sometimes result in outfits which are *ahem* a bit mismatched but it doesn’t matter because through fashion he manages to take us to a vivid version of the past where people could dress as freely and lavishly as they wanted to, into the wardrobe of a person unaffected by the side-eyeing of others. You get the impression he doesn’t design so much as plays around with some kind of enchanted dress up box and takes inspiration from there and to give that impression is only a credit to his talent-to make outfits so kooky and extravagant look like they were meant to be takes a boldness and genuine love for clothes that I do tend to feel a lot of the big name designers have lost in the pursuit of profit and the necessary placating of the dying customer base that keeps that coming in. Of course I'm not for a second saying Gucci does not care about profit, but at the very least, they have on board a creative director who genuinely has fun with what they’re putting out there and wants to make a statement too and that really shows; you can rest on your laurels and sell tweed boucle jackets to rich old white women for eternity but nobody’s going to mention your brand name and the word groundbreaking in the same sentence ever again unless they’re talking about what it was a century ago, you know (mentioning no names...unless...did I hear someone say Chanel)? That feels like such a shady way to end, lol, but I’m sure said brand will survive-to be fair, they’ve been included in every other What I’d Wear to Sit Front Row At video I’ve seen so although I’m always slagging them off for doing the saaaaame thinggggg year after year, for that same reason their aesthetic is instantly recognisable and so will always be a source of imitation. There are obviously pros and cons to being a brand which constantly reinvents itself but I think it’s totally possible to do that whilst maintaining an overall mission, and Alessandro Michele’s work at Gucci demonstrates that with ease.

Anyway, if you got to here, thanks for reading! I know I’m super behind on this whole TikTok trend and I know a Tumblr post instead of a video is a bit of a cop out but all the real, physically awkward ones out there know that watching yourself back is excruciating lmao, so I hope this does the trick. After this, I’m gonna get back to the reviewing S/S21 collections post though knowing me I’ll probs take a few days to get back into that because I feel like since I left full-time education (RIP me going back in a few months) writing continuously like this for any longer than about 15 mins fries what brain cells I have left. Again, thank you for reading and if you are, sending many good vibes your way! Stay safe!

Lauren x

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jinx-on-mars-19xx · 4 years ago

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I blame @domlovescolson for this, I saw that Sk8er Boi Com post and this just happened. Hope it's good. Happy 800 followers 🖤

Also blame @blxxdyvalentine19xx for commenting "it's a concept, a cute one too."

Sk8er Boi

Pairing: Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: Fluff, Swearing (Duh), clumsy boys, mild stalking

Rating: PG/Everyone (besides the swearing and innuendo)

The vibrations from the crunchy asphalt under my wheels makes the muscles in my legs tingle as I kick out again, propelling myself forward on my board. I hate skating this area of town, my muscles always pins and needles when I get home but it's the only way. I'd swear there's a tether in me, tied around my heart and pulling me to the same damn spot every day. I know I could see him at school, and I do, but I can't talk to him there. I just can't. I legit can't even talk to him out of school but at least this way I don't get shit from my friends for staring at a dude. I just need to get to the bus stop on time, I just need to get there and skate by as he leaves dance class and waits for his ride home. I just need to see him and everything will be fine. See him in that skin tight black outfit, the tutu he doesn't have to wear but chooses to cause he's obviously a badass, those cute hot pink ballet shoes tied together and draped over his shoulder. I just need to see him.

My chest is heaving as I try to go faster, worried I'll miss the moment we share everyday. The moment I skate past and his wide jade eyes look up at me before I take a seat and we act like we don't notice the other person. I wonder if his chest gets as tight as mine, if his palms sweat. I wonder if he even gives me a second thought or if he's just in his own little world. My eyes stay focused on the ground in front of me, watching close for too big pebbles or a new crack in the road. What I'm not watching for though is a pair of hot pink slippers as they suddenly fall in front of my board, my wheels getting caught as I tilt and fall. I don't get much air but the landing still fucking blows and I know my pants are going to be more ripped than they were a moment ago.

"Oh fuck! Sorry mate, bloody hell I didn't think it'd happen like that. God I was just trying to get your attention. I'm sorry! Are you alright?" I hear his thick accent before I see his untied black combat boots, his bare legs, and bright tutu in front of me. I look up slow, the sun shining around him like a halo and I have to squint. He offers his hand to me and I just stare a little dumbfounded. My fantasies never get so far that we speak, I don't really know what to do now. His fingers wiggle almost impatiently and I finally slip my hand in his and stand up.

"I'm chill. Don't worry man. Fall all the time, honest." I reply, trying to smile even as I feel blood welling on my knee, definitely skinned. "You were trying to get my attention?" I huff a small laugh. "Ya got it." It takes me a second to notice we're still holding hands and I clear my throat, pulling my sweaty palm from his and running my fingers through my limp black mohawk before picking up my board and his shoes. I hand them back over and he smiles, his cheeks flushing as he takes in my condition.

"Oh god, I made you hurt ya'self. Fuck. Come. Sit. Let me look at it." He says quickly, his fingers tugging at my Ramones t-shirt as he drags me to the bench. I follow him because I feel like I have to but I'm really not that hurt. We settle on it and I lean my board against my other leg as he fusses over my wound. "We need to clean this, ya don't wanna jus' leave it. Ugh! Course I finally try and talk to you and I fuck it all up. I'm such a mess." He sighs, his eyes finally locking on mine, just like I wait for everyday. The soft smile I love is a little shaky with worry but it's there and for once I truly smile back.

I set my palm over his hand on my thigh, my fingers patting his skin. "Seriously, I'm good. You're sweet though. I'll clean it when I get home." I sigh, trying to reassure him. "Colson by the way. Name's Colson."

"Nice to meet ya Cols, glad to finally put a name to my stalker." His soft smile turns into a full smirk and it's my turn to blush. "Dominic. Dom." He offers. "Honestly though, I know your type. Ya ain't gonna go home and wash it. Think jus' to make sure you should walk me home. Got a first aid kit, I'll play nurse." My heart trips over itself in my chest as his eyes twinkle. "I'm a bit more clumsy than ya'd fink, I'll get ya fixed right up and then you can take me out for a coffee as thanks."

My mouth opens and closes a few times, no real words wanting to form. I'm sure I look like a fish out of water but I never assumed he'd be so forward. It's probably a good thing though, I would have just been content to keep up our daily routine forever, just to see him smile. His hand turns under mine, our fingers tangling together before he's standing and pulling me up with him. "Figured you'd want tea." I tease, picking up my board. He rolls his eyes but leads me down the sidewalk. "Wait…" I pause, looking around. "Don't we need to wait for the bus?"

He laughs softly, shaking his head. "I actually live close, I jus' take the bus cause you wait with me. Only time I ever get with ya but we're gonna change that." He says, playfully bumping his head against my shoulder. Yeah… we're definitely going to change that.

#yungblud #dominic harrison #dom harrison #machine gun kelly #mgk #colson baker #yungblud x machine gun kelly #dom x colson #com fic #my fic #sk8er boi

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago

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Lost Tomb Lewks, Part 4

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Amusements)

Warning: vague Spoilers for Season 1 of The Lost Tomb Reboot

Look 17 is this gorgeous knife.

I’m not a “knives are sexy” person, or I should say, I never WAS a “knives are sexy” person before.

I do have a strong affection for my Alaskan ulu kitchen knife, which is a godsend for anyone who is arthritic (me) or who is an upper-limb amputee (my family member) or is hemiplegic (different family member), but that’s as much attention as I’ve ever paid to a knife.

Until now:

(*whisper* lick it)

Ahem.

This is a kukri, a traditional knife of the Gurkha people in Nepal and India. It’s similar to a machete but it has a downward-curving blade, which means you can slash downward forcefully without bending your wrist. It’s excellent for cracking crustacean shells heavy chopping, as well as combat. Wikipedia doesn’t know why there are notches near the base of the blade but sure does have some theories.

The handle looks to be a mix of metal and ivory. Hopefully antique ivory, or ivory from a properly-compensated voluntary donor. [That is a joke, the ivory trade is bad, don’t kill elephants, etc.] The case is topstitched leather with snaps to keep the knife from escaping. Did OP just spend an hour learning too much about knives? She did. Does this mean she’s going to also make an effort to learn something about watches, a critically overlooked area of her menswear commentary? It does not.

Look 18 is a classic explorer’s rig that looks like it came out of the Banana Republic catalog back in 1987 when the name “Banana Republic” still kind of suited the clothes sold there. (Google it and be startled) This look features dark brown trousers that are comfortably loose but still well-fitted and flattering. The shirt is two warm tans--a dark one for most parts, and a lighter one through the chest and inner arms. This gives it a nice depth and keeps it from looking bland. This outfit also features Wu Xie’s watch, which...is round? and tells time.

(more after the cut!)

This look features the first of many, many, many times that a character will shine a flashlight directly into the camera. Which makes it painful to watch the show on my tablet in the dark when my bedmate is asleep. Knock it off, characters!

Side Note: Wu Xie’s room has some good features. He’s got a giant bulletin board holding framed photos of all the adventures in which he was played by a different actor. This makes it easy to move his photo collection when his uncle decides to be a dick about the rent.

Wu Xie’s bed is big and comfy-looking, with a variety of patterns and textures; appropriate for a person who’s planning on dying, or having an increasingly complicated love life, or both. This bed has room for a 100-year-old boyfriend, a 20-year-old girlfriend, and a thousand-year-old crustacean-brained princess, as long as everyone’s friendly.

It also has a padded headboard, which is so important when you are dating a paper-mache person with a fragile head. This padded headboard also has curved head/neck support things that look just the right size for a person to grab onto with both hands and hold on for dear life. It looks antique, which means Wu Xie bought it for the aesthetic value and definitely not for fucking, right? Definitely not. For fucking.

Wu Xie tops off Look 18 with the handsome swamp green coat from their recent tomb adventure, now completely unmuddy thanks to the world’s greatest dry cleaner, and with a strappy, practical backpack.

This warm-toned outfit and the buttery colors of the room are perfect for having an intimate, deeply truthful conversation...

....in which you gently crush your dear one’s heart into powder.

Look 19 is Xiao Ge’s blue hoodie and black pants combo, which we finally get to see in the full light of day.

The hood is good for hiding in when you want to cry.

This hoodie looks black in low light, but is actually navy blue with black piping, placket, and zipper.

The ensemble features black trousers with an eye-catching vertical silver-toned zipper on the front pockets. Black boots and black tactical gloves round out the look.

Side note: each of the Iron Triangle guys has his own backpack style. Wu Xie’s is an olive green expedition pack. Pangzi’s is two-tone canvas and leather.

Xiao Ge’s is black tech fabric, and features a chest strap to keep it from shifting around when he is kicking asses. The black straps coordinates well with the black piping on his hoodie.

This outfit is a good one to wear while you exchange tender gazes of pure unconditional love with the guy who is crushing your heart into powder.

I don’t need to look at Pangzi I know what Pangzi looks like and anyway I glanced at him already today.

Did OP slow these gifs way down purely to keep from giving anybody eye strain? She did. OP is considerate of your eyes. Speaking of eyes, awww. Xiao Ge sure is bros with Wu Xie, you guys.

Look 20: Liu Sang! Liu Sang! Liu Sang!

Actor Liu Chang, a man who can wear literally anything and make it look fucking amazing, makes his entry onto the scene in a good, but understated, suit.

Most of the suit is a charcoal grey, but it has a single light grey lapel and pocket flap, to keep things interesting. He’s wearing it with black Oxford shoes that have a small red, white, & blue tab poking out the back. So he’s dressed conservatively, but with a bit of flair.

He’s accessorized the look with perfectly fine, but not very interesting, black wirefame glasses that he’ll replace with cooler ones after some time underground. He’s got a cartilage piercing in his left ear with a flat black oblong earring. Because of his extreme hearing, he’s wearing noise-cancelling earphones.

This look says, “normalize the use of adaptive tech.” These are probably - in real life - not as effective as the larger over-ear headphones a lot of noise-sensitive people use, but their sleekness and elegance match the rest of Liu Sang’s accessories and clothing.

Because of his noise sensitivity, Liu Sang pukes as soon as he gets out into the crowded street. He vomits neatly into a drain, however, in the way of someone who’s used to managing this symptom and isn’t going to let it spoil his outfit. We stan a neuroatypical king.

More Lewks coming soon!

#the lost tomb reboot #reunion: the sound of the providence #liu sang #zhu yilong #liu chang #lost tomb lewks #wu xie #canary3d-original #don't worry I haven't forgotten restless rewatch #I just had to write about the knife first #the kniiiiiffffeeee #spoilers

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all-might-can-smash-me · 4 years ago

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Memories

Aizawa Shouta x reader

Summary: Memories of your younger years bubble up and out from the lips of you and Aizawa during a late night on U.A.’s campus.

Sorry for typos

its a bit of a manga spoiler, though I relied on research because i haven’t read that far into the manga, I’m only on chapter 8 :’)

Masterlist

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The nightly bugs sang their ballads and serenaded into the summer air within their little confines of the grass that had begun to dew or upon the trees that would dance along the breeze. Upon U.A. high’s campus, the darkness could have swallowed it whole from the night if it weren’t for the persistent shine of the moon above along with it’s stars and also from one particular dormitory. From the vast windows of the common area came a flickering glow. The light that was illuminated would softly flick between different colors and dim and brighten in a random sequence. If it weren’t for you being awake and taking your final stroll around the school to make sure every door was locked and shut before heading to the teacher’s dormitory, you wouldn’t have even seen it. With a sigh, your chilled hands clutched your fuzzy nightrobe to tighten it around you as you began to tread through the fresh dew on the grass, the dampness already sinking into your shoes as you finally stepped up to the dormitory for the class 1A, pushing through the door and treading quietly into the common area.

Most of the class seemed to be piled up to together at the tv, the movie KiKi’s Delivery Service seeming to start again after resting on the title screen for far too long. The students were all wrapped up in blankets, pillows, huddled together either on the plush cushions of the couch or upon their pile of pillows thrown onto the floor, all fast asleep and snoring and muttering in their sleep peacefully.

You had begun to tread carefully through the sea of bodies, tiptoeing to the bright light of the tv, though a stirring body caught your attention from the floor as you stepped next to it.

“Mom....?” Groggily spoke out a voice nonother than Izuku who was squinting up at you through his half asleep state, which you held back a laugh as you leaned down, beckoning him to lay back down.

“Go back to sleep, kid...” you whispered out as your hands grabbed the blankets that fell off of him, gently resting them back on him. The teen didn’t need to be told twice to go back to sleep though as he was already snoring and muttering in his sleep again, adding onto the iconic ambiance of night. The whole entire scene that surrounded you threatened to make your heart explode as you successfully reached the tv, already stopping the movie and turning off the television screen.

“Glad this isn’t a school night...” came out a hushed voice behind you which startled you as you turned away from the tv. Aizawa stood on the opposite end of the sea of sleeping teenagers. He was in his own simpler sleepwear, hair messily pulled back in a ponytail. You know he didn’t even bothered to brush it, but that didn’t stop him from still being very attractive before you and make you feel stupid in your hot pink robe with your plain shorts and an old t-shirt that had begun to have holes forming in them.

“Come on...enjoy the scene Shouta....they are all pretty cute right now....kind of all look like little children, it’s hard to think that they all might be pro heroes soon with their own agencies and what not..” you spoke back in a hushed voice as you carefully manuvered around stretched out arms, legs, and bodies to stand beside Aizawa too look at the peaceful sight of class 1A. You loved those kids, you couldn’t deny that, they were like your own children, your own family. You knew Aizawa felt the same way with that little soft look that had begun to bloom within his eyes as he looked to the room filled with sleeping students. He would definitely never admit to that, but that look his casted from those kind eyes was all the confirmation you needed.

“Yeah...well they are out past the ‘quiet hours’ that were set by Nezu...” he whispered, a single blink of his eyes managing to blink away that softness and adoration he held for the students before him. You only shook your head as you quietly began to make way for the doors, Aizawa following shortly behind you to lock the doors behind the two of you once your bodies had soon been released back into the cool air of night and the ambiance of singing bugs.

“Like we would have even made the time to read the rules when we were their age......and you know, I kind of wish we had dormitories when we were here...” you spoke out as you watched the keys within his hands jingle as he pulled them from the lock of the door, watching his rough hands shove them sloppily into the pocket of his sweats. “Imagine all the fun things that we could have done, like watch a movie with the whole class, karaoke, board games...” Aizawa only let out a scoff as he listened.

“We made some pretty good memories while we were here without a glorified long term sleepover.” He said matter of fact as the two of you had began to casually walk along the cracks of the cement sidewalk maze that rested upon the campus grounds, the short cut through the fresh dewed grass not evident in your minds. The erasure hero looked confused though as you let out a snort and a hearty laugh to his conjecture.

“I never said we didn’t have good memories.” You explained as you looked over and up to him. “Those memories of me and you constantly having our ears pounded in by Yamada at karaoke clubs after school and forcing you out to get Shabu-Shabu with us when winter would hit are some of the fondest memories I have...” you said with a sigh of content as the memories played quickly through your head like a nostalgic movie of your childhood. “Oh! And the time we watched Milo and Otis and we couldn’t stop crying hysterically, so my mom made us hot chocolate while we couldn’t understand in our young minds why we were crying...” you said through your giggles at the sudden memory that had broken free from the depths of your brain that had been trapped there from long ago.

“I still don’t understand why I was crying over that movie....” A small little smile had crawled to the corners of his lips, a little laugh of his own now joining in with your uncontrollable giggles that bubbled up and away from your lips. “And then all those times us, Oboro, and Yamada would spend huddled on the front steps of the school. Just to think....I kind of actually thought we had our own cool, little posse....looking back we probably looked really lame to the rest of the school.” He said as he couldn’t help but let his face cringe, a hand rubbing over his tired eyes.

Once those tired and irritated eyes met the vibrant expression upon your face, his heart had begun to thud within the confines of his chest as he watched your laughter slowly begin to die away as you recalled all those pleasant memories that felt so very long ago. Your beauty slapped him in the face as children and teens....and it still did now as a worn out adult.

“Lame at school, probably....but only if Oboro could have seen us at our wedding reception...” you said as you facepalmed, those giggles of yours drifting in his ears like the soft melody of a wind chime in a soft breeze. “Mom kept filming everything, even filmed Yamada’s version of break dancing and then us, Yamada, and Kayama all dancing to our favorite song together while drunk out of our minds when we finished up with all the traditional aspects of it. I still need to thank Yagi for telling me how the American’s do it...” One of your hands had escaped from the warmth of the fuzzy robe pocket to grasp almost shyly onto his hand.

You don’t know why, but it kind of felt like the two of you were back in your final year of high school, back when the two of you had found yourselves in the awkward stages of crushing on each other. How you felt flustered everytime you would look to the visible parts of his face through that unruly dark hair of his even if you basically grew up looking at it. Or how he would find himself with a blank mind whenever you would ask a simple question about homework when he use to be able to do it simply years before about anything and everything. Yamada and Oboro figured it out quickly too though. The two were in your room, sprawled out on the bed or messing with things on your desk as you dug through your clothes frantically and constantly asked for their opinion on how you did your hair, makeup, and put together your outfit when before you never seemed so frantic on looking nice before heading to pick up Aizawa to all head out to eat together. The blush that tinted Shouta’s cheeks and his gaze that sat on you for a bit longer than it regularly would while eating at your little ‘posse’s’ favorite ramen shop confirmed their conspiracies as they casted their knowing glances to each other and covered their grins with slurping their noodles.

“It feels like it was all only yesterday...maybe it’s because we’ve been on this campus for far too long.” Muttered out Shouta, almost a bit disappointed as the teacher dormitories had come to his view. He didn’t know if he wanted sleep to swallow up the memories to store them away for years to come again.

“Hm...maybe you’re right.....but how about remembering that night after the reception? I think I need to remember...” You whispered out now as you had pushed open the doors to the building with your free hand, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you looked over your shoulder and at him.

“Hmm....I’m not opposed to that...the other teachers in the dorms? Eh...” he said quietly with a surpressed laugh as the two of you begun to quicken your paces to your shared room.

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soprano193 · 4 years ago

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Not a Couple

Chapter 8

Jane:

It only took thirteen seconds for Jane's more sophisticated friend to comment on her outfit. After placing her two suitcases in the back of the cab and hopping in the backseat with Jane, she eyed her friend with eyebrows raised. "Jane, I thought you were kidding about the sweats!"

"I was. Mostly." She laughed to herself as she realized how odd of a pair they made, Jane in her black sweats and a Red Sox tee, and Maura with a pencil skirt and green flowy blouse. "Maura, are you comfortable?" Jane asked, gesturing down to the Doctor's heels.

"Comfortable enough." Her answer was non-committal, accompanied by a shrug of her shoulders. So she wasn't comfortable.

"Maur, we're going to be on a plane for seven hours. The driver can wait a few extra minutes for you to change into something comfortable for the trip."

For a moment, it seemed like the honey blonde would accept the offer to change, or at least pick out more comfortable shoes. But with a shake of her head, Maura resigned herself to her choices. "I'll be fine. I've flown many times in this exact outfit." At her words, the cab lurched forward, headed to Logan.

"Hey, as long as you're comfy."

Her friend laughed. "Well, I can see you are!" From her purse, she pulled out a legal pad, flipping through the pages. "I updated my itinerary. I was up for a while, adding you to my plans, and finding new things that might interest us both." As she chatted away about palaces, catacombs, and cathedrals, Jane watched her face, wondering again in awe how she kept so much information inside her brain. Maura must have seen the look on Jane's face, and stopped her rambling to look at the former Detective, her brows furrowed. "What?"

"Nothing. Just watching your giant brain work." At this, Jane swore she saw the hint of a blush creeping up on her friend's face. Looking down at the legal pad, her eyes fixated on Maura's tidy scrawl. "So, did you pack our days, or did you give us some wiggle room?"

"I picked things that would interest us both, and left days for relaxation and writing in between."

"And in all this planning, did you manage to get any sleep?"

Her friend paused. "Not much. But, I planned a two-day recovery so that we can start to adjust our internal clocks." Maura glances at her, hazel eyes studying her face. "What about you? You left pretty late."

"I didn't sleep. I had a few things to finish packing into the Pod so they can store it for me. And I had to add a few nicer outfits to my suitcase." At Maura's pleased smile, Jane grinned. "Besides, I figured we could sleep on the plane."

"Oh, but we shouldn't!" Maura's outburst startled even the cab driver. "When we get to Paris, it will be nighttime. We should try to stay awake on the plane, and then sleep when we get there. It would be beneficial for our internal clocks."

"Maura! You're telling me that I should stay awake for two days voluntarily?"

She giggled. "You've stayed awake before!"

Jane groaned. "During cases, Maur. When there's a body dump and a killer on the loose. There's a difference." They continued to laugh, talk, and plan during their short ride to Logan. Check-in was quick in the early morning before the busy period started. And they were through security after about 30 minutes.

Once in the terminal, Jane wasted no time searching for a store with coffee. She sent a silent prayer to the coffee Gods when around the corner from their gate was a Boston Joe's kiosk. "Maura, coffee." It was a statement rather than a question, and her friend only nodded in response.

"I'm heading to our gate. I'll meet you there."

Jane nodded in response, tapping her friend on the shoulder before jumping in the back of the line. She almost didn't notice the way Maura stiffened at the contact. As she watched the Doctor walk away, she brushed the stiffness off, figuring it had to be exhaustion.

The line was moving slow. There was only one worker behind the counter and several tired travelers looking for a pick-me-up. After the first customer, her phone chimed. A message from Davies.

C: I heard you were starting late. I hope you're not backing out?

J: I'm not, I promise. Just taking a long-deserved vacation to Paris with Maura.

C: Ah, the City of Love. I've heard great things. Send me pictures?

J: I will. See you in a month.

C: Have fun, Jane.

When she got to the counter, she ordered Maura's non-fat latte with no foam, and her own latte with a triple shot. "My travel companion won't let me sleep on the plane." She explained to the barista, who seemed unfazed by the amount of espresso she was pouring into the former Detective's drink. Coffee firmly in her hands, Jane made her way to the gate.

Maura sat in a chair by the windows, her laptop out as she typed away. "What are you working on?" Passing her friend her drink, she watched Maura's screen.

"Well, my plan for this vacation was to change my scenery and write. I figured I might as well now since I probably won't on the plane." She took a sip of her drink, grinning when she saw the stevia packets in Jane's hand. "Thank you. I have something for you, too." She passed over her boarding pass, her finger lingering over the seat number.

It took Jane a second, but once she saw it, she grinned. "You got your seat changed!"

"I did. The person next to you was happy to switch."

"I call the window seat." This made Maura laugh, which made Jane's heart jump up to her chest. Making Maura laugh was one of her favorite pastimes. It would be hard in a month when she couldn't do that every day. Trying to distract herself from her worries, Jane pulled out her phone. "I should tell Ma we made it to the airport safely."

"I already texted her."

Grinning, Jane watched her friend out of the corner of her eye. "Okay, so I'll watch a movie then." Fishing her headphones out of her pocket, she pulled up Netfix and started a random movie. But instead of watching the movie, she read what Maura was typing.

If Maura noticed the intrusion, she didn't let on. She flipped between her word processor and a scanned version of her outline often. At one point she switched to a page filled with character information, adding to it, expanding on her points. When she hesitated, Jane would watch her face, how her jaw would set and her eyes would narrow as she tried to figure out what she wanted to say. Or her small, satisfied smile when she'd written something she liked. Watching Maura's face change as she wrote made Jane want to read her book even more.

On the plane, each passenger had their own little TV on the backs of the chairs in front of them. Once in the air, Maura found archeological documentaries, the kind that had the British narrators that made Jane fall asleep. Jane opted for something with more explosions, to help keep her awake. Unfortunately, around three hours in, she was struggling to keep her eyes open. She tapped her companion, who pulled out an earbud. "I know we're supposed to stay awake, but what's it gonna hurt to take a little nap?"

The Doctor raised her eyebrows at her in response. "Well, it won't hurt, but the time difference and jet lag can be unpleasant. You'll be prone to irritability, fatigue, indigestion, and headaches."

"Maur, I'm already fatigued, and am halfway to irritable. I need to sleep."

"Well, I won't stop you." Her friend's response was all she needed to hear. From her carry-on luggage, Jane pulled out the matching leopard U-shaped pillow that came with her bag. Her friend's laughter didn't stop her from putting it around her neck and against the plane wall. "Sleep well, Jane."

Despite her exhaustion, sleeping on a plane was proving to be very difficult. Every little movement she could feel, and she had never been great at sleeping while sitting. As she was about to give up and complain, looking to Maura for support, she found her friend with eyelids fluttering, her chin resting on her fist. "Maur," She started, making the Doctor startle, "get some rest. You're tired."

The honey blonde shook her head, blinking her hazel eyes. "I can't. I don't want to be irritable."

"Maura, you're with me. I'll forgive you." Jane felt her face soften as she tugged her friend to her, letting Maura rest her head on Jane's shoulder. As Maura snuggled in, letting sleep get the best of her, Jane rested her head on top of Maura's, finally losing consciousness.

They were awoken by the flight attendants, who were preparing for landing. Announcements were made over the speaker that they were approaching their destination. Jane lifted her shade to see what was going on. Maura peering over her shoulder, Jane held her breath until they landed safely on another continent.

It took them almost two hours to clear customs, their bags being the last off the plane. Maura hailed a taxi outside to take them to their hotel. Inside the cab, she spoke perfect French with the driver, which Jane watched in awe. Too tired to even try to follow the conversation, she instead opted to text her Mother, making sure she knew they arrived.

The cab dropped them off at a hotel walking distance from the tower. It looked huge, lit up in the night, glowing beacons shining in the air. Jane could feel her mouth opening as she took it all in. Sure, she knew they were in another country, far from home, but seeing the tower like that, so close, that's when it hit her. She was in Paris. With Maura.

As her friend entered her thoughts, she felt a hand slip into hers and tug it, pulling her gently along the sidewalk. "Jane, come on."

"Pinch me."

The Doctor's laughter was gentle, as she pulled herself into Jane's side, lacing their fingers together. "Why would I want to do that?"

Jane squeezed the younger woman's hand. "So I know this is real." The light chuckle and grin that adorned Maura's face, her dimples showing as she walked backward, it almost outshone the tower.

Their room had a view of the Tower from the balcony. Jane stood at the full-length windows and stared for just a bit longer before being pulled out of her trance by the blonde Doctor placing pills into her hands. "Melatonin. It should help with the jet lag." At Jane's quirked eyebrow, she continued. "It will help you sleep." Jane didn't question it further, and accepted the glass of water her friend held out. The honey-blonde made her way across the room to the bathroom, gathering some clothing from her opened bag as she went. "As much as I want to unpack, I also feel like it's important that we sleep." Jane took the opportunity while her friend was getting ready to change clothes, drawing the curtains closed. "I'm worried that it will be difficult given our nap on the plane."

"I'm not," Jane answered back as she yawned, throwing her travel clothes in a pile and climbing under the covers on her side of the bed. "I think that melanin you gave me is kicking in." As she closed her eyes, she heard her friend chuckle, her footsteps coming closer to the bed. By the time Maura had set up her phone charger and joined Jane under the covers, Jane was asleep.

When her eyes opened next, the clock on the side of the bed shone back at her. 3:42 am. Part of her wanted to groan and fall back asleep, but she woke feeling refreshed. Blaming it on the time change, she turned to face Maura.

Maura was still asleep, her breathing even, her face serene. Despite the long day of travel, her hair was still in perfect waves which sloped gracefully over the curve of her cheek. Jane reached over to brush a stray piece out of her eyes, and felt her breath hitch as she waited to see if Maura woke. Instead, it seemed as if the blonde smiled at Jane's touch, relaxing more in her slumber. Jane felt her heart flip at the intimacy of the moment, realizing that the only other person who would ever experience this was Maura's eventual spouse. It was a strange honor to see the well put together Doctor in such a vulnerable place, and Jane scoffed as she realized that she was jealous of a person who didn't exist yet.

Pushing her thoughts from her head, Jane decided to peruse Facebook, looking at photos from her friends back home. After a few minutes, when she remembered where they were, she climbed out of bed, careful not to disturb her sleeping companion. Walking to the window, she pulled it open and stared out in awe. The Tower's lights were off, but she could still make out the imposing figure in the darkness. The lights absolutely added to its beauty, but just knowing it was there sent shivers down her spine.

The hand pressed into the small of her back had surprised her, but instead of jumping, she leaned back into it, until Maura's arm wrapped around her and she situated herself at Jane's hip. "The lights stop at 1 am." Maura's voice was soft, like she was afraid to break the serenity of the moment.

"I wasn't complaining." She felt Maura chuckle beside her. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"You didn't." The reassurance made Jane let out her breath, relaxing more into her friend's embrace. "How long have you been awake?"

"Just about ten minutes. I remembered where we were and thought I'd admire the view."

"That's a good plan." Maura stood with her, looking out at the Tower, street lamps, trees, and buildings that they could see from their window. "It's gorgeous, isn't it?"

Jane turned her head to look at her friend. Her face was lit up by the glow of the moonlight, her mouth pulled up in the corners, her eyes wide as they looked around the city. Jane was looking at Maura when she answered. "Yeah. Gorgeous."

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They spent the first few days adjusting their internal clocks. As much as Jane wanted to explore this foreign city, she also was glad for the time to reacclimate. They found a few coffee shops and restaurants near them and went grocery shopping for some fruits and other things to have in the room. Maura dedicated two hours each day to writing, time that Jane had decided to dedicate to reading or Duolingo. She wouldn't be fluent, but at least she could ask where the bathroom was and understand the response.

Maura set up their first outing, keeping the plans to herself. "At least tell me if I need to dress up."

"No need. Dress comfortably." This was all the permission Jane needed to pull out her BPD sweatpants and a comfy t-shirt. Maura only shook her head, not saying a word, a smile on her face.

"You said 'comfortably'!" Jane shouted in an accusatory tone at Maura's face.

"I did, I wasn't planning on saying anything." Her friend laughed as Jane changed, and she chattered away about lunch plans, when she wanted to write, and her desire to take ridiculous touristy photos.

Jane assured her that they would take all the photos she wanted to. "We need more pictures together, anyway. And my new apartment will need decorating." It was the first time in days that Jane had mentioned her upcoming move, and almost immediately she regretted it. She could see the flash of sadness on Maura's face, her hands fidgeting, followed by her immediate compartmentalization. Trying to bring levity to the room again, Jane smiled. "So tell me more about this adventure."

Maura brought her on a guided tour of the Catacombs. If anyone else had brought her, she would have found it creepy. Most people don't tour graveyards. But this was different. Jane learned about the transfer of hundreds of bodies from overflowing cemeteries to underground quarries, under the cover of darkness so citizens wouldn't be alarmed. They walked along corridors with bones lining the walls in elegant patterns, their tour guide explaining the painstaking work that went into the design. Unable to resist, Jane leaned over to Maura and whispered, "this looks like a scene right out of Scooby-Doo." The Doctor's stifled laughter and the looks of other tourists were worth the glare of the guide.

At a Cafe along the Seine, while eating sandwiches and sipping wine, a woman approached and spoke with Maura. Jane was not proficient enough to figure out what the woman was saying, but watched as a flustered Maura blushed and answered her back. The woman gave an awkward smile and rushed away, nodding at Jane as she left. Not wanting to be left out, Jane looked at the still red blonde, waiting for an answer to her unasked question. Maura gave a nervous chuckle before explaining. "She said she thought we made a cute couple."

Jane furrowed her brows and looked toward the door, where the woman had made a quick exit. "What brought that on?" Looking at the way they were sitting, she didn't notice anything different. They weren't any more affectionate than usual, although she was aware that some people found their affection for one another unusual. Shrugging, she turned back to the younger woman. "I mean, I know we aren't the last people to be approached awkwardly in public. Frankie and Nina get a comment monthly about how beautiful their baby will be." She took a sip of wine. "And it was only Ma once."

This made Maura laugh, her fingers trailing along the bottom of her wine glass. "Your mother says a lot of intrusive things. And asks a lot of questions. It's endearing."

"It's annoying."

Laughing, Maura took a sip of her wine before gesturing to the door, where the woman had left. "What kind of questions do you think your Mother would ask us?"

"If we were in a relationship?" Jane clarified before continuing, waiting for the nod of the Doctor's head. "Probably the same thing she would ask any lesbian couple. Who pays for dinner? Who asks who on the date? Who is going to carry her grandchildren, because so far only one of her children has succeeded in that?"

"Which one is the man?" Maura added, her eyebrows raised at that last word as she waited to watch Jane's reaction.

"Yes, she would ask that. And I thought we established years ago that I would be the guy." Jane smiled to herself as she remembered that case at Merch, going undercover, turning her head and being face to face with Maura's…

"But Jane, isn't the point of a same-sex relationship, that neither one of us is 'the guy'?"

Maura punctuated her words with air quotations, making Jane snort. "You do have a point there, Maur."

Both women dropped the conversation and went back to their meals. It wasn't the first time they had flirted with the idea of dating one another. But for once, it was the first time Jane had felt sorry to see the conversation end. As Maura ate, jotting things down about the setting that she could use in her story later, Jane wondered how her Mother would react to her dating the younger blonde. She had always seen Maura as another daughter, and certainly treated her with as much kindness as she treated the rest of her children. Plus, Maura was a Doctor, so she had that going for her.

"Jane." Her friend's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. "Are you okay?"

Jane's nod was slow as she blinked herself to reality. "Yes. Sorry. I was just thinking that I haven't texted Ma in a few days, I should do that." Maura accepted this response, her eyes floating back to her notebook. Jane let out a breath, careful not to draw attention to herself. She did send out a quick text to her mother, along with a photo of Maura next to a skull. It looks like you girls are having a great time. Looking back at Maura, Jane smiled. Maura was very concentrated on her descriptions, her brow furrowed and her lips pursed. Every so often she would look up, cock her head as she looked at something, then scribble down another description. Jane found the sight amusing, yet endearing. Watching, she realized that before she worried about how her Mother would react, she needed to figure out her own feelings first.

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A few days later, they visited the Louvre. Jane had never been a fan of art museums, but she knew that this was the trip Maura didn't want to miss. "This is where the Mona Lisa is, right? Let's go see it first, and look at all these other things later."

Maura grabbed her hand, pulling her back to the Doctor's side. "No." She said it in a matter-of-fact tone that made Jane stop. "Everyone goes there first. The best thing to do is wait until closing time, when crowds have thinned."

Jane couldn't help but groan. That was the only piece of artwork that even slightly piqued her interest. Holding a map of the vast museum in her hands, she sighed, ignoring the amused look on Maura's face. "Fine. As long as we still get to see it."

"I promise, you'll see it." Maura giggled, pulling her into a room.

The museum proved to be more interesting than Jane had anticipated. For one, it was interesting to see how many "Virgin and Child" sculptures could fit in a single room. Walking through the sculptures, Jane watched the progression and noted the subtle differences in style. Meanwhile, Maura chatted away, throwing out words like 'gothic', or 'renaissance' off the top of her head. Jane never needed to read a plaque, or plug in and listen. She had a walking encyclopedia who was raised by an art teacher at her side.

As they made their way into the rooms with Roman and Greek statues, they came across one that Jane recognized immediately. "Maura, please tell me there's not a body in it this time."

Her friend paused before answering, her head cocked to one side. "That would be highly unlikely, but I can't rule it out."

Shaking her head, Jane linked elbows with her, pulling her forward. "Well go stand next to it so I can get a picture."

"What? Why?"

"You wanted to take touristy photos! This is a touristy photo." She positioned Maura next to the giant sculpture and backed away until she could fit both in her picture. "Maur, pose like the statue."

"What should I do with my arms?" She waved them around for emphasis.

"Whatever you want. Imagine what she may have been doing." Reluctantly, Maura did just that. Her left knee angled and her body twisted slightly, she placed her right arm over her stomach, and her left pushed forward, as if holding up a mirror. Jane snapped the picture, walking back toward her friend. "Very intellectual, Maura. Do me." Jane stood in the same place, waiting for Maura to get her framing right. Once she held up her phone, Jane extended her arms to the left side of her body and started swaying her hips like she was doing the hula. Laughing, Maura took her picture, her head shaking.

As she approached, she held her arm out, lacing it back through Jane's elbow as they fell back into step. "It's highly unlikely that anyone in ancient Greece would know how to hula." She wore a smile on her face, knowing full well that Jane was messing with her.

"Well, I'll take my chances. You could be wrong this one time."

"Perhaps." The Doctor conceded with a smile, pulling Jane into another room.

The best part of the Louvre was definitely watching Maura. The way she examined every detail of the paintings and sculptures, her hazel eyes darting around, taking them all in. The way she spouted facts like it was nothing, again making Jane wonder where she kept all that information. It was, of all things, stone statues of winged bulls with human heads, that made Maura stop in her tracks. Jane understood it to a point, they were massive and made her feel small. Jane placed her hand in the small of Maura's back, trying to move her along, but her feet were planted. "Tell me what you're thinking, Maur."

"It's just," she gestured in the air, her hands not settling on any one thing, "these statues are over three thousand years old, Jane. And made from stone. And they're so well preserved, and detailed, and here. It's amazing."

Jane had a memory at that moment, of Maura going on about being in awe of what human beings can do. It was endearing at the time, but now, seeing it in action, watching the look on her face, Jane knew this was incredible for her. "Yeah. It's amazing." She responded, her eyes fixated on her friend's face.

They made it to see the Mona Lisa before closing, Jane shocked to realize just how small it was. She then dragged her friend to take more photos in the gardens and along the Place de la Concorde. Then they returned to their hotel room so Maura could write. While Maura worked on her project, Jane recounted the memories from the day. Maura's laughter at her dancing, her never-ending knowledge that she shared so willingly, and that look of awestruck wonder that made her so beautiful. Looking across the room at Maura, Jane felt her stomach sink as she thought about leaving. This trip was making everything so hard.

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It was during a morning writing session that Jane realized that Maura was staring at her. She tried to ignore it at first, returning to her phone, but every time she looked up, Maura was looking at her. "Am I distracting you? I can go work out for a bit if I'm bothering you."

"No, please don't." She closed the top of her laptop. "I'm describing you."

"Why?" Jane's brows furrowed as she looked at her friend, her phone falling to her lap.

"They told me my characters and setting were flat. I need to practice using my senses to make people and characters come alive." With that, she reopened her laptop, going back to typing.

"Does it have to be me?" Jane asked as she watched Maura look up at her again.

"Whom else do you suggest I describe?" At this Jane shrugged, picking her phone back up and listening to the green owl teach her French. At one point, she looked over and saw Maura watching her again, her eyes focused on Jane's feet dangling in the chair. Jane began to wiggle them, making Maura roll her eyes. "You have to pretend I'm not watching you. Act natural."

Jane returned her feet to normal, stilling them. "Okay, bossy." This elicited a chuckle from the Doctor, putting a small smile on Jane's face. Jane decided to focus on her Duolingo, finding her French skills improving. When Maura closed her laptop, standing once the hour was up, Jane held out a hand for the Doctor's device. "Do I get to read it?"

Maura's eyes grew wide as she held her computer close to her. "No. It's private."

"Maura! You wrote about me! I should be able to read it!" She was pouting as she whined, her hands opening and closing.

The Doctor chuckled at the sight in front of her, shaking her head. "No, Jane. It's private. And it's not important, it was just an exercise." At Jane's huff of displeasure, she continued. "But give me a few days, I want you to read my revisions on my manuscript."

Playing up her disappointment, Jane huffed. "Fine. That kind of makes up for your secrecy." The only response from the Doctor was more chuckling as she tucked away her computer and changed for the day.

________________________________________________________________

The day they went to Notre Dame, it was rainy. Maura fretted in their hotel room about her hair, and the rain messing it up. "It's the perfect day to pull it back, then." Jane tried to reason with her as she redressed. "You always look nice when you pull it back."

"You think so?" The honey-blonde poked her head out from the bathroom, her hair gathered in her hands as she looked toward the former Detective.

"I do." Taking this positive response, the Doctor disappeared. If Jane was being honest, her friend always looked amazing. No matter what she decided to do with her hair, or what outfit she chose to wear, she always looked amazing. "Do you think I would lie about that?"

Emerging from the bathroom with a smile and high ponytail, the younger woman reached for her umbrella and purse. "I think if you thought it would get me out of the room faster, you might."

Stopping Maura from leaving with her hand on the door, Jane made sure to look in her eyes, her face soft as she spoke. "You're gorgeous, my friend."

Maura stifled her smile, as any humble person would. "Somehow that sounds familiar."

"Yeah, a know-it-all told me that, once." With a chuckle, they left, walking side by side.

Upon entering the cathedral, Jane crossed herself before she lost her breath. Maura's hand in the small of her back kept her moving, but her eyes hadn't come down yet. The ceilings were so high, the room so large, she felt small in comparison. Maura walked at her pace through it all, allowing her to examine the artwork and the architecture. They both stopped to stare at one of the rose windows, high in the air, and at that moment Jane knew what Maura meant when she said that she was in awe of what humans could do.

While admiring the high ceilings and stained glass, Maura's voice pulled her out of her trance, low and reverent as she admired the cathedral. "Standing here as a non-believer, I have to admit that I understand." She met Jane's eyes, and continued at her furrowed brows and curious look. "I mean, just being in here makes me feel insignificant. Like there has to be something else out there, something bigger than myself. It's easy to see why many turn to religious beliefs when they are looking for something more."

Grabbing the younger woman's hand, Jane gave it a squeeze. "You know you're significant, right?"

She nodded. "I do. And I hope you know that too." Jane realized she was blushing, heat rising to her cheeks as she saw Maura's genuine smile. She gently moved Jane along to discover more within the walls.

They stumbled upon an altar with a picture of the Virgin and Child in the background. Red and white flags (Polish, Maura told her with a smile) hung on either side. The picture depicted the mother and Jesus with dark complexions, brilliant gold halos on top of their heads. Maura began talking about Black Madonnas found elsewhere in Europe. "Considering Jesus was reportedly middle eastern, these paintings would be more historically accurate," she explained, as Jane pulled her to see more stained glass windows.

It was the window that seemed to depict a journey that caught Maura's attention, her eyes following the detail. The light shone through this window just right, making Maura's face glow in shades of red, a stray strand of hair grazing against her cheek. Jane's heart skipped a beat, her stomach fluttered, and she resisted the urge to wrap her arms around the awe inspiring woman she called her best friend. Before she could stop it, she spoke. "So beautiful."

Maura, not moving her eyes from the window, answered back. "Yeah, it is."

As their vacations began to come to a close, Jane found it harder and harder to imagine returning to a life without Maura. They talked about plans, Jane's moving process, Skype schedules, and holidays. As much as Jane didn't want to think about it, she knew planning was the best way to combat Maura's anxiety about her leaving. As for her, she was happy to wake up next to Maura every day, to watch her as she slept, to see the subtle changes in her face as she wrote. It was in the quiet of one of those moments, when she had to resist the urge to press a gentle kiss to her lips, that Jane realized what she was walking away from. That she may be leaving the love of her life along with her family to pursue this next step in her career. Sometimes it made her question her decision.

________________________________________________________________

Their last big tour was to Versailles. The grounds were large, the gardens full, and Jane had to fight to keep her face neutral as Maura twirled in the hall of mirrors like a little girl. "Jane, can you imagine attending a ball in the past?"

"What, with the tight bodices, and the hoop skirts so wide they make your ass look huge?" Maura laughed, and Jane felt a pull in her gut. "Yeah, I'm gonna pass."

"Jane! You looked amazing in your Revolutionary War dress." Her hands played with the edges of Jane's jacket. "It would be like that, but with more frills."

"Maura, when would I ever say 'more frills'?" Maura laughed at her, dropping the jacket and moving away, and for a moment Jane wondered if she felt it too. Pushing down her feelings, she continued as normal. "What, are you gonna teach me to waltz too?"

"Oh, not the Waltz." She turned away and wandered down the hall, knowing Jane would follow behind her. "The Waltz only became popular after the Revolution, after the palace at Versailles fell out of use."

"Well, excuse me for being ahead of my time." She couldn't help but laugh with Maura as she turned back around to face the taller woman, walking backwards in the hall.

"If it helps, I've always admired that about you." She caught sight of herself in the mirrors and twirled, slow and graceful, making Jane glad she still had her phone out to capture it on camera. She thought back to that revolutionary war era dress, Maura done up in frills and bows, her hair in a graceful yet intricate updo, and she remembered how beautiful she looked that day. If only she had realized what was right in front of her sooner.

They made their way into another room, either the war room or the peace room. Jane wasn't paying attention as Maura spoke, and was instead looking at all the gold that adorned the walls. "How rich do you have to be to cover all the walls with gold?"

"Gilded bronze." Maura corrected, admiring the large circular painting on the wall.

"Okay. How rich do you need to be to cover all the walls with gilded bronze?"

Maura laughed at the question, bringing a smile to Jane's face. She pointed behind them, into the hallway. "Actually, the real impressive thing here is the mirrors."

"The mirrors are impressive?"

Maura nodded, looking into Jane's eyes as she spoke. "Yes, mirrors in the 18th century were very expensive, only the elite could afford them. That whole hallway was meant to remind allies and enemies how rich the French monarchy was."

Glancing back to the hallway, Jane couldn't help but scoff. "That's a lot of money to blow on an ego boost."

"I found the effect rather striking. Didn't you?" Maura wasn't looking at her anymore as she spoke, her head tilted upward as she examined paintings on the ceiling.

Thinking back to Maura in the hall of mirrors, twirling as she caught sight of herself, Jane couldn't help but smile. "The effect was definitely striking." Her friend laughed at Jane's tone before taking a hold of her hand, pulling her to another room.

When they finished in the palace, Jane pulled Maura into the gardens. Maura had told her they were almost three times the size of Central Park. They spent the rest of the afternoon and evening looking at trees in boxes, hunting down fountains, and watching water shows in the most elaborate outdoor setting Jane had ever seen. The few pictures she took of Maura near some blossoms she knew she would treasure forever.

________________________________________________________________

"Let's go somewhere nice to eat." Maura's voice pulled Jane from her haze. It was their last day in the city of lights, that fact made more real as Jane checked into her flight. "I can get us reservations at a restaurant near the Tower."

"I'm not opposed." The words sent her friend into a flurry of activity. Between looking at review, getting changed, and making calls, she was all over the room in varying stages of undress. It wasn't the first time she had seen the Doctor in varying stages of undress. A month ago it would have been just another day in their lives. But now Jane found herself looking away, trying to forget how her creamy skin contrasted with her deep purple bra. She breathed a sigh of relief as Maura emerged from the bathroom in a pink blouse, her hair straight instead of her usual loose curls.

"I've found a restaurant." She said with a triumphant grin. "Get dressed, we leave in a half an hour."

Jane pulled her one good white blouse out of her suitcase. It had black piping along the edges and down the center of the shirt. This paired with her black pants was as fancy as she was willing to get. Emerging from the bathroom, she breathed a sigh of relief at Maura's nod of approval. She had added a rose gold bracelet to her ensemble, as well as some simple silver earrings. "You look great." Jane breathed, hoping it didn't sound as awkward as it made her feel.

"Thank you. That top is stunning on you." The returned compliment made the former Detective blush. "I haven't seen it before."

"Ma picked it out about three years ago. So naturally, I haven't worn it." Her explanation made the honey-blonde snort, her head shaking. "I know, it's silly. But sometimes she picks out clothing with an ulterior motive, so I don't wear it when she wants me to."

"Jane, you have to let that black dress thing go."

Grabbing her wallet and following Maura out the door, Jane corrected her. "That wasn't the only time, Maura."

The restaurant was nice enough, tucked away into a corner, the Tower seen only in the distance. Maura ordered the duck, while Jane stuck with a meal she knew she would like, beef tenderloin. For a while they talked about Maura's book, and the changes she had made. They then reminisced about their favorite parts of their vacation together, planning to choose another location to visit together in a year. But as dinner came, they had to address their impending separation. "I fear that this vacation has only increased my sadness about you leaving." Maura broke the ice, her face down as she spoke.

Reaching across the table, Jane caressed her hand, the touch foreign to her now with her realized feelings. "Am I still sad? Absolutely. But I don't regret this time I've had to spend with you." Maura's lips pulled up for a split second as she tried to smile through her sadness. "Besides, I'll be back before you know it for Thanksgiving."

Huffing, she pulled her hand away from Jane's, returning to her meal. "I know. And when I have long weekends, I can come down for a visit."

"Exactly!" This made the younger woman smile brighter as she sat up taller in her seat. "Frankie said the drive wasn't too bad."

"Frankie made the drive?"

Nodding, Jane took a bite of her food. "Yeah, he drove my car down there, and Ma drove him back. He and Tommy set up my bed, and left my apartment keys under my floor mats."

"So you're all set up."

"The rest of my stuff will arrive in two days. I'm just waiting for an email from the FBI outlining my first few days." At the mention of the organization, her mind flashed to the man who had offered her the job, the special agent who asked her for pictures of Paris. The special agent she hadn't answered in a month. Even though she was slowly realizing that a relationship between them was not going to work out, she hadn't meant to ghost him. "Shit."

"What's the matter?" Maura looked concerned, her eyes blinking as she looked at her friend.

"Agent Davies. He asked me for pictures of our vacation, and I've ignored him all month long."

"Oh." Maura's reply was curt, shocking Jane with the harshness of it. "You'll see him in a few days. You can catch him up then."

"I know." Taking a sip of her wine, she continued. "I wasn't gonna text him right now. It's our last night in Paris. Tonight everything is about you." Maura seemed to relax at this, loosening her shoulders and speaking in a normal voice.

After dinner they walked along the Seine, taking in the sights and sounds together. They reminisced about cases, funny stories with Jane's family, and their significant others who never seemed to stick. Maura was careful not to bring up Davies, but why, Jane couldn't understand. Maybe she was sensing the doubts Jane was feeling. She hoped Maura wouldn't figure out why she was having doubts. That would be harder to explain.

They found themselves standing on a bridge. A ferry boat was out in the distance. The sky was getting dark. Maura took a moment, closing her eyes and listening to the sounds. Jane took the opportunity to snap a picture. Maura saw the flash, shaking her head. "Jane, let me see it."

"It's gorgeous, Maura." She was gorgeous. She couldn't say that out loud again. But she turned her phone around so Maura could see it, grinning when she nodded her head in approval. "We should get one together."

"Jane, I don't know if I want to take pictures."

"C'mon, Maura." She turned her camera around and stood next to her friend. Demonstrating on her screen, she showed her friend. "See those lights back there? It will make for a nice photo." Her friend nodded, and Jane wrapped her arm around Maura's waist, holding her other arm out to take the photo. Maura's arm wrapped around her back. "One. Two. Three." Jane smiled and took a picture, realizing only after the flash that Maura had been looking not at the camera, but at Jane's face. She turned to her friend, feigning upset with her voice. "Maura! You have to look at the camera. It'll be pretty!"

But Maura was looking at her with soft, wide eyes, her smile broad and unwavering. "Yeah, pretty." It seemed as though Maura was leaning closer, her eyes closing and mouth parting. And before Jane could stop herself, she closed that gap, letting her lips meet Maura's. Her hand fell, placing her phone in her pocket so she could put both her hands on the younger woman's waist, pulling her closer. The small moan Maura let out made Jane weak at the knees, and she opened her mouth for more.

But as she did, Maura pulled away, biting her lips and looking away. "I'm sorry." She covered the lower half of her face with her hand.

Jane wasn't sorry. Everything she had been figuring out was answered once her lips met Maura's. Her past actions, their closeness, the way she was drawn to Maura, it all made sense. And yet, now her friend was standing across from her looking ashamed. In one moment, Jane had figured out what she needed, and lost it all at once. "Oh my God."

"Jane, wait."

Jane began to back away. "Oh my God."

"Jane, please!"

Jane ran. Even as she could hear her friend pleading with her. She ran, letting the hot tears spill from her face. She ran to the place that had been home for the last month. Traces of Maura were everywhere. She couldn't escape. She paced the floor of their room. At some point, she would have to face Maura, have to face the shame and disappointment. Catching sight of her pajamas, she breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe it would work.

Maura had tried to give her space. She returned to the room half an hour after Jane had. But Jane had decided to hide, wrapping herself in blankets and pretending to sleep. "Jane?" Her friend called out, her voice small in the large space. Jane stuck with her charade, not moving, evening her breathing. "I want to talk. Can we talk?" She could feel Maura's presence standing next to her. When she said nothing, Maura cursed. "Shit." She kicked off her heels and crawled on the other side of the bed. "What have I done?" A part of Jane wanted to roll over and hug her, was angry at herself for causing her friend so much pain. But another didn't want to face the shame, the embarrassment she caused her friend. She had just lost so much, she couldn't lose any more. So she stayed wrapped in her cocoon, ignoring the words of her friend, her heart breaking into more tiny pieces.

Maura fell asleep after about an hour, though Jane could tell it was restless. She tossed and turned, and the look on her face was not the serene picture it had been for the past few weeks. Jane on the other hand, did not sleep. She replayed that kiss in her mind over and over, reveling in the moan, the feel of Maura's hand on her hip. Then she replayed the look of shame, the way Maura crumpled in on herself. She watched it again and again. Now Maura knew. Maura knew Jane loved her, and she didn't feel the same. It was too much to bear.

Jane left an hour earlier for her flight, hailing a taxi at the front desk. She scribbled a note to Maura before leaving, dropping it on her pillow. I hope you can forget this someday. She didn't sleep until she was on her plane, the neck pillow squashed up against the window. No one teased her about the print, no one told her she had to try to stay awake. The person next to her did not watch documentaries that made her fall asleep. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. She blew it.

________________________________________________________________

Three days later in her new apartment, her phone rings. Picking it up, she is met with an accusatory voice on the other end. "What happened?" It was Frankie, always concerned. Thankfully, Maura had people in Boston looking out for her.

"Frankie, I fucked up." She sat on her bed, the only piece of furniture she had unpacked.

"Hence why I'm calling you. Janie, Maura won't talk about the trip. She's just really down. She'd not even talking to Ma. What happened?"

Free hand rubbing her eyes, Jane answered. "I kissed her."

There was a long pause, "I don't understand why that would make her upset."

"Frankie, she was ashamed. Maybe of me, maybe not, I don't know. All I know is that I realized I'm in love with her, we kissed, and now she's ashamed."

"Janie. She's not ashamed of you."

Letting out a breath through her nose, she continued. "Well, if she wasn't, she is now."

"You guys need to talk."

"I don't disagree. But I need time."

Jane could hear his car door shut. "Well, don't wait too long."

"I'll try. Don't tell Ma."

Her brother laughed. "I'll try. But you know me, I fall for all her tricks."

"Great." After saying their goodbyes, she hung up. Opening the gallery on her phone, she looked through all the photos she had of Maura. Posing next to a skull, Admiring paintings at the Louvre, posing like statues, smelling trees at Versailles. That last photo, of the two of them together on that bridge would forever be her favorite.

________________________________________________________________

"Janie! I'm lost!" Her Mother had this weird habit of yelling through the phone, so Jane put it on speakerphone and left it on her counter.

"Ma, I sent you the address!"

"I know, but Ron's GPS isn't working and my phone keeps sending me in circles!"

Jane had to laugh. Her Mother had a hard time with technology. "Where is Ron?"

"Back at the hotel. He's researching GPSes."

"Well, send me your location, and I'll come meet you." Her Mother had been good at that. For a while after Maura's kidnapping, she used to do it to give Jane peace of mind. With a ping, Angela sent her location, and was just a couple of blocks away.

Jane pulled into the empty parking lot, and parked right next to Ron's white car. Her Mother got out when Jane did, and despite her protests, wrapped Jane in a huge hug. "I've wanted to do this for two months, missy. Deal with it."

Jane hadn't seen her Mom since leaving for France. After a week of Maura and Jane both being stateside, Ron decided to take Angela on a road trip. They had spent a few days in New York City, a couple of days at the Hamptons, had been to Hershey Pennysylvania, and had updated Jane on their journey along the way. "Well, I'm sorry to hear about the GPS." Jane teased her Mother, putting her hands in her pockets. "You can just follow me home, though."

"Sounds like a plan." At this Jane nodded, reaching for her door. "Oh, Jane! You'll never guess what I saw on the road!"

Stopping, Jane turned her head to face her Mother. "Was it the Mystery Machine?"

Angela laughed. "Not this time! No, we saw a turtle. Ron got out to help it across the road."

"That's nice, Ma." Jane smiled, reaching again for her car door handle. "Let's head to my apartment."

"Or maybe it was a tortoise." Jane stopped again as she spoke, sighing. "I could never tell those apart too good."

"Ma, it's hot. Let's get out of the sun. Then you can text your favorite Doctor and find out for sure."

"Well I'm just saying, I'm glad it wasn't a snapping turtle. Ron needs his fingers, you know." Angela laughed, her eyes following a car pulling in behind them.

Jane was growing tired, and had forgotten how sometimes it could be hard to get Angela back on task. "Ma, just get in the car! You can tell me all about the turtle or tortoise later!"

But as she reached for the door handle, she heard a voice from behind her that stopped her in her tracks. "Angela? Jane? What are you guys doing here?"

#fanfiction #my fic #rizzles #rizzles fic #not a couple #rizzoli and isles

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mayraki · 4 years ago

Text

CHAPTER THREE

“community service can suck my dick”

CHAPTER TWO

SERIES MASTERLIST

MY MASTERLIST

who is max belinsky?

concept boards for the new characters

summary: Max Belinsky and JJ Maybank are the two troublemakers of Outer Banks. Going to parties, getting into trouble, having an attitude and being the two people you don’t mess with are the perfect ways to describe them. What would happen when the two people who seem to have trouble follow them around meet? One thing is fore sure, they didn’t expect this outcome.

“It was not like that Fred!” Max yelled for the third time on the conversation with her big brother.

“And what? What was it then? Max! You brought a guy home with our little brother on the house!” Fred said.

After Cody accidentally talked about JJ and how he wanted to go surfing with him, the conversation took a turn and Fred ended up finding out that he was at the house the night before. He didn’t like it not even a little bit, even if Max told him the truth multiple times.

“So, let me get this straight, you bring home the guy that almost got into a fight at a party and is doing community service with you? Great taste in men that you have Max!” Fred said sarcastically.

“Oh! And you have the greatest taste of all time! Have you forgotten about the annoying Alice?! Oh, no! Baby girl that’s not how girls dress! Fred! Would you like to take me shopping?! I need a driver! Girls don’t curse!” Max was saying with a high pitch voice and moving her hands dramatically, pretending to be Fred’s ex-girlfriend.

“That’s not my point!” Fred shouted.

“Yeah, I know! Mine either! Because I didn’t brought JJ here for the reason that you dirty mind thinks! Nothing happened!”

“It better!” Fred said pointing at Max.

“Don’t point your dirty finger at me.” She grabbed the tip of his finger and quickly moved it backwards.

Fred let out a big sigh after Max walked away to put on her shoes. A fight between these two was common, since he had to be the head of the house meant having Max and Cody on their best behaviour, but with Max’s attitude was difficult not ending the conversation with a fight. Of course, that didn’t mean they didn’t love each other or that they didn’t had a good relationship, but sometimes it was their opposite personalities that would cause a huge fight.

“I have to go, I’ll come home late tonight.” Max said dryly. Fred nodded while following her sister with his eyes. Once she was on the door, she stopped and turned around, locking eyes with her big brother. “I love you.”

He let out a little smile. “I love you too, Maggie.”

“There she is!” JJ said when they both arrived at the beach at the same time.

“Hi Maybank.”

“Hi princess.” He said with a smile. Max looked at him with the ‘seriously?’ expression but JJ shook his head not regretting it at all. “C’mon, I know deep down you like it.”

“No, all I’m feeling right now is that I want to punch you. It’s too early for this shit.”

“C’mon! It’s a beautiful morning, the sun is shining and I have..” he pointed at his boot. “For later.” Max understood what he was saying and immediately shook her head disgusted.

“Believe me, I’ll never smoke one that came from your boot.”

JJ shrugged his shoulders. “Your loss.”

“It’s not much of a loss, JJ.” JJ winked at her but she just rolled her eyes, tired of the conversation.

“Maybank. Belinsky.” They both turned they heads to the left to see Officer Johnson standing up with his uniform and a cup of coffee on his hand. “Are you two ready?”

“Yes, sr!” They both said at the same time and then looked at each other surprise by the coincidence.

“This is my worst nightmare.” Johnson said before walking closer to the shore.

“JJ! Stop throwing trash to my designated area!” Max said once she saw a new piece of paper on the area she cleaned more than two times. She would move on and then later find another piece trash and a JJ trying to hold his laughter. “Dickhead!”

“Belinsky! Language!” Johnson said, but when he looked back at his phone Max flipped JJ off.

“Real mature of you!” He yelled before letting out a loud laugh.

Max turned around to try calm herself and not get into more trouble with Johnson, when she saw two preteens walking next to the shore. Her eyes went wide open when she recognised her little brother and some girl, they were walking pretty closely and he was making her laugh a lot.

“JJ!” Max whispered after ‘calmly’ walking towards JJ.

“I didn’t throw anything this time, don’t kill me.” He said but Max quickly shook her head. She walked next to JJ and pretended to be looking trash with her little stick, to not caught Johnson’s attention. “What are you doing?”

“See those people next to the shore back there?” She asked pointing with her head to where Cody was. JJ looked back and nodded.

“Is that your brother?” He asked and Max quickly nodded.

“He’s with a girl!”

“So?” He asked confused.

“What do you mean so? He’s in a date! The beach, the walk under the sun, they’re very close!”

“So what? He’s in the age of starting to go and like girls more than ever, you know, horm-”

“Oh, don’t even say it...” Max complained. “He’s my little brother!”

“Yes, and it’s not cool when your big sis interrupts a date, is it?” JJ started. He grabbed Max’s arm and walked her to the other side. “Now, we’re going to continue with what we’re doing because the asshole back there,” JJ pointed with his head at Johnson “is already starting to think a new way of ruining our lives, so, go back to your designated area, so we can leave as soon as possible, princess”

JJ was expecting for her to say something about the ‘princess’ nickname, but instead, she didn’t say anything, she was trying to get the idea of her little brother with a girlfriend out of her head.

Max didn’t realized how much time had passed since she put on her headphones and started to pick up the trash from the beach. She looked over to JJ and he looked bored as ever, Johnson was looking to his phone and that’s when an idea came into Max’s mind.

She punctured a peace of paper that was on the sand with her little stick and walked closer to the shore, she then paused the music but kept the headphones on her ears. JJ was trying to punctured a cup into his stick but was struggling because of it’s thickness, that’s when Max walked closer to him and waived her hand to caught his attention, she pointed at her eyes and then mouthed ‘watch this’ at him. He nodded confused but didn’t say anything, since Johnson looked up from his phone once Max started to walk away.

“Hey! Belinsky!” Johnson said walking closer to Max, she took the opportunity and started to ran farther away. “Belinsky! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” He started to run after her and JJ let out a loud laugh when he saw Johnson struggling by keeping up with Max. “Belinsky! Stop right now!”

Max thought that it was enough since she heard Johnson running out of breath. She stopped and quickly turned around. “Sr?” She took off her headphones and looked at the Officer confused. “Are you alright?” She asked innocently.

“Why were you running?!” He asked trying to get his breathing back to normal.

Max lifted his stick and showed the piece of paper stuck to it. “The wind blew it away...” she shrugged her shoulders and then walked back to where JJ was, trying to control his laughter.

“Oh my god! His face was hilarious!” JJ said between laughs. “When he realized that you started to run was priceless!”

After finishing with the hours of community service for the day, JJ talked Max into walking to Kie’s restaurant, The Wreck, he was sure his friends were going to be there and he wanted to tell them the funny anecdote. That’s when Max thought that she hadn’t seen Sam all day, so she texted her and told her to meet her there.

JJ introduced Max to John B and Pope, they both looked like most Pogues around Outer Banks. John B was rocking an open shirt and Max liked that outfit, he seemed like the guy who would always be up for an adventure. Then it was Pope, who Max immediately recognised him as the brain of the group. He started to talk about his future and what he wanted to do. Kie was also there, trying to keep everyone on their best behaviour since it was her family’s restaurant and she didn’t want any mess. But then she calmed down when Sam and her started to talk about some documentary about turtles they were both watching.

After a while, Sarah Cameron walked into the restaurant. Max immediately recognised her since she cleaned the Cameron’s pool a while back. Sarah was the only one who would check on her on those hot days and offer her some water. She then added her to the list of ‘Kooks I don’t hate’, wich only had two names in it: Kie and Sarah.

“So... you two are dating?” Max asked pointing at Sarah and then at John B. They both nodded and Max just stayed in silence for a little while. “Huh.”

“My words exactly.” Kie said. “Hey! I almost forgot! Are we doing the competition this year?”

They guys shook their head simultaneously.

“No can do, you’re invited this year, remember? It’s not fair.” John B said.

“But it’s so fun, c’mon guys!” Kie complained but the guys still shook their heads.

“What competition?” Sam asked and Kie turned to her.

“We have this thing... every year the Kooks have this fancy party, it’s less fancy than the midsummer, but the Kooks still love it.”

“Them and their privilege ass.” JJ complained.

“We made this two years ago.” Kie continued ignoring JJ’s comment. “The team who can steal the most alcohol from their party without being caught, wins... Wait a minute, Sam and Max can do it! They can go against you guys!”

Pope shook his head. “Count me out, my dad’s making me work at the party with him.”

“That’s even better, now the teams are even, two against two.”

Max turned her head to Sam and a little smile appeared on Max’s face when her friend nodded with a smirk. “Count us in.”

“This is going to be fun.” Sarah said looking at John B, who gave a little nod to JJ.

“Are you sure you want to go against us?” JJ asked.

“You clearly don’t know us very well.” Max shook her head.

“Alright then, may the best team win, Belinsky.”

“Bring it on, Maybank.”

CHAPTER FOUR

chapter 3 is here! I would love to know what you guys think of the story so far! sending you all the love and thank you for reading❤️

TAGLIST

@iamaunicorn4704 @onceinagenerationrage @lasnaro @k-k0129 @x-lulu @oopsiedoopsie23 @baby-pogue @roamingmarauder @ponyboys-sunsets @agirlwholovescoffee @thorsangel @sunflowerbabe81 @scandalousfemale @deviouscharitos @badbitsh13 @thehomeiknow @cilorawr

if your username it’s like this for some reason I couldn’t tag you, I’m sorry :(

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rxtten-kinhelp · 3 years ago

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fashion board for a manhunt dream !!

#[outfit board] do your shoes need shining?!#tommy.txt [he/disc]#manhunt dream #dsmp kin #manhunt kin #queue for the queue god

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jiminwreckedme · 4 years ago

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Cottage of the Seven Dads.

DIONYSUS (1)

Other drabbles - Masterpost Members - OT7 bangtan (reader insert also present.) Word count - 3.8K Genre - pure bangtan as dads fluff. (Rated G)

“Yes, we are her fathers and no, we are not gay.”

A/n - The drabbles follow an order, it’s suggested you read the previous parts as listed in the masterpost to to understand the follow of events!

“Hello?”

You turn around at the tugging sensation of you shirt and look down to see a small girl, head barely reaching up to your hips, looking up at you, her eyes big, cheeks flushed red. She’s adorable with her straight, jet black waist length hair, the studded hair snap that was holding back her fringes matching the tiny demin overalls she was dressed in. She was nervous you could tell, clutching the straps of her backpack tightly and softly tapping her white sneakers on the tiled floor.

You crouch down, meeting her at eye level as you smiled, trying to be as warm as possible.

“Hi there! Are you the one who-” You act it out in the air. “-pulled my shirt?”

She nods fast. “What’s your name?”

“My name?”

“Dad says I shouldn’t talk to strangers,” She scratches the back of her head. “But I need help....So, let’s be friends? What’s your name?”

You laugh softly, “Y/n. And you are?”

“Ariel, though my parents call me grandma.” She rolls her eyes before quickly changing her demeanor and holding her hand out. “I’d like it if you call me Aria.”

“Aria.” You take her hand, amused. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” She nods and you purse your lips stop yourself laughing. This child couldn’t be more than 5 years old but from whatever little you had seen, she undoubtedly had the soul of a 75 year old. No wonder they called her grandma.

“So Aria, how may I help you?”

“I’m lost. Y/n. I can’t find my parents anywhere.”

In the middle of such a huge hospital? Uh oh, not good.

“Do remember where you last saw them?”

“We were in the canteen.” She looks away, forehead scrunched in thought. “Daddy was buying me lunch when he got a call. And then he panicked and started to leave but I’m tiny so I couldn’t keep up and I lost him.” She shrugs like she’s indifferent but you see the disappointment in her eyes.

“Aw, he left you behind? How sad.”

“You mean how irresponsible.” She softly smacks her head, exasperated, making you chuckle. “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve gone through this..”

What an absolute grandma.

“Okay, let’s find your parents and scold them for leaving you alone, okay?” She nods at your words determined, pursing her lips. “Do you remember where you were before you went to the canteen?”

“Not very well.” She squints, playing with her fingers, tongue sticking into her cheek in thought. “It was op, no, no, was it ob…?”

“Ophthalmology?”

She shakes her head, unwittingly pouting. “I didn’t see really well, we were just rushing around the whole day today.”

“Alright then,... do you know why you came to the hospital today?”

“My parents said we were getting new family members today, a sibling for me.”

“Oh, Ob-gyn.” You deduce. Of course her father rushed over a phone call, understandable. “Aria, I think I know where your parents are.”

“Really?” Her eyes shine.

“They’re a bit far from here.” You glance up at the boards hanging from the ceiling, understanding the directions. “But if you want I can take you to them.”

You hold out your hand but she hesitates. “You won’t kidnap me, right?”

You laugh. “Of course not, we’re friends. Friends help each other and I want to help you.”

“Okay then.” She nods as you stand up, ignoring the slight pain in your knees, awkwardly still holding your hand out which she didn’t attempt to reach for.

“Uh....Would you like me to carry you?”

“No” She finally holds your hand, her tiny fingers lacing between yours. “I can walk, I’m a big girl.”

“Okay big girl, let’s go then.”

Walking ahead you hold onto her small hand, mind wandering over the tiny details like what if your hand started sweating, what if your rings hurt her, what if the pressure you were exerting was too less? Some children liked to have their hands held tight, for moral support but she didn’t strike to you as the kind who appreciated that.

You give a curious side eyed glance at her and sure enough, she seemed fine, unbothered by the way you were holding her. She simply searched through the crowd, constantly muttering words under her breath you couldn’t quite hear. You wondered what her 75 year old brain was thinking. Normally you wouldn’t be interested in knowing what she was saying. You were the kind who enjoyed the rare silence when kids kept quiet. Being someone who worked in a daycare meant you hear too many kids talking, screaming and wailing on a daily basis. In fact it was enough to make you not want to have children of your own.

That and the fact that having a child required so many things - financial stability, having the time to actually raise a child and not to forget, a source of sperm. Being single for the last 4 years completely eliminated any and all opportunities for that. But seeing kids like her? It instantly appealed to the idea of rushing to a sperm bank and getting yourself one of these little buggers. You can’t help but think of how cute she’d look with a small beanie that went with this outfit and how many different ways you could do her long hair, and all the places you’d walk with her hand in hand. You’d definitely not leave her in the canteen, that’s for sure.

“Aria!”

The both of you turn at the sound to see a man run up to you face flushed, as Aria finally smiles. He’s dressed in a long striped shirt, half tucked in and half out of his jeans, monster size shoes on his feet as he rushed in them towards you, holding his phone against his ear. As he got closer you see what a fine looking man he is, - sharp features, cute wrinkles forming at the corner of his eyes, his very obvious adams apple, soft hair falling into his eyes, long slender fingers pushing them back and-

“It’s Daddy.”

Those two words are enough to metaphorically slap you out of your almost drooling face as the man barely stops before instantly crouching beside his daughter, pulling her in his arms into a hug, balancing the phone between his ear and his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah Jungkook I found her.” He pants, rubbing her arm in relief. “Yeah she’s fine…..What? Where? I don’t know-”

He looks around for a bit before finally turning to you, giving a courteous smile. “Excuse me, do you know where exactly we are right now?”

“Uh yeah the dialysis centre.”

“Dionysus?” He scrunches his nose in the most adorable way. Stop it, Y/n.

Aria takes her father’s face in her tiny hands, turning him towards her. “Di-al-y-sis.” She repeats for you, one syllable at a time.

“Ah, dialysis, the dialysis centre JK….come fast.”

Cutting the call, he took a good look at his daughter, struggling to slip his phone in the back pocket of his jeans. “Oh god I was so scared, where did you go off wandering?”

“You left me! I was-”

“Voice.” The sudden sternness in his otherwise seemingly cheerful personality takes you aback. “We don’t use a loud voice when we talk in public right?”

“I was looking for you everywhere!” Aria harshly whispers, correcting herself. “Why did you walk so fast, you know my legs hurt!”

“Oh my angel.” He pouts sadly at his girl, making her forget her annoyance. “Daddy is really sorry, I forgot you got hurt yesterday. Do you want me to carry you?”

“No, not you” She shakes her head. “I’m a big girl, remember?”

“Ok, alright, Bunny is on his way here, ask him to ok?” He drops a kiss on her forehead. “Now turn around.” before carefully spinning her clockwise, unzipping her bag and pulling out a small white beanie. Cute, that was exactly the kind of beanie you had in mind earlier. He slips it onto her head, muttering softly. “You’re going to get cold at this rate, I keep telling you to wear this-”

“Bunny!”

“-Aria, wait I didn’t zip your bag!”

But to no avail.

His daughter had caught the sight of a certain someone across the corridor, bolting in a split second before her father even had the chance to put the beanie on her properly.

“Don’t run!” The other man picked up his pace towards her the moment his ears caught her voice. “You fell down yesterday right?”

“Yeah, my leg hurts.” She threw her hands up, looking up at him as the man laughed, swiftly lifting her into his arms.

“Aw, it’s fine, bunny is here to the rescue.” He fondly tucks her hair behind her ears, adjusting her beanie, walking ahead.

“Thank you.”

You turn at the voice of the man next to who by now had stood up, dusting his pants, smiling at his daughter in the hands of the other man. You were so lost in just watching all 3 of them, you forgot why your presence here might even matter.

“We were so worried.”

“Oh that’s fine.” You brush it off. “She was a pleasure to meet.”

“Isn’t she?” He laughs, turning to you, extending his hand. “Jung Hoseok.”

“Y/n.” You shake his hand, only just realizing something. He shared the same jet black hair as his daughter but that was about it. Other than that they looked significantly different, nothing like father and daughter. You looked over at the other man trying to piece everything together. Neither did he look anything like Aria. Again, except the black hair. He was tall, leaning more towards the buff side or maybe that was just his biker jacket? You didn’t know but he displayed a sort of rugged charm and not to mention, looked extremely young. Too young to be a father, too old to be a brother. Who was he?

“Jeon Jungkook.” He nods politely at you with a shy smile. “Thank you for helping Aria out Y/n.”

“How do you both know each other Aria?” Hoseok asks his daughter, readjusting her beanie.

“I just asked her name and asked her to help me.” She answers, earning wide eyes from both men.

“You don’t know each other from before?” Hoseok turns to you and you shake your head, confirming it.

“What did we tell you about talking to strangers?” Jungkook tries to whisper but you hear it anyways.

“But I became friends with her first!” She justifies.

Hoseok sighs, “Jin hyung will lose his shit if he finds out about this. Anyway,” He shakes if off. “Aria, did you thank Ms.Y.n?”

“Thank you, Y/n.” She says sweetly, tilting her head at you, making you break out the widest smile.

“You’re welcome, Aria.” You hold your hand up earning a high five from her. “Stay close to daddy next time ok? Or let him carry you like this when you’re in crowded places.”

“She won’t let me.” Hoseok laughs, finally getting around to zipping her bag. “She won’t let anyone but this guy carry her.”

“Bunny is the strongest.” She wraps her arms around Jungkook’s neck, pressing her head against his. “Everyone else turns red five minutes after carrying me. Especially him.” She gives Hoseok a side eye making his squint in annoyance as Jungkook laughs before his face morphs with a sudden realisation.

“Speaking of everyone else, hyung,” Jungkook turns to the older man “I haven’t told them we found her, call them will you?”

“I dropped a text on the group a minute ago.” Hoseok waves the phone in his hand before turning to you, bowing. “We should head back now, Thank you for everything Y/n. I’m sure the rest of us would like to thank you too but we are required to wait where they asked us to, I hope you understand.”

Rest of us?

“Yes, yes of course. I should go too. ” You take a step back, eyes searching for the elevator. “and I understand, don’t worry about it, just hold her hand tight the next time.”

“I shall make sure of that.” Hoseok laughs, nodding. “Which way are you headed?”

You point at the elevator a few feet away. “Second floor, the maternity ward.”

“Oh that’s right past where we are, right Jungkook?” Hoseok turns to Jungkook who nods. Oh god, this wasn’t a goodbye then, how awkward. “We are headed the same way then. I guess you can meet everyone after all.”

Everyone who?

“I guess so,” Normally you would have made an excuse to avoid further interaction but your curiosity gets the better of you. “I’d love to meet...everyone.”

As Jungkook sets off first, Aria giggling in his arms as he plays around with her, Hoseok walks with you right behind the younger man, affectionately watching them.

“The maternity ward?” Hoseok looks at you curiously.

“My friend gave birth yesterday.” You clarify, matching your step with his as all of you stepped into the elevator. “ I came to check up on both of them.”

“That’s sweet.” Jungkook quips before looking away, turning silent again. He was definitely the shy kind.

“Ah, I see. Boy or a girl?”

“A baby girl.” You answer Hoseok, tapping away your foot. Small talk is so uncomfortable.

“How many parents does this baby girl have?” Aria who was silent all this while speaks again. “ Two? One boy and one girl?”

You look at Aria bewildered. You understood ‘one boy and one girl?’ but how many parents? What kind of question was that?

“Uh yeah?”

Why would she ask something like that?

And you found out why the very next moment, when the lift dings open revealing a man, skin as white as the wall behind him, clothes the complete opposite color, a pitch black, just like his hair.

“Ya halmeoni,” He crosses his arms, looking at Aria half laughing. “You don’t just talk like one, you walk like one as well. How did you get lost?”

“Papa” She whines. Papa? “I wasn’t slow, Daddy walked too fast.”

“Yeah yeah catch me.” Hoseok scoffs, stepping out first followed by Jungkook.

“Where was she?”

“Is she okay?”

“Where did you find her?”

“Ya, we were so scared, Jimin ran a whole marathon around the hospital looking for her.”

So many voices. Way too many voices.

“She’s fine. At the dialysis center.”

“You mean the Dionysus center?” You hear Aria sneer and you can’t see what Hoseok does thanks to Jungkook’s huge back blocking your view but whatever it is, it makes her laugh.

“And this is?”

The pale man, looks at you and Jungkook finally realizes he is in your way and moves aside, half bowing apologetically and at last you see who ‘everyone’ was and oh my were they many.

There’s one man before you, two men sprawled out on the couch, one calmly leaning against the wall next to them and another pacing about nervously, occasionally glancing at the door beside him. You do a quick head count. There’s seven of them. Seven men.

“Y/n,” Hoseok introduces sitting down on an empty chair, crossing his legs. “She was the one who helped Aria and guess how Jin hyung.” The man on the sofa opens his shut eyes at the mention of his name. “She went up to her, asked her name, decided she wasn’t a stranger anymore and then asked her to help.”

Jin let out the largest sigh you’ve ever heard. “I did not think this was what my weeks of training would result in.”

“Dad, she’s my friend.” Aria struggles out of Jungkook’s arms, sliding down and walking up to center, crossing her arms. “Be nice everyone and say thank you”

“Thank you Y/n.” They all obey immediately, seven voices ring across the corridor.

“It’s ok.” Meekly you give a small nod, clearly intimidated by their presence. Anyone would be. They had some sort of aura to them. The kind that made it hard to look at but also hard to look away. They were so different, it made you want to see more and more. Their dressing sense, the way they did their hair, the way they carried themselves, the expressions on their faces as they sat outside a delivery room, the expression on their faces as they looked at you - nothing about them was the same.

Except the black hair. They all had black hair. Oh and they all looked at Aria like she was the light of their lives. What kind of relationship did she share with them? You heard her address 3 different people as her father already. What about the rest of them? The craziest thought went through your head but no way. They couldn’t all be….

“Let me clear the confusion, this is not new to us.” The man who was pacing around stops his tracks before you, chuckling. “Yes all of us are her fathers and no, we are not gay.” He looks around the room. “All of us just raise her together.”

“Oh.” You blink, absolutely stumped. No wonder she asked how many parents? This young girl had seven. “That’s….uh wow, that’s really unexpected.”

“We get that a lot.” He nods, holding out his hand, dimples denting his cheeks as he smiled. “Kim Namjoon.”

“Y/n.”

“Pleasure.” This is where Aria got her eloquence from. “Thank you for helping out our daughter. We’ve all been taking turns running around finding her for the last 15 minutes.”

“Thank god she’s here and fine.” Who spoke? The man leaning against the wall? “I don’t have the energy to run after her again.”

“You didn’t even run after her once.” Jin argues.

“I’m still tired.” He sighs, sinking further into the wall. “How many days have we been here for? Does making babies always take this long?”

“The timing for making babies is subjective if you ask me.”

Hoseok smacks the knee of the man near him. “Shut up Park Jimin.”

“Four hours.” Jin shakes his head in response. “We’ve been here for four hours and don’t make it sound like that Taehyung-ah. It's a human coming out from another human, not instant rice you put in a microwave. Of course it’s going to take long.”

“I know but this wait,” Taehyung groans, looking almost dead on the inside. “It's exhausting.”

“Imagine how it must be for her.” Hoseok interjects looking towards the room. “You can’t handle 4 hours, she’s been dealing with this for nine months.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” Sighing Taehyung shut his eyes. “I haven’t eaten anything since last night, I’ve been seeing stars all day.”

“Sit down hyung.” Jungkook walks over grabbing Taehyung by the arm, dragging him like he was nothing. Strongest amongst them all indeed. “Jimin hyung, scoot to the right please.” And then he plops the Taehyung right in between Jin and Jimin, was it?

“Why don’t you just eat something hyung?” Jungkook looks over at him pitifully.

“Taetae is doing his detox week for his blog,” Aria eagerly answers. “He only drinks juice for seven days.”

“Right you are sweetie.” Taehyung shoots Aria a tired smile. “Your bunny asks me the same thing every month and I tell him the same thing every month as well.”

“A two year old remembers things better than you JK.” Hoseok laughs.

“For the last time.” Jimin shakes his head. “She’s five, she was two when we had her, she’s five now.”

“Wow, she’s growing up so fast.” Hoseok realizes softly. “Has it really been three years?”

“Feels like it's been 80 years.” You flinch ever so slightly finding the pale man walking past you to Aria, pulling her cheeks. “This tiny thing behaves like she’s 95 after all.”

“Don’t pull her cheeks Yoongi.” Jin warns him, peaking with one eye open, trying not to laugh. “Halmeoni’s teeth might drop.”

Aria shakes her head glancing over at the door everyone was waiting before, talking to it. “I feel bad for you, whoever is in there, you are about to be part of one crazy, bullying family.”

As six of her fathers erupt in fierce arguments, Yoongi updates you. “We are adopting again.” He softly pats the head of his daughter who was playfully squabbling with the other men. “We felt like she needs company growing up so in there,” He points with the jerk of his head. “That’s the new installment coming into this, as Aria said, crazy family.”

You let out a small wow amazed. You didn’t know about crazy but from whatever little you had seen there was undoubtedly a lot of love. Not just for their daughter but between the seven men as well. The fact that they were willing to all raise not one child but two together? That baby in there was a lucky one.

“But remember what I said?” Taehyung leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Your teeth will start falling cause you’re becoming a big girl, you’re six years old already-”

“Five.”

“-but that’s nothing to be scared of right? When teeth fall remember who I said comes to visit?”

“The tooth fairy.” Jimin answers instead.

“The tooth fairy?” Aria crosses her arms. “Will she be the same skinny Santa who came last year?” She back at Yoongi who avoids her eyes very consciously.

“He had one job.” Taehyung mutters. “I have no idea why he didn’t wear the fake belly, I should have just done it myself like always.”

“He was on a diet plan because of Mrs. Santa.” Yoongi sneers, clearly defending himself.

“More like he was malnourished.” She shoots back.

Yoongi incredulously looked at Jimin . “Why the f-frick does she even know that word, she’s barely 2!”

“She’s 5! And don’t look at me ask him,” He points at Namjooon. “He’s the one who teaches her all these gigantic words. The other day she said I was too meticulous. I myself don’t know what that means.”

“Its your fault,” Namjoon defends himself, looking at Yoongi. “She gets this habit of talking back from you a d like you weren’t enough, now we have two savages in the house.”

“That’s true,” Hoseok shakes his head. “She’s been serving some serious burns these days.”

“She’s practically an arsonist.” Namjoon added.

“Stop using such big words in front of her!” Yoongi explodes causing everyone to burst out laughing.

Aria shakes her head, talking not so softly to herself. “The kind of thins I have to deal with in this house.” You snicker to yourself, hearing her. “I don’t know why they named me Ariel, this is clearly a Snow White and the seven dwarfs situation.”

“Say what?” Jimin who also seems to have heard it, narrows his eyes at Aria from all the way across her.

“I was just saying how much I love Snow White.” She shrugs simply.

“But you hate Snow White.”

“Yeah I do,” She confesses, unable to keep the act. “She did practically nothing but clean some random people’s house and sleep in a glass coffin.”

“Better than Arora right?” Namjoon scoffs. “The woman spent the whole movie sleeping.”

Aria waves her hand dramatically. “Don’t even get me started about her.”

Hoseok sighs. “You’ve ruined fairy tales for her Namjoon-ah.”

“And me.” Taehyung raises his hand. “I can’t go through one movie with her without having to hear about how we need stronger heroines who stand up for themselves-.”

“Tae, I swear she comes up with all this stuff herself-”

“-all she wants to watch is Frozen and Tangled and Brave and all that 21st century abomination, she has no respect for the classics.”

“Abomination is not a word sweetie.” Yoongi explains to Aria, extremely serious. “Don’t go around using it, you’re just 2 years old.”

“FIVE.” Jimin rolls his eyes.

“You can watch Beauty and the Beast with her Tae,” Jin plays the middle man. “Strong female lead and it’s a classic, there, problem solved.” He does a sweep with his hand before dropping it back onto his thighs. “Though I must say, I’m very disappointed that Belle owns nothing pink.”

“She has one pink outfit.” Aria quips, lifting a finger. “That she wears in the snow and plays with the beast.”

“And the birds.” Taehyung supports her turning to a surprised Jin. “We’ve seen this movie exactly 514 times till date, what do you expect?”

“514?” Yoongi sounds shocked. “ You let her watch the television for so long? What’s going to happen to her eyes?? 514 means watching that movie everyday for all the 2 years she’s been alive so far-”

“Oh my god.” Jimin shakes his head. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Alright, enough you guys.” Hoseok looks around at them. “Let’s respect the place, shall we? We can do all this at home where no one will stop-”

Taehyung’s stomach interrupts with the loudest rumble, making everyone turn to him slowly.

“Okay that’s it, you really need food.” Yoongi steps up. “Anyone want anything else? I should make a trip to the canteen.”

“Don’t take me along please.” Aria steps back, shooting Hoseok a traumatized look. “I don’t want to get lost again.”

“You don’t have a choice.” Yoongi picks her up with one hand around her small waist earning an eruption of voices asking him to be careful, trying to stop him, Jungkook almost walking up to him, annoyed. And then there’s the creak of the door and everyone shuts up in an instant, pin drop silence filling the corridor.

A lady in her scrubs steps out, pulling her face mask down to her chin with a smile.

“Congratulations,” You can hear the men around you very audibly gulp. “You’ve just had healthy twins.”

#bts ot7 #bts as dads #bts fluff #bts drabbles #bts #dad kim namjoon #dad kim seokjin #dad min yoongi #dad jung hoseok #dad park jimin #dad kim taehyung #dad jeon jungkook #just for fun #im really soft for the idea of bts as dads #Ill just throw in a drabble as and when Im in the mood #cottage of the seven dads

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spicycreativity · 3 years ago

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Soft-Shoe Shuffle - Ch 5

Chapter: 5/12 Additional Notes: See Ch 1 for more information. Read on AO3 under "WizardGlick." Any formatting/italics errors are holdovers from AO3 that I was too lazy to fix. Chapter Content Warnings: N/A; ask to tag Excerpt: Janus slid a few inches down in the chair, feeling as wrung-out as he did when he used to stay up all night braiding and weaving his influence into Thomas’ thought patterns. “I certainly won’t hold this over your head. Figuratively.” He slid down a few more inches. “If you want to avoid falling out of the chair, I suggest you put the footrest out,” Logan said. “The handle is on the left side.” “Yes, because I’ve never sat in a recliner before,” Janus muttered, balancing his weight on his heels so he didn’t slide out of the chair. Note: The cake is a lie metaphor

It's my job to be cleaning up this mess And that's enough reason to go for me It's my job to be better than the rest And that makes a day for me

Janus awoke to the sensation of something poking the underside of his wrist and a deep conviction that it was going to be one of those days. Mild pain in his wrist aside (what was that?), a sticky sense of malaise clung to his skin like saltwater and pressed into him harder than his blankets ever could.

Janus opened his eyes. Remus had evidently tucked him in, because he was under his blankets with his arms crossed over his chest like a corpse. He was still wearing the onesie and his gloves, and his hat rested on the nightstand beside him. Janus examined his right wrist and found that Remus had slipped a folded piece of paper into his glove, the corner of which was poking Janus in the wrist.

Adjusting his pillows as he went, Janus sat up and pulled the paper out of the glove.

There once was a Snake with a fast wit

Who fell for a Side with dad habits

Poor Janus was sprung

And hoped Patton was hung

So they could make love like two rabbits

"I'm going to kill him," Janus said evenly. He kept his wits about him when disposing of this new poem, merely flicking his wrist and sending it up like flash paper. It disappeared in one satisfying flare of white.

Janus nodded once and hauled himself out of bed. He didn't like that he'd fallen asleep in the common room not once, but twice now. It wasn't his style. He was the puppetmaster, the Lord of the Lies, the doorkeeper who dressed like an 1870s oil baron and took his coffee black like his soul. He didn't fall asleep on the couch.

At least it had been Remus to take him to bed. Janus wasn't sure what he'd do if he woke up in Patton's arms.

It didn't matter. Janus could rehabilitate his reputation today while he lounged around until he felt better. First of all, he had to get this accursed parrot onesie off.

As much as it pained him, he changed right back into his usual outfit. The stiff starched cotton was never the most comfortable even on the best of days, but today it chafed irritably against his skin.

He would have preferred a nice set of fleece-lined pajamas, but his fragile pride simply wouldn't let him go out like that. Not when he had already displayed such weakness in front of the others.

He slunk out of his bedroom and down the hallway in stocking feet, walking toe-heel to muffle the sound of his footsteps.

Logan gave him a curt nod from the couch as he passed; Janus tipped his hat in reply.

He passed the dining room table and rounded the corner into the kitchen. He had been aiming for the coffee pot, but stopped short at the sight of Patton seated on the floor with his legs pulled up to his chest and his forehead resting on his knees. It was the same position he had been in the night Janus found him in front of his door, and it made Janus go hot with worry.

Janus stared. Patton's shoulders rose and fell with his breathing, slow and even. He wasn't crying, then. Janus coughed into his fist.

Patton looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "Oh, hey, Janus," he said like it was the most normal thing in the world for him to curl up on the kitchen floor on the verge of tears.

"Good morning," Janus said, going for the coffee maker for the sake of having something to do with his hands. "Please try to convince me you aren't upset about anything."

"It's nothing," Patton said.

Janus was more than content to leave it at that, since he didn't care about Patton's feelings. He poured ground coffee into the filter and shoved it into place with a little more force than was strictly necessary. His eyes fell on Patton when he turned to fill the coffee pot at the sink. Patton, with his shining eyes and quivering lip.

Fuck.

Janus poured the water from the coffee pot into the reservoir, slid the coffee pot into place, gently pressed the button. He stared at the coffee maker until the first drops fell into the coffee pot, tugging at the fingertips of his gloves. It would be so easy to just turn around and go back to the living room. He could even drop a hint and send Logan in. So why couldn't Janus move?

Oh, he knew why.

He set his jaw and turned around, staring down at Patton. "I'm great at consoling people," he said in a voice that came out wrong, all accusatory and angry.

"You don't have to," Patton said, not meeting his gaze. "It's not your job."

"No, I-- That's not what--" Excellent. Janus just loved getting tongue-tied like some flustered adolescent would-be Romeo. Good thing he wasn't defined by his silver tongue. "Feel free to jump in here."

"I don't want to tell you," Patton said in a low voice. "I don't want to make it your problem."

"Like I won't get it out of you one way or another." Janus sat down and crossed his legs, the better to look Patton in the eye without looming over him. Behind him, the coffee maker hissed and gurgled.

"I miss Roman and Virgil, that's all. I'm worried about them."

"I'm sorry I asked."

It was meant to be a joke, but Patton only looked more anguished. "I'm sorry! It's not your job to-- I don't want to make you feel like I blame you for what happened…"

Janus braced himself. "But…?"

"But nothing," Patton said. "I'm sorry; I know I'm being silly."

Ugh. Janus remembered the stab of guilt that had struck him when he'd realized that he might have hurt Remus. How panicked he felt at the idea that Remus might be angry with him. The fear in knowing that Remus' anger would be justified. A nauseating wave of empathy hit Janus with the force of a speeding semi-truck striking a pixelated frog. "Patton, you don't blame yourself do you?"

"I don't know." Patton's voice nearly cracked. He swallowed hard and looked, beseeching, at Janus. "I'm the one who… You know." He waved a hand, presumably to indicate 'morphed into a giant frog-man and tried to kill Thomas and his friends.'

Janus stood at a crossroads. Telling Patton it wasn't his fault would be tantamount to admitting his own guilt.

And hadn't he pushed Patton to the breaking point? Hadn't he aligned the pieces on the chess board? Hadn't he-- His head spun and his stomach dropped. Hadn't he puppeted Roman on his makeshift stage and cast him aside when he was no longer needed? Hadn't he?

But then again. Hadn't it been worth it? Janus would take all the turmoil of the past few days a thousand times over if it meant Thomas would listen to him . Janus had done what he'd had to do, and it had been a net gain for him.

Janus stood at a crossroads, and he walked straight between them, kicking up dust and rocks beneath his feet.

"It was an accident," he said to Patton. "Sometimes, things just happen and it's nobody's fault."

"I guess," Patton said, though he didn't look all that convinced. "You're probably right. You're usually right. You're really smart, Janus."

Janus waited for the other shoe to drop: some insult about his character or choices, but nothing came. Patton tilted his head. "Thank you," Janus choked.

He stood and wheeled around to face the coffee maker but nearly lost his balance and had to clutch the countertop for support. He would keep it to one cup of coffee today and spend the rest of the day hydrating and, more importantly, not having hard emotional conversations with people who made him want to re-examine his entire moral compass.

Not that Patton made him-- Oh, who was Janus kidding? Janus would walk one thousand miles through the desert on his knees if Patton asked him to.

So long as he could complain about it the whole time.

"I'm waffle-y sorry for being such a downer," Patton said. "Want me to make you breakfast?"

Janus stared at the drip-drip of the coffee as it fell into the pot. "Why do you do that?"

"Why do I do what?"

"Cook. It seems like a lot of work when you could just…" Janus snapped his fingers.

Patton either chose not to point out Janus' hypocrisy in brewing coffee or, more likely, didn't think to mention it. "Well, honestly, I like the work," he said. "It feels personal and… Well, it feels like love ."

Janus swallowed hard. "Oh," was all he could think to say. He stared at his warped reflection in the half-filled coffee pot.

"So," Patton said. "Can I make you breakfast?"

Janus lurched forward, putting more of his weight into his hands where they connected with the edge of the counter, and let his head hang. What was wrong with him? Words circled his head in a whirlwind and evaded all his attempts to string them together into complete thoughts.

“Janus?” Patton prompted. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine ,” Janus snapped, acting on pure instinct. He turned around and forced himself to look Patton in the eye. “Sorry.” The word felt foreign and uncomfortable in his dry mouth. “Yes, Patton. I would appreciate it very much if you made me breakfast.”

Patton took this behavioral change in stride, perhaps even with a knowing look in his eye. Janus realized with a creeping sense of unease that Virgil had probably been equally skittish when he’d made the move from Dark to Light. But Patton didn’t comment on Janus' disgusting predictability. He only smiled and said, “Great! Do you like blueberry pancakes?”

Janus didn’t, not really, nor was he particularly hungry. Janus said, “Yes” and forced himself to smile.

“Perfect." Patton half-turned away before turning back to Janus. “Oh, yeah! Logan said he had something he wanted to ask you.”

Janus manifested a coffee mug onto the counter (the same black and yellow ouroboros one that Patton had visualized for him) and reached for the coffee pot. “Trying to get rid of me?”

“No!” Patton yelped. “I’d actually really like it if you stayed in here with me. Not that I can’t be alone with my thoughts! Because I can and I’m fine. But you’re still kind of an unknown and that scares me and I’d like to get to know you better-- Oh, gosh, um, not that you scare me! I don’t think you’re scary. Unless you want me to think you’re scary? I know Virgil kind of had a whole complex about that. N-not that I think you and Virgil are necessarily anything alike!”

Someday, Janus was going to let Patton keep going just to see how deep he would dig himself. But today was not that day. Today, Janus wanted to sit down and take care of this exhaustion before it turned into something worse. “Patton, relax.”

“I’m relaxed!” Patton said, his shoulders hiked up nearly to his ears.

“I was just teasing you.”

“I knew that.” Patton flushed and pushed his glasses up. “Forget I said anything, okay?”

“Already forgotten.” Janus smiled, actually smiled to reassure Patton that he wasn’t angry. Because he didn’t want Patton to be scared of him. Pain bored into the back of Janus’ skull like a railroad spike propelled by dynamite. Two aspirin jumped into his hand before he even realized he had summoned then. He swallowed them with a mouthful of piping hot coffee and only just managed not to cough.

“You okay?” Patton asked.

A thousand sarcastic misdirections died on Janus’ lips. “Just a headache.”

Patton nodded.

For a moment, they stared at each other with eyes locked. It was Janus who turned away, covering his face under the pretense of swiping his hair out of his eyes. “I’d better go see what Logan wants.”

He fled the warmth and earnestness of Patton’s presence and the trenchant blade of his own desire. When he reached the living room, he forced himself to calm down and took a seat in one of the recliners that stood perpendicular to the couch so he could face Logan. “You had a question for me?”

Logan vanished the book he was reading before Janus could get a good look at the cover. Damn, that could have provided useful insight into Logan's interests. “More of a request for information, to be perfectly clear," Logan said. "I’m interested in Remus.”

“Well,” Janus said, seizing the opportunity for a bit of fun, “I’m not so sure he feels the same way about you, but I suppose I could make an inquiry.”

Logan kept his face blank but Janus could tell from the way his irises twitched and his cheeks darkened that he had understood the joke and was choosing not to acknowledge it. “I’m sorry; I should have been more clear. What I meant is that I am interested to know more about Remus as an individual. A ‘person,’ if you will.”

“I will.” Logan raised an eyebrow and drew the corners of his mouth down in an expression of tense irritation. “You don’t like being teased,” Janus said out loud.

“I don’t find it conducive to productive conversation, no.”

“Well, far be it from me to want to impede scientific advancement.” Janus touched his fingertips to his chest. “Did you have any specific questions about Remus?”

“Yes.” Logan leaned in, a new spark in his eyes. “I was curious about his behavior last night. He was only interested in staying when he felt that he wasn’t wanted-- When he was considered ‘intrusive.”

“Yes.”

“Is that behavior inherent or learned?”

Janus thought for a moment. Logan didn’t like sarcasm. He didn’t want to be teased. So Janus steeled himself and told the truth. “I don’t think it’s my place to tell you.”

Logan nodded, head bowed in disappointment. “I had feared you might say that. In that case, Janus, I have a favor to ask of you.”

Janus tried not to wince. He was tired. He really wasn’t in the mood to navigate the potential minefield of Remus as a topic of conversation. On the other hand, he could use all the favor he could get for the inevitable moment that Roman and Virgil emerged and protested his newfound position in the Light. Logan could be a strong ally in that conflict. “Oh? Let’s hear it.” He settled back in his chair and stared at Logan over the top of his coffee mug. At least the headache had receded a little, now only flaring up when he turned his head too fast.

“I am more than happy to speak to Remus directly. In fact, I would prefer it. However, last night demonstrated that Remus is unwilling to engage in social situations where his presence is desired. His rapport with you suggested that this may not always be the case. So I drew the tentative conclusion that you may be able to act as liaison between Remus and me until he feels comfortable conversing with me directly, assuming that time does come. If he really doesn’t want to talk to me, I won’t force the matter.”

Janus took what Logan had said and distilled it to its core: “You want me to arrange a meeting between you and Remus.”

“Yes. Please.”

“Anytime soon?”

“Logically speaking, there’s no hurry,” Logan said, his face neutral. Too neutral.

Janus considered this. “You’re excited,” he said, a smile growing on his face. Ugh, he was excited that Logan was excited. Since when did he care about Logan’s personal growth?

Logan swallowed hard, the line of his jaw sharp and tense. “...Yes,” he said finally. “I am excited. And I don’t wish to impose, but I would prefer you spoke to him sooner rather than later.”

Really, what Janus said next was selfish. “I’ll talk to him today.” It was selfish because it was for his own benefit. Really. If he was responsive to Logan’s desires then Logan would view him in a more favorable light and be more likely to defend him against Roman and Virgil when the time came. That was all. Janus didn’t care about the happiness of pawns and puppets.

Yet still his chest filled with inexplicable warmth and light when Logan smiled (yes, smiled) and said, “Thank you, Janus.”

Janus slid a few inches down in the chair, feeling as wrung-out as he did when he used to stay up all night braiding and weaving his influence into Thomas’ thought patterns. “I certainly won’t hold this over your head. Figuratively.” He slid down a few more inches.

“If you want to avoid falling out of the chair, I suggest you put the footrest out,” Logan said. “The handle is on the left side.”

“Yes, because I’ve never sat in a recliner before,” Janus muttered, balancing his weight on his heels so he didn’t slide out of the chair.

Logan stared at him, eyes calculating. “You may do yourself harm if you hold that position for very long. Ergonomically speaking, the best position for optimal back health is reclining.”

“If you’re going to insist…” Janus scooted back up and pulled the handle, holding up his coffee so it didn’t spill as the chair shifted.

Logan tilted his head. “I wasn’t insisting. I gave you information so you could make an informed decision about how you wanted to sit.”

“...Thanks.” Janus took a long drink of coffee, thought for a moment, and manifested a book that he thought might catch Logan’s attention. He made a show of finding his place in it, and sure enough, Logan shifted like he wanted to say something. Janus looked at him over the top of the gilded hardback copy of Thus Spoke Zarathustra; the most audacious thing he could think of in the moment. He had to balance it with one hand, as the other was still holding his coffee mug, and the spine dug painfully into his leg. He looked at Logan and raised his eyebrows in expectation.

Logan shook his head to indicate he had nothing to say. He summoned his own book, the one he had been reading earlier and, with a look of faux innocence that ill-suited him, turned the cover toward Janus just long enough for him to observe that it was an old chemistry textbook before laying it open on his lap.

Janus sniffed and turned the page in Thus Spoke Zarathustra , not at all embarrassed at having been caught out.

Breakfast meant facing Patton again, which meant dizzy butterflies in Janus' stomach. At least Logan was there, and his presence helped mitigate whatever sinister magic powers Patton had that made Janus go all warm and soft and giddy in his presence.

Janus cut his pancakes into smaller and smaller pieces and drank orange juice like his life depended on it while Patton and Logan revisited an old argument about whether Thomas should adopt a puppy (or several).

They left Janus out of it, which he appreciated for once. Today, he was more than happy to half-listen and dismember his pancakes. It was easier to eat when Patton wasn’t paying attention to him, anyway; the nervous nausea receded like the tide in the absence of the moon of Patton’s focus.

When Janus had downed his fourth glass of orange juice and realized he was bored, he forced himself to tune into Patton and Logan’s argument so he could find a place to strike and excuse himself. There were other, more aggressive ways to command attention, but he wasn’t in the mood to raise his voice or ‘accidentally’ drop his fork, so he waited with his hands folded in his lap.

And waited.

Finally, he abandoned propriety and interrupted. “Do you plan to finish anytime soon or do you intend to hold me hostage here all morning?”

“Oh, sorry, champ.” Patton turned to him, eyes wide and beseeching. “We usually all just talk over each other.”

"Oh, please do call me that again."

"You don't like it?"

"No, I love it. Can't you tell?"

"Sorry, Janus." Patton smiled. "Don't worry, though! I'll find a nickname you like."

"Anything's better than 'reptilian rapscallion,' I guess," Janus muttered. "Anyway. I have business to attend to."

"Okay!" Patton said cheerily. "But one of these days it's gonna be your turn to wash the dishes!"

Janus tipped his hat and sank out. They could have that argument another day.

He found Remus in the living room making a Jenga tower out of chicken bones.

"Business or pleasure?" Janus asked, trying not to sway into the coffee table. It was hard to tell with Remus.

"You drunk?" Remus asked, placing another chicken bone on the tower.

"Hammered," Janus said. He perched himself gingerly on the arm of the couch, though what he really wanted was to collapse with his head in Remus' lap. In any case, a little flattery was in order. "I got your limerick."

"And?"

"It was horrifying, thank you. I burned it."

Remus nodded his approval. "So did you miss me or what?"

"I need a favor."

"From me?" Remus puffed out his cheeks. "Who pissed you off? I haven't heard Roman's dulcet declarations from yonder curtain yet."

"I thought we'd moved past Shakespearean sonnets."

"Sorry, Snakespeare." Remus shrugged. "Some habits are hard to break."

"Mmph." Janus rested his elbow on his knee and his forehead in his palm. He just had to finish up here and then he could have the rest of the day off.

"Sooo who do I need to threaten and/or maim?" Remus asked.

Janus squeezed his eyes shut. "Actually, there's no violence involved. It's a real favor, Remus."

"Well, now you have my attention." Remus shifted on the couch, the beads of his shirt rattling. "Are you dying? You have to tell me if you're dying. And let me watch. And dissect your body. And use your skull as a goblet. Ooh, and--"

"I'm tired." Janus lifted his head and came nose-to-nose with Remus, who was peering at him with his eyes opened as wide as they could go. "And I need you to talk to Logan."

"Oh, yeah? Ol' Tight Ass getting on your nerves? Need me to scare him a little?"

Janus pressed his forehead into Remus'. "No."

"Ooh, you're warm."

Janus tugged at his collar. "It's not like I'm wearing layers or anything."

"So why do I have to hang out with All Time Lo?"

Janus usually cloaked his dealings with Remus in a few layers of reverse psychology and the occasional double entendre for good measure. Today, he just said, "Please."

Remus frowned and drew back. "You're sure you're not dying? Pope John Patton III isn't slowly poisoning you, is he?"

"He doesn't have the guts," Janus said. Remus' eyes lit up so he quickly added, "And I don't want to see yours."

"Aww."

"And if you really want to know… Logan wants to talk to you. As a person."

"And what does this have to do with you?"

Janus sighed and finally gave into his desire to flop over onto the couch. He ended up splayed over Remus' lap with his limbs twisted at uncomfortable angles, but couldn't be bothered to right himself. "Logan asked me to ask you because he rightfully guessed that you wouldn't respond to a direct invitation because you have a complex about showing up where you're not wanted unless I'm involved."

"And you said yes because …?"

"You're right, it's not like me at all to want to have something over someone else." No use showing his whole hand unless he absolutely had to.

"Do you like it over there?' Remus asked. "Is it better than…" He waved his hands.

If Janus owed any side honesty, it was Remus. So he sighed and made an effort to speak plainly; no filibusters about the subjective nature of 'better' and 'worse,' no cryptic half-answers. "I want it for you, Remus. It's tense and it's uncomfortable, but this half-acceptance feels more like home than you could ever conceive of from the shadows. It is better. But it won't be enough until you're there, too."

"Jesus, Janus." Remus fake-gagged a few times. "They're turning you into one softboiled snake." But he shifted and gently arranged Janus' head in his lap, placing Janus' hat on his own head. He ran his fingers through Janus' hair and smoothed his bangs out of his face. Like Janus, Remus preferred to disguise his intentions, usually with irony and shock value. They understood each other in that regard. But now, Remus spoke in calmer tones, and lowered his voice. "Hey, Janus?"

"Yes?"

"If you really do have a thing for Patton--"

"I don't--"

"If you did. I really do hope it works out for you. And I know… There's a change involved with crossing over--"

"I won't--"

Remus placed his hand over Janus' mouth. "I just hope it works out for you, that's all. And I'll talk to Logan. Since you asked."

Janus knew better than to lick Remus' hand. Instead, he kissed it.

"Ew!" Remus yanked his hand back and made a show of wiping it off on his pants. "Save your love and affection for the Guilt Trip Tour Guide." He grabbed Janus by the shoulders and sat him up, placing his hat back on his head. "Now where's Logan?"

"You're doing it now?" Janus coated his disappointment in a veneer of skepticism; he could have easily fallen asleep in Remus' lap if Remus had held still for a few minutes longer.

"Might as well rip the Band-Aid off," Remus said. "And a few layers of skin, too. Did you know that your top layer of skin is called the horny layer?"

"Charming," Janus said.

"I aim to please," Remus said. He stood and did a little shimmy.

"Guaranteed to satisfy," Janus agreed.

Remus sank out, leaving Janus alone on the couch. He forced himself to get up before he fell asleep, and walked over to the curtain to listen for a few seconds. There was no sound of screaming, no sound of Remus cackling in fiendish delight, so Janus had to assume that everything was going smoothly.

He sank out and chose to manifest back in the Light Sides' living room. Now he could relax, because he certainly wasn't worried about how Remus' interaction with Logan would go.

"Hi, Janus!" Patton said, springing up from the floor.

If Janus had been startled by this, he would have jumped and gasped, but since he wasn't, he remained still. His heart rattled against his ribcage until he could feel it in his stomach. He took in a breath so deep it made his lungs ache and sat down on the couch. "Patton."

"What are you up to?"

"...Training for the Olympic canoe slalom."

Patton blinked. "So you have time to talk?"

"I suppose…" Janus said, trying to telegraph his irritation without making Patton think that Janus was mad at him. It was a delicate operation, and Janus must have erred too far on the side of caution, because Patton's smile never faltered for a moment. "Great."

He sat down next to Janus, and the inches between their bodies pierced Janus' heart like a deadly insult. But he knew better than anyone that it took more than desire to breach a gap. "I hope I'm not in trouble."

"Of course not!" Patton said. "I'm not-- I mean, I don't think I-- Oh. You're teasing."

"Good of you to notice."

"Um, anyway. I wanted to, um… I wanted…"

"Take your time. I've got all day." Though he played it off as such, the yawn that Janus stifled behind his hand wasn't fake.

"I want to talk about philosophy with you!" Patton said all in one breath.

"Oh," Janus said. He studied the back of one gloved hand. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"We can start small."

"I take it you had something in mind?"

Patton nodded vigorously. "Ends and means."

Janus swallowed. "Well," he said, feeling for all the world like he had just walked into a trap. "By all means, start us off."

"Um," said Patton. "Well. Um." He cleared his throat. "Ah."

"Fascinating. Go on?"

"I'm trying to think of an example that doesn't involve," Patton dropped his voice to a whisper, "murder."

"That's probably a good idea."

"Okay, I don't know, let's say I had this really awesome recipe for strawberry shortcake. And, uh, Logan was trying to make one from scratch for Ro-- For your birthday."

"Mmhm." Janus raised the corners of his lips in what was supposed to be an encouraging smile while he feverishly tried to figure out where Patton was going with this. Preferably before Patton got there, so he could steer the conversation as needed.

"And say Logan was making a real mess of it, and I knew you would be disappointed to receive a not-so-good cake for your birthday. So I go into the kitchen and try to nicely hint that Logan should use my recipe, but he's not having it. Now, I really want you to have a nice birthday cake, so I finally snap and tell Logan that he's no good at baking and he needs to listen to me. And he gets upset and doesn't come to your birthday party, but I make you an awesome strawberry shortcake and you really enjoy it. And all the guests have a wonderful time, even though a few of them really miss Logan and wish he was there."

"Ah, yes," said Janus. "Rousseau's famous strawberry shortcake thought experiment." He rubbed his thumb across his temple a few times. The sooner he helped Patton get to his point, the sooner he could finally relax. "What's the question?"

"Since everybody at the party was happy, including you, the birthday boy, did the ends justify the means?"

Janus squinted, but Patton's face was the very picture of innocence. "It's Logan's fault," he said slowly, "for letting his emotions cloud the bigger picture. If he had just listened to you in the first place , no one would be upset."

"So the ends justified the means because the result was good?"

"Sure. You knew that your plan was the better one."

"So you could say that I was entitled to behave in a way that hurt Logan? Because I knew better than he did?"

"That's what I said," Janus snapped. He took a deep breath through his nose. Patton was behaving with picture-perfect decorum, so Janus had no need to lash out like a cornered animal. "I'm saying Logan shouldn't be hurt. He should think for 3 seconds and realize that he was standing in the way of the greater good."

"But he is hurt," Patton said. "I hurt him. There's no 'should' about it."

"What do you think, then?"

"Obviously I think I should apologize to Logan!" Patton said. "I had no right to hurt him like that."

"So you don't think there's any end result that would have justified those means."

"That's right," Patton said, nodding so hard that his glasses slid to the tip of his nose. "Being mean is a bad means. And maybe someone smarter than me has already said it in better words, but I don't think anyone has the right to hurt another person, no matter what the end goal is. Um, e-especially over something as small as cake."

Janus' first choice of response to this was a new thought experiment involving murder. But that felt a little mean-spirited, even for him and oh, the ends of winning a debate against Patton wouldn't have justified the means of playing dirty to do so. Janus buried his face in his hands. "What if you didn't care about Logan?" he murmured into his gloved palms. Pain pulsed through his head.

"What?" Patton said.

Janus moved his hands so only his mouth was uncovered. "What if you didn't care about Logan? What if you thought he was a pompous ass whose only relevance to you was as an obstacle between you and making a really awesome cake ?"

"My answer hasn't changed," Patton said. "And it's not going to."

"What if you explained yourself and Logan humiliated you in front of everyone ?" Janus used his fingertips to apply pressure to his browbone, but the pain only increased.

"His wrong wouldn't negate my wrong," Patton said gently. He rested his hand on Janus' knee.

Fireworks exploded behind Janus' eyelids. Why did it have to be Patton ? And why did Patton have to be right? He'd even gone to the trouble of presenting his point in Janus' preferred terms, even if his debate skills left something to be desired. "You can go ahead and give me the lecture if you want," Janus mumbled. Shame burned bright and hot inside him and flames danced along the seams of his clothing, pinpricks of irritation on his skin.

"Janus, look at me." Patton's thumb rubbed small circles on Janus' knee.

Janus dropped his hands. The light flashed into his eyes and made him flinch. "Go ahead."

"I don't want to lecture you," Patton said. "I mean, a part of me does. But I realize now that I can't just do that. The only authority I have over you is the authority you want to give me, and I have a feeling that's not much."

Janus scoffed. "You'd be surprised." He looked at Patton's hand and clenched his own into two fists. "I'll… I'll think about apologizing to Roman. I'm getting good at it, these days."

Patton jerked his head up and something seemed to click for him, an unasked question answered. "You apologized to Logan."

Janus nodded, but no happiness touched his heart at the look of approval in Patton's eyes. He just felt shaky and sick and very, very tired. "I didn't mean to, but…"

"You realized you'd hurt him?"

"It helps that he didn't mock me to my face." A particularly intense wave of pain flashed from the base of Janus' skull to his temples and he winced. On impulse, he dug his fingers into the side of his head just beneath the brim of his hat. It didn't help.

"Does your head still hurt?" Patton asked.

Janus nodded. No sense lying now, not about something as petty as this, and especially not now that Patton had a floodlight on him. If Janus was playing 4D chess, he was doing so on the 20 yard line of Patton's football field and he kept. getting. tackled. "It's getting worse."

"Do you usually get headaches like this?"

"No."

"Well," Patton patted Janus' knee and withdrew his hand. "It's been a stressful few days."

Janus blinked, staring at the spot where Patton's hand had been. His thoughts came slow and syrupy.

"Patton?"

"Yeah?"

Janus struggled to keep his eyes open. The gentle honey-toned lights of the living room might as well have been high wattage LEDs beamed straight into his retinas. He blinked away tears. "I'm sorry." Patton gave him a sad smile. Janus continued, brushing away a tear that clung stubbornly to his upper lashes. "I pushed you to your breaking point on purpose. I used you. I-- I tried to push you down for the sake of pulling myself up." Pain flashed through his head and he squeezed his eyes shut against it. "I don't even know if I'm doing this right," he admitted. "I'm sorry I hurt you, but… Hurting you got me what I wanted."

"Hey, kid-- Janus, I think you'd better call it a day," Patton said. There was a nervous edge to his voice that Janus didn't have the mental bandwidth to try to decipher. "Try to sleep off that headache, okay? We can talk about this later."

The pain was so all-consuming, so violent in its demands for Janus' full attention that he wasn't even capable of defending his pride. A vague, hollow shame made its home in his chest. He stood, joints protesting, but Patton stopped him before he could sink out.

"You don't have to go."

Janus nodded and sank back down onto the couch, slowly, so Patton had time to stand up and get out of his way. It made sense. It wasn't like Patton was going to stroke his hair and share his warmth just because Janus wanted it.

Even if he asked.

Patton said something that Janus didn't quite make out before he slipped into unawareness.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #moceit #patton sanders #janus sanders #spicywrites #spicywrites soft-shoe shuffle #song featured: it's my job - jimmy buffett

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mirakumiruku · 4 years ago

Text

In The Contract

A/N: Yaaay more lewd times >:3c No I will not explain myself, I’m just giving y’all your Shiggy food

Shigaraki Tomura x AFAB reader

Contains: dubcon tw, dressing up, abuse of fine print, and Shiggy being a douchebag. WC: 2.5k

You had gone to the League of Villains in an act of desperation. Your pro-hero boyfriend had dumped you for one of his coworkers, kicking you out of his apartment and leaving you jobless. So when you found a housekeeping job with no experience required, and room and board included, you thought you had been given a miracle.

You weren’t so sure about the opportunity when you arrived for the interview, staring up at the old building that you thought would be abandoned, but after double checking you had the right address, you knocked on the back door. You couldn’t help but think this was some kind of organ harvesting scheme, but you didn’t have much to lose at this point.

You did reconsider your choices when the door creaked open, and a hand pulled you inside by the front of your shirt.

“You’re (Y/N), right?” Turquoise eyes bored into yours with the question, and you couldn’t break the contact when you gave a hesitant nod. You knew this face, you’d seen it on TV, accompanied by a warning to contact the police if you saw him. Of course, it was definitely too late for you to run now.

“You’re a lot cuter than I thought you’d be.” Dabi mumbled, letting go of your shirt and taking you by your arm to drag you further into the building. “I’d say it’s time for your interview, but I think you’re gonna get hired no matter what. You’re the only one stupid enough to reply to our ad.” He laughed as he brought you into what could only be described as an office, composed mainly of a worn out table and a wooden chair, which was occupied by yet another terrifying face. Or rather, a terrifying hand.

“About time, I was starting to worry that you wouldn’t show.” Shigaraki glowered at you from between the fingers that covered his face, idly tapping a pen on the desk. “Well, we don’t have too much room to be picky, but I still have some questions to ask you.”

The ‘interview’ went smoothly, Shigaraki asking you various questions about your views on certain politics, your career history, your relationship and opinion on heroes. He seemed a little pleased when you expressed your experience with your ex boyfriend, like he was hoping for any shred of disdain.

“You sound perfect.” He purred, scribbling his signature on the contract that laid on the desk, before flipping it around and sliding it to you along with the pen. “We can’t pay too well, but room and board are provided, as we said in the ad. By the sounds of it, that’s quite important to you right now.”

You gulped and nodded, scanning over the contract, but the fine print proved too hard to read in your fit of nerves. You steeled yourself and signed the contract. After all, there was no way they would just send you on your merry way if you declined, right?

“Excellent.” Shigaraki smirked, taking the contract and tucking it into a folder. “Dabi, can you show them to their room?” His eyes flickered from Dabi back to you, “I’m hoping for you to start as soon as possible, tomorrow morning at the latest. Does that work for you?”

You nodded slowly, worried about the panicked babbling that would escape your lips if you dared open them.

The room Dabi had brought you to was depressing at best. An old mattress sat atop a metal bed frame in one corner, a small dresser and a cracked mirror standing on the other end of the room next to a tiny closet. You looked back at Dabi, still nervous.

“Um… how am I… gonna go get my stuff?”

“I dunno. Where is it?”

“Well, some of it’s at my motel room, but most of it is back at my ex’s house…”

“Motel we can do, house of a pro hero is a hard no.”

You sighed, but knew nothing would come from trying to argue with the villain. “Alright…” Maybe you could text your ex and see if he would drop your things off at the motel, or maybe you’d find it in a charity shop in a month or so.

The night passed without event. Dinner was cup ramen, and you immediately understood why they needed a cook.

The next morning you were brought to Shigaraki’s office again, where he went over your duties. The group had a food budget, it was your job to utilize it and make a list for whoever was to run the errands that week. You also had daily jobs like making lunch and dinner for the group, as well as various cleaning tasks.

From what you had seen, you definitely had your work cut out for you.

You spent the first week working non-stop. Scrubbing the kitchen and bathrooms from top to bottom with the strongest cleaner you could find, mopping up the filthy floors and attacking the scattered mold colonies with bleach. How anyone, criminal or not, could live like this was beyond you.

The first day you had made lunch for everyone, you were showered in praise. It was clear these people hadn’t eaten a proper meal in such a long time, at least not one that didn’t come out of the microwave.

As much as you wanted to resent the group for their actions, you couldn’t help the swell of pride in your chest when you caught Shigaraki’s smile behind his father’s hand.

You couldn’t help the nagging feeling in your gut that something was off, though. Shigaraki had a mischievous, almost devilish glint in his eye that most of the others lacked when his gaze landed upon you. None of the others looked at you that way, not counting Dabi, though you felt like he gave everyone that look.

The next week, a few packages had arrived in the group’s PO box with your name on them. Spinner, that week’s gofer, had brought them up to your room and placed them next to your bed, giving you a grin and a quick bow in thanks to you. You couldn’t help the way you beamed back at him.

Your cheerful mood quickly disappeared, though, when you opened the packages. Inside were piles of fabrics and frills, and as you pulled out the one on top you recognized what it was: a maid dress. It wasn’t too revealing, you wagered that the skirt would reach to just above your knee. But as you dug through the first box that was all it was filled with, one dress for each day of the week, either in black or cheery pastels. The other box had petticoats, tights, a pair of shiny black mary janes, and some surprisingly conservative underwear considering the other items.

As if on cue, you heard the distinctive sound of knuckles on your doorframe.

“Hey.” Came Shigaraki’s low voice, and you could almost feel his eyes boring into your back. “I figured you should have a uniform. It’s cute, right?”

“Cute… cute isn’t the exact word I’d use.” You mumbled, draping one of the dresses over your arm.

“Well, whatever word you would use, it’s your uniform.”

You pouted, but sighed. “Whatever…”

“Good.”

In the morning, you had changed from your pajamas to the black maid dress. It was a hair tight, but otherwise it fit perfectly. You didn’t want to think about how Shigaraki had gotten your measurements. The petticoat was soft against your thighs, and the tights were a silky opaque white. You topped it off with the frilly white apron tied snug around your waist, and the patent leather shoes shined to a perfect finish.

The reactions to your new outfit were mixed. Himiko had hung off you the moment you stepped into the room, gushing about how cute you were, your new dress was so pretty, could she dress you up in her own costumes sometimes? You also elicited a wolf whistle from Dabi, and you couldn’t help but notice Spinner trying to hide his intense blush behind the magazine he was reading.

Shigaraki, meanwhile, was surprisingly silent. You didn’t miss the approving glint in his eye when you passed him, though, on your way to pick up some discarded dishes from the night before.

Your first task of the morning was always making breakfast for whoever was up at the time. The fluffy skirt got in the way of your work, and you had to be careful to not burn the petticoats when you put the tray of bacon into the oven.

“Well don’t you look cute?”

You yelped in surprise at the sound of Shigaraki’s voice, quickly shutting the oven. “Er… thank you, Mr. Shigaraki.”

“Oh, please. You can call me Tomura when no one else is around.” He stalked over, removing the hand from his face and setting it on the counter, his eyes raking up your body. “Too bad the shipping took so long, I would’ve had you wear this a long time ago.”

“I appreciate the compliment, Tomura, but… I really should be getting back to work.” As if to drive your point home, you pulled down a bowl to crack eggs into.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m here for work.” Tomura came up behind you, his palms coming to rest on your hips, with his pointer finger poised in the air.

You couldn’t help the squeak that escaped your throat when you felt his hips grind against your back. You tried to turn around and pry yourself away, but he held fast. “Wh-what are you–?”

“Oh, did you not read that part of the contract?” Tomura laughed low in his chest, burying his face into your neck. “That was awfully careless of you. You’re here to take care of all my needs, including more–” he punctuated his words with another harsh grind against your ass, “–intimate ones.”

“B-but… I…”

“But what? It was on the contract. I’d be happy to go get it.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but quickly closed it. Of course you chose not to read the contract, he probably meant for you to not read it. After all, you doubted you would have taken the job if that was part of the description, and he knew it too.

“I mean, if you really don’t want to, I’d be happy to go find someone else. Can’t guarantee you can keep your job, though.”

You took a deep breath before nodding, bracing yourself on the counter. “F-fine.”

“Good~”

Within an instant Tomura was kneeling behind you, and shoving his face within your petticoats. You could feel his warm breath on your clothed heat, letting out a surprised yelp when he tore a hole in the tights.

“Don’t know why I even bothered getting these, I knew they would end up ripped anyway…” He mused softly, giving you a few kittenlicks through your underwear before finally moving it to the side. His tongue was on you immediately, flicking your clit and lapping eagerly at your cunt. Your thighs tried to press together, instead squeezing Tomura’s head between the soft flesh.

“Aww, is kitten enjoying this?~” He purred, two fingers coming up to circle your clit. “Good. I have to make sure you’re nice and ready for my cock.” With that he nestled his face back between your legs, pressing the flat of his tongue against your core in order to take a long, drawn out lick.

Tomura didn’t seem to show any signs of letting up no matter how much you whined and tried to push him away, nor how tight the knot in your stomach was getting from his constant ministrations.

“Ah ah, kitten. I just want to make sure you’re not gonna hurt when you take my cock.” He gave your clit a teasing flick with the tip of his tongue. “It’s no fun if you don’t feel good while I’m splitting you open.”

You couldn’t find the words to argue with that, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to anyway.

Your grip on the counter was turning your knuckles white, and you couldn’t help your whimpers and whines as you jutted your hips back against Tomura’s tongue. The stimulation continued without interruption, and you were getting so close, your velvety walls tightening around the tongue that had thrust itself inside of you. And just as your vision became blurry around the edges…

Tomura pulled away, licking his lips and removing his head from your skirts, standing up straight once more.

“N-no faaair!~” You whined, your tongue hanging out as you panted to catch your breath.

“Mm, I’d just much rather have you cum on my cock, kitten~” Tomura gave a low laugh at the childish pout that you took on, quickly freeing himself from the constraints of his pants. Once his length had broken free, he gave it a few languid pumps as he flipped up your skirts.

You let out a low keen as he slowly pressed inside, punctuated by a grunt when his hips pressed flush with your ass.

“F-fuck, kitten~” He growled, face coming to bury itself in your shoulder. “So fucking tight…” He didn’t give you any time to adjust before he was madly gyrating his hips against you, only pulling his cock a few inches out before slamming it home with a bit too much force.

As much as you wanted to hate it, you couldn’t help the squeaks and moans that flowed from your lips with each animalistic thrust, especially when one of his hands came down to circle your clit in time with his bruising movements. You wanted to push him off when he pawed at your hips and ran his tongue up the side of your neck, but the majority of your mind was determined to at least reach your end.

You could feel yourself getting close once more, standing on your tiptoes in order to give Tomura better leverage to hit the spot inside you that made you see stars. Your moans were growing louder and louder, and you clawed at the countertop for some kind of purchase as you neared your edge.

Just as you were about to cum, you felt a spurting inside you: Tomura’s cum painting your insides white. Once he came, all his movements stopped, prompting a displeased whine to be ripped from your throat.

“Aww, did you not cum?” Tomura gave a fake pout, stroking your hair tenderly before he grabbed a handful and gave a gentle tug, his face contorting into a grin. “Too bad, isn’t it? I guess you’ll have to come find me later if you really want it that much.”

“B-but… I n-need to cum!~” You whined, smushing your cheek against the counter and giving Tomura the biggest teary doe eyes you could muster.

“Is that so?” He gave a thoughtful hum, wiping your tears away and stroking your hair once more. “That’s really quite a shame. Though, your job is to please me. You being allowed to cum every time isn’t part of the contract~”

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #bnha x reader #tw: dubcon

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