#I meant to have him chewing on his tail in his sleep but I’d already inked in some lines lol

[fistfuloflightning]

For the prompts, may I request Tianlang-jun and/or the best snek boy, Zhuzhi-lang? Thank you! ❤️

Ouroboros

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

By the king’s hand 🐍 III

Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers. (This chapter: oral)

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You await the king’s next move.

Note: One day off. Managed to get this done!

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

When at last you managed to look away from the likeness of the imperious king, you tried to sit. You found it hard to stay still however and instead, paced the expanse of the chamber. You stopped at the tall windows to look out onto the palace lawns, a glimpse of the city visible beyond the walls. Would you ever see the other side of them again?

You looked down at yourself as you swept away from the glass panes. The gaudy gown made you grimace and you went back to your restless strides. You rung your hands and made yourself stop, fidgeted with the thin fabric that swished around your legs, and squinted closely at the few pieces of miscellany scattered on tables; a few pens, a ring, and a bound book.

The sound of boots came muffled from the corridor and you turned as the doors shifted. The guard without pushed inward and stood back as the king swept past him. You stopped behind the sofa and watched Loki as he didn’t seem aware of your presence. A boy, about fifteen or so, followed at his heels and barely evaded the snap of the doors as they shut.

You bowed and waited for his acknowledgement. You received none as you kept your head down and followed him with strained eyes as he crossed to the set of doors painted with winding snakes. The young boy opened them and the king disappeared beyond them, though they remained ajar.

You waited, hands folded, chin lowered, and listened. The soft rustle of clothing, the ruffle of activity unseen. It was a time before the king bid away his servant.

“Go.” His voice slithered through the silence, “Fetch my dinner, boy.”

You held your breath as the adolescent emerged and swiftly crossed to the other doors. He left you there and another deathly hush rose around you, laced with anticipation and impatience. You heard soft footsteps approach the open doorway and halt upon the threshold.

“Little mouse,” the king said cloyingly, “You might stand up straight now.”

You bit down and raised your head. Your eyes met his as he smirked across at you. He wore a deep green robe embroidered with golden serpents, tied loosely at his waist to allow a glimpse of his pale torso. His silk pants were loose as finely stitched slippers poked out from beneath the hems. His crown did not top his locks as they hung loosely along his shoulders.

“Why, you do look much recovered,” he purred as he casually pushed away form the doorframe, “Better, even.” He did not come close, merely went to the table and pulled out a chair to perch. He slung a leg over the other as he bent an elbow on the tabletop. “I was, most irritatingly, called away to council.”

You were quiet. You stayed on the other side of the couch as if it were a barricade from his lingering gaze.

“Come closer,” he beckoned with two fingers, “I should like a proper look at… the gown.”

You hesitated. Your flesh, though healing, was still tender along your back. You went to him with careful steps and stopped a foot away from him. He looked you up and down. He reached out and his fingers closed around your wrist and he drew you between his legs as he uncrossed them.

His fingertips flew quickly to the beading along your bodice and he traced the curve of your side. He hummed as he peered up at you, your chest obscuring you slightly.

“Hmmm, I think I preferred you naked and chained,” he snickered. “Do you feel me still? Is the lesson still seared into your flesh, little mouse?”

Your lip curled and you swallowed. You nodded.

“Speak, when you are addressed by your king.” He demanded.

“Yes, your majesty,” you uttered, “The marks remain.”

He bunched your skirts in his hands and bared your thighs. He tickled your skin and pushed firmly to knead the muscle.

“Alas, I did send for my supper and I would not the boy happen upon my little games,” his thumb grazed the crease of your pelvis, “He is innocent and easily frightened.”

You stood, tolerant of his touch, as you felt a peculiar tingle inside. Disgust laced with something more; something you wanted to deny. His hands dropped reluctantly and he shifted in his seat.

“You will sit and eat. I understand you did little of that during your internment,” he said sharply, “I suspect it is the reason you had to be dragged out of there. That I did need to charge my staff with reviving you.”

“Must be the reason,” you muttered as you sat in the other chair across from him. You caught the gleam in his eye. “Your majesty.”

“Throughout your tenure here, thus far, I’ve a chance to learn more of the errant trespasser,” he preened, “Your uncle, Bo, he is a crafter and a merchant. You were charged with shaping clay pots for his shelf. Your little friend, Gilla, she is a baker’s daughter. I did not care much for her though.”

“Gilla…” you repeated quietly. “You…”

“I did not harm her. I only asked her some questions.” 

The door opened suddenly and he sat up. The boy was accompanied by two other servants who set out wine, glasses, and plates. The flurry of activity departed as quickly as it had arrived and you were left alone once more with the king.

“She’s a talkative one but she does not say much of substance,” he mused as he took his fork, “But I still learned much.”

“Oh?” You twirled your fork anxiously.

“Nothing more than I couldn’t surmise on my own,” he shrugged, “I’ve come to realise your obstinacy.” He mused, “And let me say, that will not hold and I do look forward to testing it.”

You frowned and he bit into a morsel of pork. He chewed and swallowed emphatically.

“Oh, that look,” he pointed at you with his fork, “It assured me I am right.”

🐍

Your stomach was both happy and sore from the meal. It had been long since you had eaten much more than broth and hard bread, if anything at all. While the food was delicious, the circumstance was less than. You found it less than hospitable to be under the gaze of the king. Though he was not so intent, his eyes returned often enough to make you worry. You were wise enough to know that when the meal was over, there would be no pretense left, though you could not guess exactly at what he meant to do.

The young boy, who he called Hal, cleared the table and left another bottle of wine in his stead. Loki poured another glass for himself and glanced at the one you’d barely touched.

“I’d suggest you drink but truly it makes no difference to me,” he winked as he took a gulp of his own. “But you do seem rather… antsy.”

You said nothing and took the glass. You drank deeply and nearly spluttered. You drained the cup and placed it back on the table.

“I do not enjoy your ploys, your majesty, I would prefer you be to the point,” you said, “I am not naïve and the idea would be entirely unknown to you.”

“Ploys? To the point? I haven’t an idea of what you mean, little mouse.”

You drew your brows together and blinked. “If you long to see me squirm, I already am.”

“Oh, I do see it but I will not be done with you so quickly,” he threw back the last of his glass and set it beside your own, “Come.”

He took your head and led you to the door of his bedchamber. You had the urge to stop before you could enter but let him guide you. The black drapings of his bed, the silver sheets, and the lush pillows assured you of your fate. You knew what would come but you could not fathom the extent of his cruelty.

It was said that it hurt the first time for maidens. You suspected the pain would be worse with him. He didn’t make anything easy. He always added to any discomfort. He pleasured in it.

“Squirming, shaking, or shivering, mouse?” he wondered as he neared the bed and you trailed behind him. He tugged you onward. “Is it fear? It must be for there is no draft.”

“Stop, stop, please,” you said breathily, “Do not draw this out any further.”

He tilted his head as he turned and sat on the edge of the bed. He released you and untied his robe and lifted himself to drag the tails from under him. He tossed it away and sprawled across the mattress with a sigh. He sidled over and bent an arm behind his head. You tried to ignore the bulge in his silk pants as he rubbed the space beside him.

“I had the impression that you already slept for quite a time but… I suppose the dungeon still takes a toll,” he remarked, “Lay down, little mouse. You might put out the light before you do.”

You looked around and went to the lamp on the round table in the corner. You blew it out and the silver slats of moonlight lit your path back to the bed. You slid your slippers off before you touched the woven blanket. You lifted a knee onto the mattress and the king gripped your wrist again. He pulled you down against him in a single motion.

“I am rather tired. My day did stretch on,” he said as he nestled you against him. His other hand went down and rested over his crotch. He rubbed himself and groaned. “A good night’s sleep would do us both well.”

He retracted his hand and pulled your arm across his torso. The taut muscles of his stomach were warm against your skin and sent a tickle along your spin.

“The nights of late summer do tend to grow chilly,” he reached over and played with the embroidery of your bodice. “And I find myself restless.”

He let out a long breath and the tension left his body. You laid in silence, eyes wide as you waited for him to do something. Anything. A rumble went through his chest and made you flinch. He chuckled.

“In due time, little mouse,” he promised, “Our games are not over yet.”

🐍

You didn’t recall dozing but you awoke gently to stirring beside you. The king slipped his arm from beneath you carefully. You were surprised by his caution. The bed moved slightly as he shimmied to the other side and stood. He moved in the dark as you remained as you were.

He rounded the bed and paused. He slid his hand along your thigh, your skirts tangled in your legs. He drew away and you listened to him retreat to the bath chamber. There was the subtle swish of water and dainty activity beyond. You wanted to fall back asleep and escape the odd reality.

Then you heard more. A low groan that soon grew to laboured breaths. It went on for several minutes. You crushed your head into the pillow as you tried not to listen. A stifled grunt ended the illicit rhythm. Another sigh.

He didn’t emerge for a few more minutes. He went into the receiving chamber and you heard the other set of doors creak. Shortly, you heard the thin voice of the boy, Hal, and the king returned to let the boy dress him. You watched him by his shadow in the early morning light.

“Go to Birger and fetch the rest of the girl’s wardrobe,” he bid, “I expect that all will be put away before my return. Bring her some food when she wakes and ask Birger to help you, should you require it.” The king strode to the door and stopped again, “And make sure the guards remain on watch. She is more trouble than she seems.”

You laid still until you were certain they were gone, though Hal remained in the receiving chamber. You wouldn’t fall back asleep. You were too on edge. So you stared up at the ceiling and brushed your arm over the spot where Loki had slept beside you. 

It hadn’t been at all what you expected. It was like you were holding your breath, waiting for the tension to snap the branch beneath you. Waiting for Loki to be just who you knew him to be. The king who had lashed you in the dungeon, the arrogant prince who demanded and got all that he wanted.

When you dared to rise and poked your head out into the next chamber, the boy hopped up from where he sat before the hearth. You were careful not to take long steps as the skirt threatened to bare more than you wanted. 

“You don’t have to,” you waved him down, “I can tend to myself.”

“I must bring your morning meal,” he insisted. “As the king wishes.”

“The king,” you mulled as you took a seat at the table, “Is he kind to you?”

He narrowed his eyes and thought, then shrugged. “Well, I suppose he is crueler to others so yes.”

“That is hardly kindness,” you said.

“I’ve had worse masters,” Hal replied. “And less rich.”

You nodded and ran your fingernail along the tabletop. “Well then…” You tapped the wood, “Go on then.”

The boy left and you let out your breath. You hung your head and rubbed your eyes. You listened to the morning birds and the breeze in the leaves. You knew the calm would give way soon to a great storm.

🐍

After you picked at a hard-boiled egg and some rashers, Hal returned with Birgir. They carried a large chest between them and set it down heavily before a painted armoire in the bedchamber. You watched as they hung the silks, satins, and brocades. Slippers were placed along the lower shelves and a few cloaks slung alongside the numerous gowns.

Birger bid you change your outfit and you placated him if only to rid yourself of his disapproval. You dressed in a burgundy dress with a similar cut as the first. None offered much more coverage, often less, and you scowled at the thought of donning them. You tucked your feet into a pair of slippers and washed your face of the make-up that remained from the previous day.

You were once more alone and left to languish in the king’s empty chambers. You thought of the dungeon. At least that was not a farce. At least the dank, dripping depths did not try to disguise your sentence.

You pulled the curtains back from the glass doors in the bedchamber. A balcony stood without as the sun peaked. You slowly turned the curved handle and pulled them open. You stepped out tentatively and looked around. You inhaled the scent of the wind and pollen. You hadn’t been outside in so long that you were overcome with nostalgia, with longing and dread. 

Would you ever know what it was to run across the grass again? To watch the rivers flow and dream of following them?

You went to the rail and looked down at the trimmed lawns and their pristine hedges and the beds of colourful buds. Birds danced along the rims of the fountain and other critters dove in and out of the maze of greenery. You leaned your elbows on the marble rail and stared down. It was far; far enough to kill.

You looked at the balcony, at the slates of the railing, at any foothold that might be found along the wall. You bent further over as you tried to spy those below and if they were close enough to land. Your thoughts ventured to escape, as risky as it might be, and you were want to laugh at your foolishness.

You felt something in your skirts, then a firm grip on your ankles. Suddenly you were tipped over the edge and you cried out as you were certain you would plummet to your death. You grabbed onto the marble slats as you we held dangling over the rail and you looked up at your accoster.

The king guffawed at your fear as you clung to the side of the balcony and slowly pulled your feet back over to the other side. His hand slid up your leg and ass and he grabbed the back of your bodice as he drew you up straight. He caught your hand before you could slap him.

“Now, now,” his hand crushed yours, “Did we not already learn this lesson?”

“You could’ve killed me!” You whined.

“I could’ve. And still could,” he smirked as he trapped you against the rail. “There is much I could do to you.”

You stared at him in disgust as he pressed his body to yours. His hand went to your chin and he framed your face with his long fingers.

“I could bend you back over this bannister and let my kingdom hear what it is I want to do to you,” he sneered. “Gods, the thought has me harder than last eve.”

He dragged his thumb over to your lips and poked inside your mouth. You resisted for a moment, until it hurt, and he pressed down on your tongue.

“If you were to be on your knees, no one should see you,” he said, “They wouldn’t know why it was you kneel before me…”

You swallowed as your stomach filled with bile. He pulled his thumb from your mouth and took a step back.

“So on your knees for your king,” he pushed apart the tails of his overcoat and lifted the bottom of his tunic as he unlaced his trousers, “I’ve been rather patient and it is not a habit I know well.”

You stared in aghast as he rubbed himself through his trousers and winced. His eyes flicked back to you and his face darkened.

“I said ‘on your knees’,” he barked, “Little mouse, you must really start obeying me or I shall have to repeat that lesson.”

You slowly bent your leg and rigidly got down to your knees. He pushed open the front of his trousers and stepped close. You stared at the ground as he pulled himself free and stroked his length. He grabbed your chin again and forced your head up. You tried not to look at his member bobbing in your vision.

“Open that trite little mouth. I will make better use of it than your bitter words,” he squeezed and you gasped at the sharp twinge it sent through your skull.

You opened your mouth and he pressed his tip to your lips. He rested it there and rubbed it back and forth teasingly. You closed your eyes and he slapped your cheek lightly with his fingers.

“No, no, keep those eyes open,” he demanded, “They look so nice staring up at me.” He slid slowly inside your mouth, “So frightened. I daresay, you look, almost, innocent.”

He pushed further in until he was at your throat. You gagged and he went deeper with a snicker. He gripped your head with one head as he thrust to his limit and your eyes welled as you struggled to breathe around him. You’d never done anything with a man more than a playful peck on the lips. You never spent very much time thinking of more.

He eased you back and you took a deep gulp of air before he invaded your throat again. The sickly noise of your spit and his member was repulsive. His eyes held yours as he moved his hips slowly and you latched onto his belt to keep from slipping.

“Little mouse, I only hope your mouth is an omen of what else you have to offer,” he purred as he rocked his pelvis, “A delight…”

Each thrust felt deeper than the last, harder, faster. His groans rose in the warm air as he was encouraged by his own voice. He grew louder as your eyes threatened to roll back and his face contorted in his pleasure. He kept a hand on your jaw and the other on the back of your head as he used your mouth.

You were dizzy as his intrusion felt as if it would never end. He threw his head back and you dared to close your eyes as your mouth turned salty. His voice rose louder and louder and filled your head. He dipped down your throat and his motion staggered. He gripped you tightly and moaned as he emptied himself down your throat.

He grunted with his few final jerks and pulled out sharply. He released you just as quickly and you fell to the side as he backed away and panted. You coughed his seed up onto the stone as he watched you. You could feel his shadow as he neared and you looked up as he cradled his glistening member.

“You’ve made such a mess, little mouse,” he reproached, “I shall forgive it this time, but the next, you won’t muddy my floors so.”

You choked as you sat back on your heels and stared at him with wet eyes. Your throat ached horribly and your head still spun.

“Go on, clean me up, darling,” he looked down at his cock in his hand. “I suspect I am late already.”

You shoved your repulsion down and neared him on your knees. He angled his tip back to your lips and you took him again in your mouth. You pressed your tongue to his member and slowly pulled back as you lapped up the last of his cum. He guided you up and down a few times and relented once more. 

He parted from you again, content, and tucked himself away in his trousers. As he laced himself up, he cleared his throat.

“Well, little mouse, I will say, I’ve done little for my patience,” he chuckled, “I do suggest you might have some wine before I return again… it is said to dull the pain.” He neatened his tunic and overcoat and ran his fingers through his hair. “And I promise, there will be a lot of pain.

[julek]

five times jaskier does nice things for roach, and one time she returns the favor.

(or, jaskier spends a ridiculous amount of time and money on a horse).

*

“i told you not to touch roach,” geralt says when he hears his mare stomping her feet on the ground, displeased. she’s tethered to a tree near their fire and geralt, now busy brewing some potions, had finished brushing her a few minutes ago.

jaskier curses himself mentally, still not used to geralt and his witcher hearing, capable of listening to a bird’s cry three towns away. reluctantly, he draws his hand away from the horse, grinning innocently in geralt’s direction.

“i was just saying goodnight!” he says, sitting down cross-legged on his bedroll, “first impressions are very important, you know. wouldn’t want her to think i was being impolite on purpose, not when we are this”—he pinches his fingers together—“close to being best friends.”

geralt looks up at him, unimpressed. “she doesn’t like you.”

behind them, roach snorts in agreement, and jaskier splutters in indignance.

*

the forest is quiet.

no birds chirping, no predators lurking around, no sound. ideal work conditions, in geralt’s opinion. he’s crouched down next to a fallen tree, waiting for the drowners to take his bait.

suddenly, the swamp’s stillness is breached by soft singing and feet stepping on branches. rolling his eyes, geralt stands up as quietly as possible and walks over to jaskier, who’s busy picking flowers from a nearby meadow.

“i told you to stay with roach,” he says in greeting, his eyes narrowed in annoyance.

jaskier yelps and turns around to face him, clutching his heart and letting the flowers fall to the ground.

“gods, geralt! warn a guy, would you? i thought you were one of those, um… what do you call them? swimmers.”  

“drowners.”

“my words exactly,” he says, gathering some long stems. “i was waiting with roach, mind you, but i got bored. so i looked around and thought hey! roach looks awfully dull without some pretty flowers weaved in her mane, so here i am.”

geralt lifts his eyebrows, abandoning all hope for a peaceful, quick hunt.

“she’ll trample you to death before she lets you touch her,” he deadpans.

jaskier tsks, already making his way back to their camp with his fresh selection of flowers.

geralt waits for the inevitable.

“fucking ow!” he hears, and feels a smile tugging at his lips. “that doublet was new! that is not how one reacts to gifts, you vicious horse. did that witcher teach you nothing about manners?”

he did, actually. he’s glad she’s putting them to use.

*

“fuck, i’m cold.”

they’re in the outskirts of blaviken, and much to jaskier’s chagrin, they’re making camp in the forest. winter’s near, and as much as he would have liked to sleep in a warm bed, he would have turned it down anyway. he’d seen the look on geralt’s face as they approached the town, and that had been enough of a reason to follow him into the forest.

jaskier is pacing around the fire, his woolen cloak snug around his shoulders, doing little to protect him from the biting wind. geralt had gone deeper into the forest to hunt something for their dinner and hadn’t yet returned.

he looks over his shoulder at roach, who’s laying down on the ground, her legs tucked under her body. geralt had slung a blanket over her back, and she’d been dozing off for the last half hour, seemingly unfazed by the cold.

he knows it’s a bad decision, and he’ll probably be kicked and yelled at, but right now he can’t find it in himself to care. his fingers are frozen and he can’t feel his ears, and he’s sure he’ll drop dead any minute now from hypothermia, so why not?

“hi, beautiful,” he whispers, crouching down next to roach, watching her reaction. “do you mind if i sit next to you? you see, it’s horribly cold,” he sits down, carefully as not to startle her, “and it’s something my brothers and i used to do, you know? huddling for warmth.”

if roach notices him laying against her side, she doesn’t show it. he gently places his head on top of her spine, and drapes himself in his cloak.

“you’re incredibly warm, did you know that? had i known that before, i would have cuddled you sooner.”

he’s so warm and comfortable he almost doesn’t notice geralt coming back. he hears his footfalls but decides to ignore them, too cozy to move, but roach has other plans. all of a sudden, she stands up, leaving him on the floor, confused.

“wha—roach!” he exclaims, picking himself off the ground. “we were doing fine! what happened?”

geralt smirks as he starts to skin the rabbit. “maybe that will teach you not to bother her.”

“but you don’t understand, i—we were happily laying side by side just a minute ago!” jaskier says, sitting in front of the fire. “you startled her.”

geralt snorts. “i did?”

jaskier rolls his eyes and looks at roach, who’s laying down again, unperturbed. “traitor,” he whispers.

*

spices, curated meats, oils, and baked goods are all geralt can smell, meaning this particular market isn’t too big and they’ll be out on the road soon. that, if he can get jaskier to hurry and get whatever he so desperately needs.

“oh, that stone is beautiful,” the bard says to a bald salesman, keen on selling him a new ring. “alas, it’s much too expensive for me.”

he gives the salesman a sheepish smile and moves on to the next stall.

“i just need one more thing, dear witcher, and we can be on our way,” he says, grinning.

geralt arches a brow, but says nothing. better not to distract him, he’s learned.

“hello, madam!” he chirps, looking at the goods displayed on her counter, “if you would be so kind, i’d like a full bag of sugar cubes.”

huh. that’s not what geralt had been expecting. cherries, maybe, or a honeycake, not sugar cubes.

jaskier pays the woman and kindly thanks her, then ties the small bag to his belt. “well, i’m done. are we leaving?”

geralt nods.

they make their way to the side of the road, where roach is nibbling on the outgrown grass. he takes the herbs he’d purchased and places them inside roach’s saddlebag, while jaskier resumes his daily chattering.

“you’re looking quite dashing today, my lady,” he says, gently stroking the mare’s neck.

geralt expects roach to hastily brush jaskier’s hand aside, but much to his surprise, she doesn’t, snorting happily instead. he looks at them for a second, dumbfounded.

“geralt? are we going, then?”

“hmm.”

*

summer is kind enough to let a gentle breeze filter through the trees, giving jaskier a breath of clean air.

he’s got his breeches rolled up to his knees, and his doublet is nowhere to be seen. they’d been traveling nonstop for two long, humid days, the burning sun above them, and jaskier had been too tired to even sing, lazily strumming his lute as he walked next to geralt. then, in the middle of a pointless rant about how the world would be better off without the sun and its infernal heat, jaskier spotted a stream.

grabbing roach’s brush from geralt’s saddlebags, jaskier takes her reins and gently leads her into the stream. she complies, braying lightly as she feels the water on her legs.

“i know, girl,” jaskier says, gathering water on his cupped hands and letting it pour on her head, minding her ears, “it’s too hot out, even for you.”

he looks over to geralt, who’s got his back to them, scrubbing mud from his boots.

“you know,” he murmurs, smoothly brushing her mane, scratching behind her ears, “he doesn’t think we’re friends, you and i.” she snorts in response, and he chuckles. “he still thinks you don’t like me.”

she moves forward, and jaskier’s about to move out of the way to let her walk out of the stream when she bumps her head affectionately against his chest.

“oh,” he whispers, overcome with emotion. “as you know, i’ve become quite the expert at reading geralt’s hums and silences, but this is uncharted territory. animal behavior is foreign to me.”

she swishes her tail, and jaskier huffs out a laugh.

“i’ll give it my own meaning, then,” he says, pressing his nose against her snout. “i love you too.”

*

the tavern is packed to the brim, overflowing with hearty patrons who served as a great audience, generously rewarding jaskier with applause and tankards of ale with his name written on them.

“thank you, my good men and women, for listening to my tales!” he exclaims, hopping off the stool he’d been using as a makeshift stage.

he heads to the bar, picking up two of the mugs and moving toward the corner where geralt’s sitting, half-hidden under the shadows.

“help yourself, witcher,” he says, smiling brightly. “the crowd was kind to us tonight.”

to you, geralt thinks but doesn’t say. instead, he takes a swig of ale. “so i’ve seen.”

jaskier beams at him, his cheeks flushed and his hair matted with sweat. he downs half his glass, sitting back on his chair, sighing contentedly.  

they spend the evening in comfortable silence, jaskier casually making remarks about the town or the last contract, taking small bites out of a piece of bread. after a while, geralt stands up.

“i’ll go check on roach.”

“oh, good!” jaskier says, standing next to him. “i forgot my quill in her saddlebags, i’ll go with you.”

geralt hums, and they walk past the people at the tavern. they reach the half-lit stables at the back, where roach chews on some straw in her stall.

“hey, sweetheart,” jaskier greets, stroking her snout. geralt starts brushing her down, and jaskier looks into her saddlebags for his forgotten quill. a long time ago, geralt had given up on trying to split their belongings into different bags, realizing the your side, my side logic meant nothing to jaskier.

after all, they shared everything. coin, wine, food. beds, sometimes, waking up with their legs entwined, jaskier’s head on geralt’s shoulder, embraced in what they both tried to pass off as the natural seeking of warmth on cold nights, nothing else.

jaskier leans against a pillar, watching geralt take care of his horse. they’d been traveling together for so long, yet it still amazes jaskier to see geralt move around roach. how his gaze softens, and a small smile stretches across his lips, only for roach to see. how he murmurs sweet nothings, rubbing that spot on her jaw he knows she likes.

“okay,” geralt says, “go to sleep, now. we’re leaving at dawn.”

roach bumps her head against geralt’s chest, lovingly, and he gives her a smile.

“goodnight, darling,” jaskier says, sneaking a sugar cube into her mouth. “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

when he turns back, geralt’s looking at them with a fond expression, a small smile on his lips. he moves toward jaskier, his eyes soft.

“you’re spoiling her”, he says, amused. this close, jaskier can see geralt’s got a little bit of mud on his chin, and he wants to wipe it off.

“she’s a good horse,” jaskier tells him, feeling roach’s eyes on him. “she deserves nice things.”

“hmm.” geralt closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling softly.

jaskier moves forward, licking his thumb, and gently wipes geralt’s chin. he opens his eyes, watching jaskier.

“there,” jaskier whispers, his thumb now stroking geralt’s cheek.

suddenly, he feels roach nudge him forward with her snout, and he stumbles onwards, clutching geralt’s shirt for balance. they’re close, geralt’s breath on jaskier’s cheek, his hands on the bard’s waist.

“she’s a clever horse, too,” geralt says, pressing the tip of his nose against jaskier’s, rubbing softly.

“she is,” jaskier murmurs against geralt’s lips.

roach nickers softly in agreement.

[xaphrin]

Friend, I assure you, that was not angst. I have no angst skills. None. But, here. Have some adult nonsense. Happy Smut-entine’s Day. 

- - - 

“Wasn’t that her brother’s best friend?”

“Step brother.” He snorted, surprised she was following what miniscule plot there was. It was like she had never watched one of these movies before. “I don’t think they’re related. I don’t think this is that kind of movie.” 

“Ah.”

In spite of her best efforts to remain calm, Jason could hear the hitch in Raven’s breath and he smirked behind his glass, his eyes darting over to watch her face. She couldn’t look away, from the massive, high-definition screen in front of them, and her arms folded under her chin as the jacuzzi bubbled around her shoulders. Honestly, he would have been happy watching Die Hard for the hundredth time, but Raven wanted to prove something to him. 

He took another drink of the whiskey in his hand, reaching behind him to grab the bottle. The delightful hum of a solid buzz was infiltrating his bloodstream and his head, making him feel oddly comfortable around her. He was half-tempted to start jerking off, but instead he focused on the occasional peek of Raven’s back dimples as she floated in the delightfully warm water. 

He took another gulp of whiskey and watched those dimples flirt with the waterline. “Have you ever watched a porn before?”

She turned around and blinked at him, settling herself in the water and turning away from the porn on the screen. Jason’s eyes searched her face, letting the obvious fake moans and grunts of sex echo behind them. Raven shrugged and reached for her own glass of whiskey, downing it in one gulp before motioning for Jason to fill it again. 

“I’ve walked in on Gar masturbating to Animal Planet before, if that counts.” There was a look of horror in her eyes. “In the living room.”

Jason snorted. “That sounds like you’re scarred for life.” 

She smirked at him, her eyes dark. “Probably.” There was a brief pause and she shook her head. “But for myself? No. I’ve been… interested, but there isn’t really anything that catches my attention when I look. Big Ass. Big Tits. Gay. Lesbian. Anal. Hentai. But, nothing that really sparks me. It’s all just so… fake.”

“Yeah. I guess I can see where you’re coming from.” Jason took another drink from his glass and looked up at the screen, watching as the girl knelt in front of the man on the screen and started sucking his cock. He shifted and glanced back at her. “Demi?” 

Raven flushed and shrugged again, trying to look nonchalant. “Probably. I never really thought about it before.” She swam over to where he was and sat next to him, kicking her feet out in front of her. He watched her trim legs float to the surface before she lowered them again. “I just like to know the person first. Feel something for them. Love or friendship - camaraderie even. Fucking just to fuck seems… primeval.” 

“Mm. I can respect that.” He shifted, and his eyes flicked up to the television screen. “Have you masturbated?”

She smirked and glanced over at him. “All the time. I’m particular about who I fuck, not getting off.” Raven took a deep breath and let it out slowly, glancing back at the screen. “Orgasming helps me keep my emotions in check, and by that regard, my powers. It makes things more manageable. So… I orgasm often.” She laughed, the sound easy and comfortable as she finished her drink. “I have it down to a science now, I can get myself off in five minutes and move about my day without fear of blowing anyone up - literally.” 

“Yeah?” He tried not to think about her taking a quick break, and burying her fingers inside herself. But the images were already there, and he couldn’t wipe them from his mind. He imagined her body trembling, her teeth biting her lips, and her back arching off her bed as she pleasured herself. He downed the rest of his drink and poured more whiskey in both of their glasses. “And what do you think about when you masturbate.”

Raven laughed again. “That’s private, Mr. Todd.” 

He shrugged, keeping his face calm. “It won’t go anywhere if you tell me. I keep secrets just as good as any other member of my family.” 

She went quiet, and he saw her reach up and toy with the string on her swimsuit top. Her finger twisted around the tail, curling it to the point it almost came undone. God. What he wouldn’t give to watch those strings fall, exposing her for him and him alone. She chewed on her lower lip and took another drink of whiskey before sighing. “I don’t know if you want to hear what I think about… it’s embarrassing.”

“It’s Beast Boy isn’t it?” Jason teased her easily. “You want to watch him watch Animal Planet.”

Her expression was deadpan, and she snorted. “I’d rather swallow glass.”

Raven set her glass behind her and she stood up, water dripping from her body. Her eyes were stern, her mouth set in a determined line, and without any other words, she reached behind her and unfastened her swimsuit top. Fuck. Jason ground his teeth together, and he watched with rapt attention as she moved towards him, resting her knees on either side of his hips. A moment slipped between them, and Raven leaned over his body until her lips brushed against his in an almost-kiss. He could taste whiskey still clinging to her lips, mixed with the taste of chlorine and sweat, and it made his heart pick up speed. He felt like his mind had been flying high, and now it was diving towards earth, with no intention of stopping. 

“You.”

Jason barely had time to process what she said before her lips were on his. Her kisses were unpracticed and a bit awkward, but no less passionate. She wanted this, and he wanted to give her whatever she wanted. His fingers tangled in her hair and he drew her tight against him, his tongue tracing her lower lip before slipping into the sanctuary of her mouth. She tasted like heaven - like light and darkness and whiskey and need all mixed together. Her breasts pushed against his chest, and Jason felt like he would never get enough of her. His hands trailed along her ribcage, up her spine, traced her body until he felt like he could remember the touch of her in his sleep.  

Raven pulled back, gasping as color flooded her cheeks. Jason stared at her, his hand coming up to trace her breast, teasing a nipple into a tight peak. Behind them, the porn still played, the girl on the screen now getting fucked by three different men. Jason fumbled to find the remote, turning off the TV as he looked up into Raven’s eyes. 

“How long?”

Her eyelashes fell, and she traced the edge of his autopsy scar before looking into his face again. “For years. Every time you came to see the team, every time I worked with you or your family. Every time we’ve been alone… it’s been torture. I don’t have enough words to describe my feelings for you. And you… are the only one I can bear to think about when I’m touching myself.”

Something unerringly male and possessive rose up inside him, and he reached for her swimsuit bottoms, toying with the string. “Yeah? And what do you think about, Raven?”

“Are you trying to get me to confess my fantasies to you, Jason?”

He was, and they both knew it.

Without another word, he pulled the string of the bikini bottoms, pulling them from her body and setting them with her top. His hands slid up her thighs to cup her ass, before he moved to press his thumb against her clit. She let go of a weak yelp and squirmed against him, but he didn’t move any more than that. With a slow smile, he caught one of her nipples with his mouth, his teeth scraping against her. She let go of a weak sound and one of her hands slid beneath the water to feather over his cock through his own swimsuit. He groaned and bit harder on her nipple, sucking on it before swirling the tip of his tongue over her. 

Finally, Raven collapsed over him, her hands trying to hold herself up as he continued to tease her clit with his thumb and curl his tongue over her nipple. He toyed with her until she was trembling, riding the edge of her orgasm like she was going to tip over the edge. Finally, he released her nipple and looked back into her face. “Show me.”

She blinked and looked down at him, trying to understand what he meant. “What?”

“Show me how you come.” His fingers trailed up her back, dripping warm water down her spine. “You said it takes you five minutes, right? So… show me how you come.” 

“Right now?” Her voice was breathy and gasping, and she let one hand slip beneath the surface of the water. “It’s going to take far less that that.”

Jason reached behind him and shut off the jets to the tub, leaving them both in clear water. He stared down into the water, and watched her hand slip between her thighs. She started slow circles over her clit, trying to get the right motion, before her pace picked up. Ah. So, that’s what made her come so fast. Just her clit. Is that what she liked? Just her clit toyed with? He made a mental note for later. His tongue came out to wet his lips, and he lifted a hand to her breast again, teasing her nipple. 

Raven’s eyes closed and she nodded, her words stuttering as she played with herself. “Just like that.” 

Jason glanced up into her face and he smirked. Any second now she was going to come, and he got to watch the show. He twisted her nipple hard, leaning down to bite it for just a moment. “Say my name.” He lapped at her breast and pulled back to watch her hand move. “When you come, say my name.” 

Her hand was moving faster now, desperate for release, and she responded to him through clenched teeth. “I always do.” 

Jason waited for an explosion behind her eyes, but her orgasm was… restrained. Like she was keeping too much of herself locked up. She stiffened, her head fell back against her shoulders, and she let out a soft, strained cry, his name spilling from her lips. Her fingers worked herself for a few moments longer before she sagged against him, swallowing air. The tension in her shoulders eased and she looked content and satiated, but it didn’t seem like it was enough. He didn’t want her satiated, he wanted her strung out. He wanted her to look like she had broken into a million pieces and would never find a way to put herself back together again. He wanted to see her begging for more pleasure.

Raven flushed and she looked down at him, pushing at her hair. Embarrassment lined her face and she glanced away, searching for words. “Look, I-”

She cut off whatever she was going to say as Jason got out of the hot tub. He stalked to the towel cart and grabbed two towels, wrapping one around his waist and handing another to her. She wrapped it around herself and stepped out of the hot tub. Jason bent down and grabbed her suit and the whiskey, motioning her to follow. 

“That looked like a nice orgasm.”

“Ah… it was?” Confusion filed her voice. 

“Yeah?” He stopped at the door to the rest of the house, turning around to face her. “I want to give you a great one.”

Heat filled her face and she shifted. “Like now?”

“Mm. Like now.” He leaned over her, forcing her to take a half-step back. “And… I’d rather not get interrupted if someone decides to come home early.” 

She shivered. “Jason, you don’t have to.”

“I know. But I want to.” He turned back around, opening the door and motioning her back inside the house. He grabbed her arm and led her up a flight of stairs. “I want to watch you panting and writhing beneath me. I want to eat you out until I’m full of you. I want to take you in every position I can possibly think of. I want you begging me to stop because you just don’t think you can take another orgasm.” He paused on the landing to turn to her, crowding her space. “And I want you more than just satiated. I want you completely and utterly destroyed. So thoroughly fucked you can’t move for days.”

Her eyes were wide as she stared up at him and for a long moment, he wondered if maybe he came on too strong. Maybe she wasn’t ready for this yet, and he had overstepped boundaries he shouldn’t have. He opened his mouth, searching for an apology that he just couldn’t quite find. 

Raven walked past him, letting the towel slip from around her body. Jason stood there in complete shock and watched her gorgeous ass step up the stairs. Finally she turned and looked at him, every inch of her naked skin on display for him and him alone. “We’ll have to think of an excuse as to why I’m sleeping in your room.” 

Jason grinned and followed her up the stairs. 

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 37

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff

; Word Count: 5k

; Warnings: Discussions of IVF, sperm donation

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: Thank you for the reception to the last chapter! :D I think that was the most comments/feedback in a long time for Flower haha. It means a lot to me to have your comments like that <3333 I hope you enjoy this one, perhaps it’s not really what you were expecting. I changed the last few around and the characters had decided this was the way they wanted to go! (it might sound silly but honestly, characters have a life of their own!)

; Flower Masterpost

-

“Meeps!” Hoseok’s calls from the hallway, catching your attention from where you’d lined up all your baking ingredients on the counter. “I’m heading out.”

Placing the glass bowl down carefully, you wipe your hands clean before heading out and smiling at him brightly. He’s got a dark denim jacket on alongside his new favourite black leather biker style boots, looking suitably rocker and even more sexy. Maybe you had a thing for those boots.

You don’t let him know this though, just watching as he pats his pockets to check he has his phone and wallet before a concerned expression takes over his face. Chuckling, you reach out to tap his hand, revealing the car keys he’s panicking over and causing his cheeks to fluff a pretty rose.

“Thanks. Do you want me to bring you anything back later? I can swing by the store on my way back home once we’re done?” Shaking your head at him, you squeeze at the hand you’re still touching and give him a thankful smile.

“No, I’m good. We’re going to order in later. Maybe that Japanese place that we ordered from the other week or something. Thank you, though. Enjoy yourself, okay? Text me when you’re going to set off.” Hoseok nods before leaning forward, giving you a quick kiss before he’s out of the door. 

Standing for a moment, you overhear the sound of his car starting up before turning around and heading back into the kitchen. Grabbing your phone, your fingers tap at the screen as you let the girl’s know that the door is open for them to just walk in. Almost as soon as you’ve sent the message into your group chat, you’re distracted away by the bark from Ciri at your feet.

She’s still pretty small, only a little bigger than she’d been three months ago when Hoseok had proposed, but you think that just makes her look cuter. Thankfully, she’s been very easy to train so far and she’s currently sat so prettily as she looks up at you, big eyes staring intently at your hands.

Another short, sharp bark makes you laugh as you glance at the stuff you’d gotten out to bake with. Crouching down, you stroke her fur and make baby noises to her until her tail is sweeping the floor rapidly.

“Ciri-billy, I haven’t even started yet! You can’t eat them as they are now. Have some patience my darling.” You don’t know why you call your pets the nicknames that you do, or even where the names come. They just tend to pop out of your mouth when you’re talking to them and you just roll with it.

It’s caused Hoseok to laugh more than once to hear you call Kasumi your chicken or Ciri your little pudding. Particularly given you don’t call him by many pet names, instead just using his name or Hobi. Occasionally he’ll get a ‘babe’ or a ‘sweetheart’ but it’s not too often.

“Soon my bub.” Giggling, you give her a final stroke before standing back up and facing the counter. Quickly opening Spotify and beginning the playlist of your favourite songs, you keep your phone within easy reaching distance while looking over the recipe you’d printed out earlier in the day.

It takes only minutes for you to become entranced in what you’re doing; careful measuring of ingredients and the delicate balance of mixing them to create a wonderful treat. Only what you’re making today isn’t for yourself, or even your best friends.

No, they’re for Ciri. You’d found a recipe for grain-free dog treats and you’d decided to try making them. Part of you couldn’t quite believe what you were doing, particularly for a dog, but you would enjoy seeing Ciri enjoy them all. It wouldn’t surprise you if Hoseok decided to try and eat one himself.

You’re so involved with baking and singing along to the music that plays through the Bluetooth connected speakers in the kitchen, obviously something that Hoseok had bought because you’d considered it pointless, that you don’t hear the front door opening. It’s only when you turn to put some of the finished treats onto the wire trays that you’ve lined up that you realise when Chungha is suddenly standing in front of you.

Shrieking, you jump and have to battle to not drop all the freshly baked goods onto the floor while cursing up a storm. Almost immediately she moves to help you, apologising profusely as she yelps when grabbing a falling dog treat, her face twisting as it burns her fingers.

“Oh fuck! Chungha, shit. Are you okay? Oh my god, come over here.” Tugging her to the sink, you turn on the cold water and shove her hand under it, ignoring her whine of pain as the cold water interacts with her burn. The two of you focus on making sure it’s okay, even resulting in you going to grab the first aid kit Hoseok had bought a year ago when a sudden voice interrupts.

“What is going on here?” Two sides of wide eyes turn to Soyeon, letting her see the medical stuff you’ve haphazardly thrown on the side as you’ve looked for the burn ointment you could have sworn was in here. A glance at the treats causes a small ‘o’ to form on her pretty lips before she leans against the counter, elbows on the top.

“Ooh, baking mishap?” Teasing you with a grin and a wiggle of her brows, you nod before handing Chungha the tube you’d finally found. She gives you a smile of gratitude and applies some to her hand, her lips pursed into an adorable pout as she concentrates. You’re so busy concentrating on watching her that you almost miss Soyeon’s hand as it reaches out to the wire trays.

“No!” Shouting, the word causes her to jerk in surprise as she snaps her hand back with almost obscenely wide eyes. Cringing, you realised that you’d perhaps been a little bit too loud and give her an apologetic wince.

“Sorry. I just...they’re not for us. They’re for Ciri! I found a recipe to make some treats for her so I thought I’d give it a go. Think I made enough for her?” Brow raising, you chuckle while gesturing to the ridiculous amount. Perhaps you’d bought a little too many ingredients and gotten just a little excited in it.

There’s no way you could feed Ciri all this before they went off. She’d end up getting sick, and you hated having to clean that up. Which meant you couldn’t because then Hoseok would have to clean it up and you know he’d whine and pout the whole time.

“I can take some back for Mandu?” Soyeon offers, referring to the cute golden labrador that Jungkook and her had adopted two months ago. They’d gotten her from a shelter as a puppy and Jungkook had been the one to pick her name, unsurprisingly choosing something food-related given mandu was Korean-style dumplings.

“Sure, I’ll make sure you can take some back for Eevee too,” Glancing to Chungha, you gesture over to the box on the other counter. “For us though, I did make us some triple chocolate cookies! Not entirely sure how many are left because Hoseok was being a locust.”

That gets a snort from them all as you separate the dog treats so that all three dogs will get an equal amount before washing your hands. Chungha puts the kit away and takes out two glasses from a cupboard before handing one over to Soyeon. The two take a glance inside the fridge before filling them up with fizzy lemonade.

As far as you knew, that was just what Hoseok liked to drink with one of his alcohols. It made it more like a soft drink or something.

Grabbing the box of cookies, you head into the living room and sit on the couch with a leg curled up beneath you. Your best friends follow and sit as well, looking over at the television where Netflix has been paused in the show you’d been watching. One of what was considered to be your worst traits was that you took far too long to watch the ‘popular’ shows, which is why you’d finally started watching Breaking Bad way too late.

Hoseok had been bugging you to try and watch it for years now but you’d just never been interested.

“Ooh, you’re getting to a good bit.” Chungha comments, reaching forward to grab one of the cookies out of the box and munching on it. A soft noise of happiness leaves her as she chews, her butt wiggling as the flavours melt on her tongue.

“Shh, I already have to put up with Hoseok doing that. I don’t need you doing it too,” Pursing your lip into a pout, you cross your legs and grab the sleeping Pikachu cushion from your side before hugging it. “I’m going, to be honest with you as well, I don’t really like this. I don’t get the hype.”

As expected, both of them look at you with shocked faces that make you want to laugh. You don’t know what it is about going against the grain but the reactions you got never ceased to amaze you.

“Are you kidding? Breaking Bad is like...television perfection! The character arcs are just...urgh, exquisite.” Brow raising, you watch as Chungha continues to wax poetic about the show while Soyeon nods along and interjects now and again in support.

“Well, I think it’s pretty boring. And I don’t like Walter. He’s an asshole.” More shocked looks cause you to reach out and take the PS4 controller, exiting the show and moving on to look through the large list of shows and films Netflix had on offer. Without any input from either of them, you settle on The Umbrella Academy.

You’d already watched both seasons but it was something easy to have on in the background while you all probably talked instead. 

“How’s wedding planning?” The question comes from Soyeon, who lets her head drop onto the back of the couch. Kasumi is laid out next to her, probably purring contentedly as her soft fur is stroked and she gets all the scratches and love. Ciri is currently curled up between Chungha and you, her tail hitting your thigh gently.

“Good, good. We’ve chosen a date and booked the venue so...we’re going to get the invites done as soon as we can. Before we get onto picking stuff for the actual ceremony and all that, we’re going to book the honeymoon. Priorities, you know. I think we’re leaning towards Argentina for two weeks at the minute but that might change.” You were adamant on exploring the world with Hoseok and Argentina would be your first foray into South America.

Which wasn’t much really considering you’d only ever visited Italy and Thailand so far. But still, when the opportunity arose then you would grasp it firmly.

Chungha finishes off her cookie before brushing at her mouth delicately, “Have you bought one of those wedding planner’s? Where it lists out all the stuff for you to plan and add in ideas and stuff?”

Nodding, you smile at her before gesturing over to the bookcase to the right. Alongside the books, video games, figurines and plushies that had accumulated over time was the binder that you’d purchased only days after getting engaged. Part of you was still trying to get your head around the fact that you no longer had a boyfriend but a fiancé. 

And in a couple of months then you’d have a husband. It was odd to think about.

“Ah, it’s all exciting to think about.”

“It is, but I don’t have much more to tell you at the minute, to be honest. We haven’t decided much more apart from that and I haven’t looked into anything else. I’m trying not to overwhelm myself, you know? Go slow.” That gets them both nodding in acknowledgement before they look around.

“Where’s Hoseok gone today?”

“Oh, he’s gone to a concert with Taehyung and Yoongi. Some...weird prog-rock band or something. He’s been playing some of the songs lately and they sound odd but he’s into it so,” You shrug with a wry twist to your lips, causing them to snort. “I doubt he’ll be home before midnight, to be honest, so...we have the house to ourselves, ladies!”

“I mean...I’m pretty sure the most exciting thing we’re going to do is just eat food or something. Which is probably all we ever do when we’re together. You guys are not good for my waistline.” Soyeon groans, patting her flat stomach and you give her a droll stare.

“Really?”

“Yeah?” Chungha backs you up and you can’t help but laugh in amusement, giving her an equally amused stare. She’s just as skinny as Soyeon is but you can’t bring yourself to argue with either of them. Everyone has their issues going on after all.

That thought makes you frown and you reach out to Soyeon, clasping her hand tightly as you watch her with concern. Your sudden change in demeanour causes her brow to lower, gaze skittering away from yours given how intense it was.

“You’re okay, right? There’s nothing wrong or anything you’d wanna talk about?” The sincerity in your voice makes her smile softly, her free hand coming to rest against your own and squeezing it gently.

“I’m okay, I promise. It was just a joke, honestly.” Twisting your lips slightly, you stare deeply into her eyes before nodding slowly in acceptance. After spending so long hating yourself, you didn’t want to let your friends feel even an iota of the self-hatred you had. Especially when they were so pretty anyway.

“So err...while we’re still talking about moderately serious stuff, I have something to ask both of you. I mean...well it’s kinda weird that I’m asking you both but I figure I should ask you to get your permission before asking them.” Chungha is babbling and you tilt your head in question, brow creasing as you wonder what on earth she’s trying to get at. She seems nervous given the way her fingers play with themselves and her eyes skitter away from your direction.

“Dahyun was supposed to be here, you know that, but she’s ended up having to go see her grandparents as her grandma is sick right now. Otherwise, she’d be here too. So...we’ve decided that we want a kid. And we’re looking to adopt, we’ve put our names down and everything but it takes a while to even get approved for that. But we also would like to have a baby as well. Like...one of ours. I know Dahyun, in particular, is quite eager to get to experience pregnancy because she’d always dreamed of having a baby but as you can guess, being lesbians we don’t have the option of getting pregnant so easily.” Now your eyebrows have lifted high, probably almost to your hairline as you listen to Chungha’s nervous words.

It doesn’t surprise you that they’re wanting to have kids now. They’ve been together for a while as well, and you know that they’ve been considering whether or not to get married. For the moment though, they’d just registered themselves in a civil partnership, unsure whether they wanted to go through the whole wedding thing just yet. Though you did not doubt that they would eventually go for it.

Kids were the next logical choice for them, and you felt excitement bubbling in your stomach at the thought of Chungha being a mommy. Even if you didn’t like kids, it didn’t mean that you weren’t excited for your friends when they wanted to have them.

You could imagine that it was a bit more stressful for Chungha and Dahyun as a lesbian couple, as compared to a heterosexual couple. The more you thought about that actually, the more unfair it seemed. People were getting pregnant all the time by accident, but your best friend had to go through so much effort to get the same result.

“So, we’ve looked into IVF and all that stuff. There’s not just IVF, there are other methods too. But if we’re spending money on it then we’d rather have the best chance of success, you know? I’m not explaining it very well but I’m not a scientist either, we’ve researched it a lot and had a preliminary appointment either way. I just...have something potentially awkward to ask.” She pauses at that, her face twisting into a picture of nerves and hesitation.

A glance at Soyeon has you catching eye contact, but neither of you says anything and decide to let Chungha go at her own pace. You have an idea as to where she’s going with this, but you feel that she should at least be allowed to get there on her own.

“So, we can use sperm from a sperm bank, right? It’s all checked over and vetted, but it’s really expensive. And I know that sounds rich considering we’re wanting to have a baby and the last thing they are is cheap, but we’re trying to look at all our options for the moment. What I’m trying to ask in a long-winded way is would either of you be okay if we asked Hoseok or Jungkook to maybe donate? I know it sounds awkward given we know them and you’re both dating them but they can get everything tested and I’d feel a little easier if we knew the sperm donor, you know?” A grimace takes over her mouth, causing you to frown as you reach out and squeeze her leg in reassurance.

“Hey, there’s no need to apologise. I think we’ve all been friends for long enough that something like this can be discussed without ridicule or negative emotions, right?” Looking to Soyeon, you feel relief as she smiles and nods in agreement. “I’m excited for you to start a family! You know I’m not one for kids so I can’t say I understand the whole process you’re going through but I can assure you that I’ll support you and Dahyun the whole way. In terms of a donation...well it’s up to you, Soyeon, and Jungkook. Hoseok literally can’t.”

Glancing between them both, you make a scissors gesture and watch in amusement as both their eyebrows rise in realisation. It wasn’t something you’d discussed with them before, even if Hoseok had been fine about it, mainly because you’d felt Hoseok’s health and your sex life weren’t things to casually talk about. But you felt it important at this moment to make sure Chungha knew that you weren’t being callous.

“Oh? That makes sense though, you’ve never wanted kids and it doesn’t surprise me that Hoseok doesn’t want them either then. So that leaves Jungkook, huh?” Soyeon chuckles, leaning back against the couch and stroking at Kasumi’s ears gently. You wonder what she’ll say, given it’d mean her best friend having Jungkook’s baby before she does. 

Some women wouldn’t be on board with that, and you suppose it’s a sign of how much Chungha loves and trusts you both that she’s querying you both with this. On the other hand, you have complete confidence that if you both turned her down then she wouldn’t be offended and they would instead use a sperm bank as she’d said.

Chungha turns more to Soyeon, playing with her hands as her nerves ramp up. It must be affecting Ciri because the dog sits up, tilting her head and staring almost in concern at your friend. Smiling, you scoop Ciri into your lap and scratch behind her ears until her back leg is going.

“You can say no, I won’t be offended. Nor would Dahyun, if she could be here. We don’t expect anything. I just wanted to ask you both first because I felt it’d be rude of me to just go to him instead of querying with you two. You’re my best friends and they are your boyfriends after all. Also, Jungkook can definitely say no too. Once again, we don’t expect him to agree if he’s not comfortable with it. I just...wanted to ask, you know? We kinda considered all of Hoseok’s friends because neither of us has many male friends and we’d love to be able to have a better idea of the donor’s personality, a more detailed medical history and everything. Plus, with us having to do everything medically then it helps to make it a little more ‘normal’ for us. He doesn’t have to be involved in the baby’s life if he doesn’t want to be, otherwise, I’d just like for him to be known as an uncle. In the future, we’d tell them who their sperm donor was if Jungkook was okay with it and they wanted to know.” You find yourself nodding, appreciating the fact that Chungha and Dahyun have thought this through.

While Soyeon might agree to let them ask Jungkook, there was every chance that Jungkook might not want to agree anyway. Maybe he doesn’t like the idea of another woman having his baby, even if he won’t have any rights to it. Some people didn’t like things like that. Or maybe he just didn’t want to, for whatever reason.

The fact that she was making it clear that Jungkook and Soyeon were both allowed, even encouraged, to say no if they felt uncomfortable at any moment settled you. You didn’t want to think that your friends were being forced or coerced into something just because they felt that they had to do it.

“Would it be cheaper though? I mean, I’m assuming they’d have to do tests and stuff to make sure he’s not got any diseases or genetic things that they ideally don’t want to pass on? Doesn’t that cost a lot?” Chungha sighs and nods, her lips turning down slightly.

“We would, but the difference is that I doubt we’d have to do those tests often. So if he agreed then we’d have the tests done but then after that, we don’t pay anything else. The sperm bank that was recommended to us is $1000 for just one vial of sperm. So if that doesn’t work then we have to pay out again. And I’m not saying we wouldn’t pay Jungkook, we’re both willing to offer but the idea of being stung for that much for a tiny vial is painful.” The price makes your eyes bulge while Soyeon’s jaw drops.

“Holy shit! A thousand dollars for something he just washes away? Fucking hell, he’s wasting thousands every time he jacks off. Oh my god, that must be the most expensive thing I’ve ever had in my mouth then.” Snorting, you bite your lip in amusement as you consider how many times Hoseok had ejaculated with you. Though you doubted the man was getting anywhere near a thousand dollars, it was still mind-boggling to know that the price tag on a cumshot.

“It’s ridiculous, right? I mean, okay it’s not really because obviously, they have to do all those tests and stuff. But still! You can understand why we were shocked. Either way, if you or Jungkook says no then we’re going to go that way. I want you to know that we’re not laying all our eggs in one basket. No pun intended there.” That makes all of you chuckle, the mood lightening up as you do so.

Reaching forward to the box you’d placed on the coffee table, you grab another cookie before handing more out to the two of them. Each takes one with a grateful smile before biting into it.

“I’m okay with it. I’m not sure whether I want kids or not and I think we’re just taking it as an ‘if it happens then it happens’ approach. So, to me, I’m not bothered if Jungkook says yes. Plus, you’re my best friend and I’d much rather you have a baby where you know the dad and can get more information from him. And oh my god, Jungkook would make such good babies. They’d be adorable and he has the sweetest personality!” Soyeon squeals, shaking the cookie around in excitement as she imagines his metaphorical children.

For a moment, you imagine it as well and can’t help but smile. You certainly hoped that his babies would all get his big, emotive eyes alongside his endearing personality. Before you can comment on it though, Soyeon continues.

“I will make it clear though, that he doesn’t have to say yes. He might not be comfortable with the idea of having someone he knows having his kid. Or he might not like the idea of not being involved in their lives in a father kind of way. On the other hand, he might turn around and say that he isn’t bothered at all and will give you as much as you want. But I want it to be up to him. Thankfully, I’m not a hugely possessive person so I’m not bothered by the idea of his kids with someone else.”

Watching Chungha’s face carefully, you can’t help but smile at the palpable relief that spreads over it upon Soyeon’s words. That smile vanishes though when you see her eyes glisten, the unshed tears forming fast and causing you to gently put Ciri onto the floor before you’re scooting over to her. Wrapping your arms around her, you make reassuring noises.

You’re not one to get emotional, nor can you handle other people’s emotions, but your best friends are different. They’ve been in your life for long enough by now that you feel the urge to care for them, to listen to their worries and soothe their fears. Seeing Chungha, who is normally so strong, starting to cry at Soyeon’s words makes your stomach hurt.

“Hey, hey!” Soyeon gushes, rushing over to the other side of Chungha until you’re all in some kind of weird cuddle fest. It just makes Chungha let out a laughing sob, the sound thick as the tears slowly start to fall.

“I’m sorry. I just didn’t know if I was doing the right thing asking you both this. I know it’s something so big and important. You might have told me to fuck off and got angry with me at even thinking of it and I was so scared that you’d be annoyed by it. I mean, how many other people are going to ask their friends if they can have some of their boyfriends’ sperm to knock up their partner?” Wiping at her tears, you tut softly as you try to erase the eyeliner and mascara that’s begun to smear as well.

“I mean, it is a slightly odd ask. I think we can both agree with that,” Soyeon nods in agreement, running her fingers through Chungha’s hair. “But we’re your best friends. You didn’t demand this from us, you gave us a choice and made it clear we can deny it. I’ll be honest, if Hoseok hadn’t got the snip then I would’ve said no. I’m not personally comfortable with the idea of someone else having his baby. But I know that you would have accepted that choice and not tried to push me. Same as you’ll accept whatever decision Jungkook makes.”

“Yeah, she’s right. We love you, and we know you love us which is why you felt you could ask this of us. I’m more than happy to help my best friend start her family and I know that Dahyun has made you happier than anyone else has over the years. If everything works out then I’m going to be the coolest aunt ever.” Grinning brightly, Soyeon manages to succeed in making Chungha laugh softly.

Getting up, you rush off to the bathroom before coming back and handing her some tissue and make-up remover wipes to clean up her face. A brief smile of gratitude is given to you before she proceeds to scrub at her face.

“You’ll both be great auntie’s. Even if you’re not going to be hugely into the whole thing.” She’s looking at you then, wry amusement in her eyes as her lips twist slightly. Feeling heat spread in embarrassment at her words, you shrug and murmur an apology.

“Don’t worry, we won’t push anything on you. That is, even if it manages to happen. Who knows, maybe we’ll get approved for adoption super quick and we go through that first instead? I have no idea what’s going to happen.” At that moment, Ciri decides to make her presence annoy with a shrill yap.

Looking down at the floor, you chuckle at the sight of her annoyed face that she got pushed off the couch. Reaching out, she jumps up and wiggles herself so that she’s half on Chungha and half on you.

“Okay, I think we’ve had enough emotional and in-depth talks for today. Or at least, for this hour. How about we put on YouTube and just start watching animals being funny? Cheer us all up.” Reaching out for the controller, you exit Netflix as Soyeon nods.

The conversation isn’t quite over, you can tell that much, but you know that for now it’s just being put onto the back burner. You don’t have much more participation you can give the whole thing given you’re not being involved in it, but you’re sure that Chungha and Soyeon will talk everything out much more in-depth before Soyeon asks Jungkook.

It’s an important topic but given Chungha’s emotional nature right now, you don’t want to push it any further just yet. Instead, you figure it’s time to lighten the mood a little before any more serious talk can be had.

“Find one of those TikTok compilations, they’re so funny.” This comes from Soyeon as she points at the screen.

“What? No way, you have to watch like 20 TikTok’s to find one funny one. Vine was so much better.”

“Those are fighting words.”

[peachyteabuck]

come water me ☂

summary: after years of depending on science to give you a child, you think giving a magic a shot isn’t a half-bad idea (a commission for @myhoneybeeheart) 

pairing: steve rogers x thor odinson x reader (established steve rogers x reader)

words: 3,538

trigger warnings: infertility, MMF threesomes, creampies, praise kink, breeding kink, cuckolding, angst if you squint but like REALLY squint. REALLY REALLY squint. 

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

You and Steve had both done every test known to every male and female fertility specialist in the United States, along with several European countries, Japan, China, and Australia. Every single one, for each of you, pointed to the same thing – infertility.

Persistent infertility. As in, the both of you are not only infertile, but will continue to be infertile despite any type of treatments any type of doctor wants to put you through. Steve doesn’t qualify for experimental treatments, and you’ve tried at least five to no avail.

Long story short, neither of you can have biological children.

The problem is, you both really want biological children. But, according to biology, it just isn’t going to happen.

“Science says so,” the last doctor had told you, voice full of apology. “I’m so sorry.”

That particularly heartbreaking appointment was in the late afternoon, but the battery of tests meant you and your husband were stuck in the shitty doctor’s office until long past when the sun had set. You were grateful how dark it was when you left, terrified some Captain America stan or paparazzi would get a high definition picture of both you with puffy faces along with snot and stray tears still running down your face. It was late when you got back to your secluded high rise, neither of you hungry nor willing to feign it enough to order something. You didn’t know about Steve, but the sadness had somehow overwhelmed every single one of your senses – making your taste buds pointless and limbs numb. Silently, the both of you got ready for bed and held each other as emotional exhaustion acted as a second weighted blanket and lulled you both to sleep.

It was the next morning when you thought of what you had dubbed “the plan.” You had gotten up before Steve (unusual, as you’d been together long enough that wallowing in self pity was a shared activity) and sat at the kitchen table with unbrushed teeth, messy hair, and the sort of determination that comes with a self-reflexive ultimatum: if “the plan” didn’t work, you’d stop trying. You’d tell Steve that you’ve come to terms with your inability to conceive and continue your journey to start from the assumption that there was nothing either of you could do to make it happen. It’s a heartbreaking reality, but it was one you were willing to accept.

It took a few days to work up the courage, to find the right time to broach the idea with the man you chose to spend the rest of your life with. The perfect moment ended up being when you were both eating dinner, Steve telling a story about something ridiculous Peter had done on a mission (turns out, flirting with a fellow agent undercover as a full service sex worker is not a good idea). You were both happy, incredibly so, and you knew whenever your husband talked about the kid it ignited the special light inside of him that wanted to be a father.

It was the tail end of the story, he was two beers down (a special mix Tony had concocted that balanced with Steve’s serum-induced metabolism), and he was happy. So with a deep inhale and sustained eye contact, you rambled with your prepared speech that covered a few of concerns you knew Steve would have and informed him of your personal deal.

You finished quickly – words tumbling out of your mouth before you knew they were being spoken. Your heart beat loudly in your chest, blood rushed to your ears. You were terrified.

That was, until Steve gave his reply a few hours later.

(He asked if he could table the conversation for a little while, wanting to “think it over.” Of course you told him it was okay, especially since you knew there was dessert still waiting to be eaten in the fridge, and you were still very hungry.)

You imagined a lot of responses from your husband, the worst of which sounded like the beginning of a particularly sad Shonda Rhimes television show:

“You want to what?” Steve nearly screams. “You want to invite Thor Odinson in our marriage bed so that we can have a child!? No! I won’t allow it!”

You fall to the ground, sobbing, clutching your phone as you scream back. “I want what’s best for us! For our family! For our future child!”

Steve storms out of the bedroom, turning back to your crumbled figure just before stomping out. “I’m calling a divorce lawyer. I want you out by Monday.”

You expected you’d have to convince him, would have to coax his clenched jaw towards your face so he’d know how serious you are from the look in your eyes. Maybe you’d have to wait days, weeks, months before he’d agree, would have to have long conversations with him and his colleague about negotiations and boundaries and whatever else.  

What you didn’t expect was for Steve to agree not only immediately, but enthusiastically.

“T-that’s it?” you asked. You both were in bed, reading separate books before you’d each turn off the lights and go to sleep. He was reading something about battle tactics during Vietnam while you were thumbing through a book about the history of swearing.

Steve did not look up from his novel. “You want to have a threesome with Thor in the hopes it’ll give us a baby?”

You looked to him, brow furrowed. “Yeah?”

Now he puts the book down and turns to you. “The worst thing that happens is we have sex with a literal deity?”

At first you think he’s joking but, nope. He’s serious.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply again.

Steve shrugs before going back to his book. “Then yeah, but you have to call him.”

You blink a few times – shocked. Pleasantly shocked, but still shocked. “That’s…a deal. Yeah. I can, I’ll talk to him.”

Steve smiles, turning back to you once more and giving you a peck on the cheek. “Sounds good, babe. Let me know what he says.”

You nod, still a little surprised. “O-of course.”

With that, the conversation ends, and you need to figure out how to contact the man in question.

The next morning, you learn from the detailed calendar Tony’s assistant keeps that Thor’s on Migard for the rest of the month, doing…whatever. Honestly, you have no idea what he’s doing, and – even more honestly – you don’t care. Short of saving an entire population from destruction, you’re sure he can make time for you.

Luckily you find him easily, watching some reality show about weird white people in the living room of a common floor. You take deep breaths for stepping into eyeshot, asking if you can sit next to him (he says yes) before you start what is likely the most uncomfortable conversation of your life.

Somehow, though, Thor beats you to it. “If you want me to help you and Steve conceive, just tell me the date and time you want me in your bed.”

Even more so than when Steve accepted your recent proposal, you’re surprised by Thor’s forwardness. “Um-“

Thor smiles, putting a comforting arm around your shoulders before pulling you close against him. “Listen, I’ve done this with many families on many planets. I’ve never done it on Earth, but I’m willing to give it a try for you two. You deserve a child, and I’d be happy to help with that.”

You wipe a stray tear before allowing yourself to be enveloped into Thor’s massive arms. “Thank you,” you tell him after your heart had stopped beating at your ribs as if they were boxers going for the championship title. “Thank you so much.”

You feel Thor smile against the side of your head. “Of course, anything for you.”

You return to Steve with your findings, who agrees to set it up for the next night. The few hours before the mythical man is scheduled to arrive are an otherworldly combination, as if you had put giddy excitement, gut-wrenching fear, and determined optimism in a Nutribullet with bananas and strawberries and vanilla Greek yogurt and served it with-

“Honey, he said we both have to eat before,” Steve pulls the breaks on your train of thought, nudging your plate of food towards you with a small smile.  “I’ve known you for long enough to know what you overthinking and forgetting to eat looks like.”

You nod and sigh, biting into the seasoned steamed vegetables. “Sorry, I-“

Steve shakes his head, swallowing whatever from his plate he was chewing. “I’ve also known you long enough to not need you to explain. Just eat.”

He’s right, you think as you clear your plate. You’ve known Steve for over a decade, dating for nine of them and married for seven. He met you through Natasha, who knew you from your work as a professor studying the differing effects of veterans and civilians (how she found you is still a mystery) and invited you to a conference that Stark was funding and therefore required the Avengers to make an appearance. He knew everything about you, and you knew everything about him.

For the first time in a long time, you wonder whether that’s a good thing, or a bad one.

When Thor arrives, he directs the two of you with ease, accepting a glass of expensive red wine as he follows you to the expansive bedroom.

He makes you strip first, tells you to lay in the center of the bed with your legs spread over the end and arms at your side. Steve’s next, already half-hard as he takes his position by your head, on his knees so he can watch the show in front of you. He’s naked, erection hard against his chiseled stomach.

“You’re so beautiful,” you tell him, blissed out before anything had ever begun.

He smiles down at you, same look in his eye the same day you got married. “You, too babe.”

Thor lets you have the moment as he undresses himself, letting you wrap a hand around Steve’s cock as he slots himself between your legs.

“Mm,” Thor hums, tracking your every move with a precise eye. “What a pretty cunt you have…”

A deep moan from you cuts him off as he kneels and licks a wide stripe up your dripping center, his large hands moving under your knees to bend your legs to your chest.

“Oh!” you cry, one of your hands moving to clutch his long blonde hair. “Oh that feels so good!”

You can feel Thor smiling into your folds as one of his perfectly calloused fingers slowly enters you, reveling in your now-mindless acceptance of pleasure. “So tight,” he moans. “Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

It doesn’t take long for your brain to fry, losing your ability to do anything but moan and sloppily jerk off your husband as Thor begins to fuck two fingers in and out of you at a bruising pace.

Steve watches you intensely, takes over jerking his own dick when you lose control of the muscles in your hands.

Thor scoffs, rolling his eyes you pout when his lips leave you.

“C’mon, love,” he murmurs into your inner thigh. “Don’t neglect the man.”

Nearly panting, you wrap your lips around Steve’s cock while Thor continues eating you out.

“Fuck you’re so good at this,” Steve hisses as you start to gag on him, running your tongue on the underside of his cock.

You do your best to smile as one hand moves to play with his balls, eyes screwing shut as you turn all your attention onto your husband’s cock.

“That feel good?” Thor asks, hand around the base of his cock. He grunts when Steve nods, his head thrown back in ecstasy. “C’mon, Stevie. Tell me how good your wife’s mouth feels on your dick.”

Steve swallows what little spit is left in his mouth before trying to remember how to speak. “It f-feels so good,” he’s breathless, chest straining as he tries not to come. “Wet and t-tight, the best thing I’ve ever felt.”

Thor grunts deep in his chest, as if he’s restraining himself. “Keeping going – and tell me when you’re about to cum.”

Steve moans when he hits the back of your throat, both hands now tangled in your hair. “F-feels so good, like she’s sucking the life out of me through my fucking dick- Oh fuck!”

You’re deep throating him now, breathing through your nose as you gag.

“T-Thor,” he moans, voice strained. “I-I think I’m-“

“Stop,” the man at the end of the bed commands as he continues fucking his fingers in and out of you. Reluctantly, you do as you’re told, ceasing all actions and giving Steve the most pitiful look you can muster.

“C’mere pretty girl,” Thor murmurs, leaving one last kiss at the most sensitive part of you. “It’s time for me to fuck you.”

You and Steve both moan deeply as he lifts himself to his feet and aligns himself with your center – hardened cock bobbing against his stomach. The sight is enough to make your center tighten, skin on fire as you wait for him to gift you reprieve.

“Such a perfect little pussy,” Thor mumbles to no one but himself, grinning wide as he enters you.

Little words are exchanged after that, Thor focusing on the feeling of your cunt instead of talking.

“Oh Thor-“ you moan, pulling away from Steve to throw your head back once more. “Oh shit holy-“

Thor just laughs, leaning down so he can kiss you. He places one hand next to your head for balance, the other moving to jerk Steve’s cock for you. His whole body works like a perfectly build machine, hips and hand working in tandem to get all three of you off. His movements are languid and purposeful, as if each muscle contraction and release was planned long, long ago in some expert fashion.

As Steve moans once again that he’s close, you remember what Thor had told you the day previous – that he had done this for other people attempting to build their families. In an instant, you were struck with the fear that this was somehow mechanical for him, something he was doing out of some sense of duty with half his brain focused on what he was going to have for dinner or what fruit was in season – something mundane and minutely distracting so he could phone it in and take the credit when the pregnancy test came back positive.  

Thor notices you’re drifting away, grabs you with one hand and coaxes your eyes to meet his. “Don’t worry about anything, baby,” he tells you, voice low in his chest. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

It’s comforting – you can’t describe why, don’t even understand why; but even if you could, Steve’s begging cuts your train of thought short.

“Fuck please,” his voice is high and desperate, anything left of his precious Captain America façade torn to shreds by the possibility of denial. “Please let me come!”

Thor just shakes his head and smiles, putting him through the same torture as he did before but continuing fucking you – ignoring Steve’s cries as he rubs at your clit.

“Ignore him, baby,” he murmurs to you, “C’mon, focus on how good it’s gonna feel when I make you come.”

That’s all it takes for you to lose yourself, to throw your head back and buck your hips up and scream as loud as your exhausted lung will allow. At the last second before you reach your peak Thor moves away from you to grab the back of Steve’s head, pulling the man into a deep kiss.

“Fuck,” Thor groans against Steve’s lips. “Fuck you’re both so gorgeous I’m, fuck, I’m gonna-“

Thor releases himself inside of you with a deafening shout, moaning into Steve’s mouth as his come spills out of you. You’re speechless, watching them kiss above you while you pant.

For a moment there’s silence – the thick scent of sex and the wet sounds of their mouths and your pussy being the only things that fill the air. The only thing that cuts through it is Thor’s gruff voice instructing Steve to take his place between your legs.

The shuffling is awkward but gives you a minute to breathe, the clouds in your brain clearing with a few seconds of being left alone. Unlike Steve, Thor lays next to you on his side, one hand framing your jaw as he kisses you deeply.

Steve takes a moment to admire Thor’s cum dripping out of your pussy, resisting the urge to kneel down and lay his tongue there and drink it all down.

He swallows what little spit is left in his mouth as he enters you, body trembling as his eyes roll to the back of his head. The feeling of your pussy – though familiar – is sublime; mixed with the feeling of Thor’s cum inside of you makes him want to cry from the overwhelming pleasure.

He doesn’t, though, he somehow gets his brain and cock to reconnect so that he can fuck you despite his entire body screaming. You’re sensitive – if Steve couldn’t read your body language, your screaming moans and eyes screwed shut would tell him. It’s a precious thing to see you in such a feral state, to see you fucked out and desperate and begging to be pushed over the cliff again and again and again. You’re normally a very professional woman – always put together and well-spoken and knowledgeable in any subject necessary.  To see you incoherent, lost to the pleasure – it’s something special Steve is determined to remember for the rest of his days.

“Such a good boy,” Thor tells him when he notices Steve’s concentration fading. “You fuck your wife so well for me,” he turns to you, leaving a kiss at the corner of your panting mouth. “Doesn’t your husband fuck you so good?”

“Y-yes,” you reply after you take a second to process what he’s asking of you. “Steve’s so good at fucking a baby into me, makes me feel so good I, oh!”

Something in Steve snaps as he listens to Thor, elicits something primal that makes him dig his fingers into the pit of your pushed-up knees as he pounds into you without mercy.

“Gonna-“ Steve moans. “Gonna fuck our baby into you, gonna make sure everyone knows how good I fuck you, fuck!”

Thor just smiles all big and toothy, looking between your face and Steve’s. Just as confident as before, he trails the same hand as before between your breasts and down your stomach, rubbing at your sensitive nub once more.

“You can do it, baby,” he whispers to you, coaxing another orgasm out of you with skilled fingers. “You’re so beautiful, I want to watch you come again. You can do that, right? You can come again for me?”

You shake your head, too overwhelmed to form coherent sentences. “I, I- “

“Shh,” he trails his thumb – still soaked with your slick and his precum – “It’s okay, my little dove. You can do it once more for me and Steve. C’mon, you can do it with him, right?”

You don’t speak, don’t move, don’t do anything – too focused on the feeling of Thor next to you and Steve on top of you and Thor rubbing at your clit and Steve fucking your pussy and the warmed sheets between your fingers and the sweat pooling between your breasts and-

“Fuck!” Steve’s screams mirror your own internal monologue. “Fuck I’m-“

Thor uses the thumb that was just under your lip to grab Steve’s jaw, forcing their eyes to meet just as he had done many times before. “Come for me.”

You and Steve’s orgasms come at the same time, the both of you twitching as you fall slowly, deliriously, from the shared delicious high.

When the French coined folie a duex, you’d always assumed it was about some madness that happened to manifest in two people. But what is defined as “madness?” Could it be the sweet satisfaction that flows through each of your veins like gold? Could it be the vacant contentment behind Steve’s eyes? Could it be the vacant content behind yours?

Somehow, Thor maneuvers the two of you so that all three of you can lay there, out of breath and sweaty all over as each of you stares at separate spots on the ceiling.

You’re the one to break the silence, stuck between the two men in the center of the large bed. “Do you think it worked?”

Steve turns towards you, leaning on one arm while the other spreads itself over your stomach. “I think so.”

Thor turns over next, mirroring Steve’s position. Free hand, though, goes to cup your face, pulling you in for a quick peck on the lips before guiding you to Steve for a much deeper kiss.

“I think so, too,” the large man says eventually, watching as you and Steve remain locked together. He doesn’t think either of you can hear him, but he smiles at the softness on both of your faces nonetheless.

[honeydots]

174 for the persona topic of ur choice [big eye emojis]

“I don’t owe you a damn thing”

Summary: A week after the announcement of Akira’s death, a certain Goro Akechi walks into the café, leaving Akira with limited options and an exciting new high. 

- 

(ao3 link)

-

Sojiro left to get cigarettes. 

The café was quiet as usual. Akira tried to eat his curry as slowly as he could, savoring each bite like it was his last. His days were slow now, and tense. Eating was one way to fill up his time. Chew, swallow, repeat. Chew, swallow, don’t think about the yellow bruise on his jaw and how it aches when he bites, repeat. 

Morgana lounged on the counter next to him. Akira would sometimes offer his spoon and let him lick off the remains. It felt normal, and it felt safe. Safe enough that he could take off his stuffy hood in there, confident that there was no one to hide his face from. 

The announcement of his death had been just over a week ago. Thinking about it gave him a high, a tingling buzz in the back of his head. Another way to keep himself entertained during long mornings. He was buffered and bruised, but still up and kicking. It was easy to remember how hard his heart pounded, and how each pulse fueled his ego a bit more. He had been scared out of his mind, and that was just where the thrill lied. 

But the highs would come down and the excitement would leave, and he would be left sitting in a café, laying low and silent. His only job now was to heal and prepare himself for their next battle. Which, as fun as a rush of adrenaline could be, was nice in itself. He could relax a while, switch himself onto a lower setting. 

The door chimed, and Akira figured it must’ve been Sojiro back from his errands. He turned to nod a greeting. But, with a surprised spurt from Morgana he froze in his seat, faced with the walking and talking front of who he was supposed to be hiding from.

Goro Akechi stood at the door frame with a neutral expression as he scanned Leblanc up and down. Jacket done up neatly, gloves pulled on, he looked just as unbothered as he would when he’d made a habit of coming over before November. 

Akira felt every muscle in his body tense. He’d let his guard down and was about to pay for it. His mind was moving a million miles a minute. He wondered if he could escape him. That, or he could go on the offence. Tie up Akechi and gag him, call the thieves and figure something out together. Though that wouldn’t be so easy, especially since he could have a gun on him. The thought gave him goosebumps. 

Akechi looked him in the eyes, and Akira got ready to run. This was it. If he reached for his pockets, Akira could duck down and dodge, shove a chair in his way and run upstairs to the window. If he tried to jump him plain and simple, Akira could strike first, and maybe have Morgana make a swipe at his face. He could do this. He could do this. 

But Akechi did not reach for his gun. Nor did he take a step. In fact, he hardly moved at all, aside from his expression easing into something calm.  

“Ah, good. I was worried you might be sleeping,” he said, instead of,  “This is it, Kurusu! Time to die!” like Akira thought he would. 

Akira stared at him. Had Akechi known he’d be here? Had he known he was alive? He gulped and kept himself tense, trying to steady his breathing. He couldn’t get distracted here— if he missed something it could mean game over. 

“Akechi,” Morgana sneered, his hackles beginning to raise. Akira barely spared him a glance. He idly hoped that at least he’d be able to get out safe. He could alert everyone else. That was, if Futaba wasn’t already listening in on their conversation. 

He could feel Morgana’s animosity from where he sat. Akira knew he was thinking about protecting him, but he wished he wouldn’t. One of them had to get out of here unscathed; everyone was going to be in danger unless they did something. Akira could feel sweat beading on his forehead. 

Akechi, on the other hand, seemed entirely unbothered. Shoulders lax, soft breaths. Akira had to fight feeling assured to his presence. He couldn’t afford to lose himself relaxing into his company. Not now. 

“That’s quite the tone you’re taking with me,” Akechi sighed, shrugging. “Though, I’m not really surprised. I wouldn’t expect most to place their faith in me again.” 

That was a peculiar line. At least it might’ve been. Akira hoped he wasn’t reading too deeply into his actions, but there was something about him right now. He wasn’t acting hostile, or even angry. It wasn’t like he was trusting him, but the whole atmosphere was off. 

Akira felt his phone buzz several times in succession. He assumed that was Futaba. She’d probably picked up on Akechi being in the café. That was a relieving safety net. He couldn’t pick up now, though. His full attention remained on his personal headsman. 

Akechi walked a few steps towards them. Akira maintained a very watchful eye, but didn’t try to make a run for it. His gut told him that this was the best move for now. He adjusted a bit in his seat, staying prepared to jump if he needed to. 

But somehow, he was getting the feeling he wouldn’t. Akechi seemed relieved. Akira didn’t know what to make of it. 

He looked Akira up and down, keeping that easy expression on his face. “At least you’re healing well. Not to say a ragged look isn’t befitting of you.” 

Akira raised his eyebrows. In any other situation, he would’ve cooed back something snarky. But his mind was focused on trying to understand what he’d just meant. The pit in his stomach was diminishing with every word. What was going on? Why was he being so friendly? 

Morgana beat him to asking. He clicked his tongue.

“What’s your game here, you traitor.” 

Akechi’s expression didn’t falter. He hardly missed a beat. “My, is my visit really so unexpected? How peculiar. I presume you did explain to everyone, Akira-kun?” 

No, he had not explained to everyone because Akira, undoubtedly, had no goddamn clue what was going on. This was the first time he had seen him in person since the palace. He hadn’t even tried to communicate with him, lest he get arrested and shot for real this time. There was absolutely no piece of conversation Akira had been able to catch onto. 

But instead of expressing any of that, he said “Yup,” and added, “Morgana’s just a little testy right now,” as an afterthought. 

“Wha—” Morgana stuttered, not hopping on to Akira’s new and very quickly improvised plan of  “well, might as well see where this goes.” If Akechi wasn’t shooting up Leblanc, then what could the harm be? He ignored the dam in the back of his mind keeping back all the certainly harmful ideas.

Akira acted like he didn’t hear Morgana, and tried to adopt a more relaxed pose. He hoped he’d realize, but if he didn’t, that would be okay too. Morgana was easy to play off, and Akira was nothing if not intrigued. 

His phone buzzed again. A little more fanatically. Sorry, Futaba. Right now wouldn’t be the best time to yank it out and explain himself. She’d need to hold on a little longer. 

Akechi grinned, looking satisfied. Akira considered that a big plus in the bullshitting direction.

“I see. Perhaps I’m on edge, too. Though really, with all the hoops I’ve jumped through for you, can you blame me? I’ve done a bit more than lounge around as a café pet.” 

Morgana’s tail shot straight up. “Don’t call me a pet!” 

Akechi chuckled, and Akira smiled a bit. It was very familiar, and Akira had to remember not to sink into the feeling. He tried to keep his head up and ready, since this could still be an elaborate scheme on Akechi’s part, but he’d already missed this. He’d already missed him. It wasn’t going to be easy to fight him again, if it came down to it. 

Akechi leaned down to Akira’s level. Akira, in turn, propped his chin up on his fist. Performative, but natural. It made Akechi’s grin spread wider. 

“I’d like to speak with you privately, if you don’t mind?” Akechi said, syrupy and smooth.

Akira knew one thing for sure. Agreeing to this would be a very, very bad idea. Whatever trick Akechi had up his sleeve was a card none of them had seen before, and one that no one had anticipated. 

But there was something weird going on. There were better and more efficient methods of going out for Akira’s head than this. Akechi didn’t seem like the type to bother with small talk, especially not after he’d already tried to kill him once. His motives were already known, so there was unquestionably something up. 

And Akira couldn’t deny how excited he was getting, either.

“Sure,” he said, earning himself a pointed look from Morgana and another flurry of texts. He ignored them both in favor of his swelling suspicions. He decided he would take this as far as it could go. Who knows, this could save their necks, even. 

Akechi stepped back a bit. “Then lead the way.” 

Akira scooted out of his chair and rolled his shoulders back. Morgana was looking back and forth between them frantically. 

“Wait, what? Where’re you going?” Morgana stammered, his tail now flicking nervously. “You’re gonna go with him? Alone?” 

Akira tried to give him a confident look, that he knew was probably not going to do Morgana any favors. “Watch the café for me.” 

“Huh!?” 

The two of them walked upstairs, leaving Morgana to fend for the café himself. Akira did feel bad, but it wasn’t like he could sit him down and explain his plan (that “plan” being basically nonexistent anyway) with Akechi around. It might be easier to do this on his own, too. Akechi was notoriously difficult to figure out, and he’d need to be on the lookout for any stray hint he could get. 

Akira sat down on the foot of his bed and, to his surprise, Akechi joined him there. They were shoulder to shoulder, though not quite touching. Akechi tended to keep his distance, so if there were any concrete indicators that he was acting up right now, this was one.

Akechi set his briefcase down in front of them. He gave way a long exhale, and Akira could literally watch the tension leave his shoulders. It was nice to see if he was being honest. 

They were silent for a little while. It was almost a nervous quiet, but not in a jarring way. It was light and anticipating. An all around pleasing mood, which made it hard for Akira to stay on his toes. 

“I appreciate you putting up with my antics,” Akechi started, breaking their shared silence. He didn’t meet his eyes. “But you can imagine this hasn’t been the easiest cover up.” 

Akira didn’t reply. He needed to know more before he tried to make a counter. Akechi was smart and observant, and Akira knew that if he slipped up that this could turn sour. Though, that was a sound start. More confirmation that Akechi for whatever reason did not think Akira had died.

He continued. “I didn’t think you’d listen when I asked you to keep from contacting me. Though I’m glad you did, because I think there’s a chance I’ve been hacked.” 

Akira almost flinched, thinking about how that hacking was definitely the work of Futaba. He was surprised Akechi had noticed. Though, he’d probably argue something among the lines of you can never be too thorough, to which Akira would laugh in his face, him being the biggest loose end that had ever escaped his grasp. 

He thought more on the first half of his spiel. Akechi had, allegedly, asked him to do something. He wracked his brain for any memory of a conversation they’d had like that. Akira was prone to hanging on to their interactions. It seemed really unlikely that he would miss something so important. And even while he’d been drugged in the interrogation room, he had been more than aware enough to remember that Akechi had never paid him a visit. The only “Akira” Akechi had seen was his cognitive form. 

That train of thought caught Akira’s attention. His cognitive form?

Akechi carried on undisturbed. “That’s why I didn’t text you before I came, by the way. I’ve been too busy to get it checked out. And your identity being revealed is too big of a risk for the both of us.” 

Akira was hardly listening. He thought he might be onto something. If their plan had gone accordingly, then the last time Akira had seen Akechi was in the palace. But the last time Akechi saw, or thought he saw Akira, was in the interrogation room. 

“I understand that I’m the reason you ended up in that situation, but you know we can use this position to our advantage, don’t you?” 

Which meant, whatever last interaction Akechi remembered he had with Akira was actually with the cognitive form of him in Sae Nijiima’s cognition. 

“We probably share a similar goal now, anyway. Though, don’t think I’m going to change my stance just like that. I have a way I plan to go about things.” 

Akechi should’ve killed that cognitive form of Akira. But there could be a chance that wasn’t the case, no matter how small. And if that was so, then… 

“I am willing to make a sort of compromise with you. But, compromise means both sides are satisfied, so you must also let me have my own leeway.” 

What had the cognitive Akira done with Akechi that Akira didn’t know about?

“...Akira-kun? Are you alright?” 

Akira jolted. He looked at Akechi straight in the eye. What had he been saying? He’d gotten too lost in his own thoughts. 

Akira blinked a couple times. Yes, he was fine. Start there. 

“Uh, yeah,” he said, which only made Akechi look more suspicious. Okay, shit. He needed a reason why he’d been spacing out. “No, I am, it's just… um. It’s nice to see you again, is all.” 

Which wasn’t a lie. He was very happy Akechi was here with him. Nothing had stung more than his betrayal. The idea that they’d found a way to come to an understanding was fantastic. But that was like a single match in a dark tunnel. Figuring out his cognitive form had done something to convince Akechi to (...probably?) not kill him was great; but making this work was going to take more effort than that. 

His reply got more of a reaction out of Akechi than expected. It made him gulp and look down at his hands. 

“Ah, well. Yes, it’s good to see you too. I must say it was a relief to see you had made it out just fine. Not that I expected any less.” 

He was fiddling with his fingers a bit. Akira fixated onto the motion. A nervous habit? Why was he nervous? He’d never really seen him like this before. Which could mean, maybe, his cognitive form had? 

Okay, he was not about to be jealous of a cognition of himself. He didn’t even know what he’d done in there. Jumping to conclusions was the wrong way of going about this. 

He tried thinking about what he’d told Sae-san, but that night had gone by in a haze. He must’ve given off some sort of impression to her that made the cognition figure out a way to dispel Akechi’s attempted murder. Maybe it would be better to think what he might say while on a load of drugs. 

Not... an encouraging thought. He could’ve said almost anything if that was the standard. Had he convinced her that he was a stellar conman? Or, like, a ninja? If he made it out of this interaction alive and well he’d have to give her a call. Maybe it would be a little awkward, but he’d done worse. 

It was still silent between the two of them. Okay, new goal. Akira only needed to last long enough that he could excuse himself to use the phone. The way this was going, he would probably be fine. Akechi mentioned he was busy, so he’d probably be on his way soon anyway. 

Akechi sighed and tucked his arms into himself, making no moves to give up his spot. Akira wondered if he could bring up work or something to get him to go. He felt bad forcing him out, but hurt feelings didn’t matter much when it was his life on the line. Though he looked kind of… delicate (was that the right word? He didn’t know. Less stable than usual, maybe. Not to say he usually gave off emotionally steady vibes) at the moment. Maybe he could make him lunch or something to make up for it. Assuming they’d get that far. 

Before Akira could try and really nicely kick him out, Akechi filled the silence again.

“I know this is presumptuous of me to say, but perhaps have you not picked up on my motive for making myself known to you?” 

How many times could Akira think ah, shit today? Yup, you guessed it Akechi, Akira had absolutely no idea why he had come to Leblanc. He couldn’t exactly just say that. Especially since Akechi seemed almost fragile (was that the right word? Eh.) right now. Like the question had some hidden meaning. He’d always been one for games, but this was a different side to Akechi. 

“What do you mean?” Akira asked, deciding that this was the most ambiguous answer he could give. He leaned forward onto his knees, and it made Akechi tense up. 

He looked away. “Don't get any ideas. I simply need to understand your… stance on the matter, first.” 

His tone was conflicted (was it? Fuck. Words, Akira, find the right ones). And he’d swear up and down his ears were pink. That was new. Not conflicting, though. 

“You wanna tell me yours first, detective?” Akira grinned. Maybe teasing was the way to go. Nothing unnatural about it; he had joked with him all the time before. He hoped his confidence would outshine his being utterly clueless.  

“I’d rather your opinion, actually,” said Akechi, the pink tinting his cheeks now. “Do not tell me I came all this way for nothing.” 

He was as difficult as ever. Not that Akira minded. He wondered how far he could push it. 

“You know, I was pretty drugged up. I might need a little hint, here.” 

Akechi turned and glared at him. “Whatever enjoyment you’re getting out of this isn’t going to last.” 

It had always proved pretty amusing to poke fun at him. Akira really had missed their bits of banter. He still remembered feeling so low whenever he thought about where they’d been headed. Akira was pleased to know he’d been a little right, and a little wrong. Right enough for the thrill, wrong enough for the aftermath. 

“I mean it. I have no idea where we left off,” he said, making his tone something baited. He knew he wouldn’t get away with it, but it was always worth a try. 

Akechi narrowed his eyes further. “You know I don’t trust you.” 

“I don’t trust you either,” Akira replied with a cool head. “Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” 

Akechi smirked. “I don’t owe you a damn thing.” 

Akira sat back up. Had anyone ever gotten anywhere without a little playful prying? “You’re not getting an answer out of me unless I get something to work with.” 

A short moment of silence hung. Akechi must’ve been considering (considering felt close. It was on the tip of his tongue) something. They were staring at each other. Before this, Akira had barely noticed how deeply red Akechi’s eyes were. He could tell something was going on behind them, processing (maybe?), evaluating (he was always doing that, though), thinking. 

“You are the worst kind of tease, you know,” he said. 

And then his lips were on Akira’s. 

Oh. 

(Okay.) 

 Goddamn. 

Akira was the type who prided himself on quick thinking. He could be up on his feet in no time, ready to pounce at a moment's notice. So now, while his mind froze at temperatures below sub zero, his body was more than happy to return the kiss, keeping only his last remaining pieces of competence shining loud and proud. 

Had he expected a kiss? No. Not at all. 

Was he upset about it? Also no. 

They broke apart for a moment, and Akira tried very hard not to let his shock show. When Akechi’s eyes lightly opened, they must’ve been pleased with whatever they saw, because a coy grin spread across his face. And what could’ve been some relief, too. 

“Satisfied, now?” he asked. 

Akira was left with two options (well, not really, but he pretended that was the case): One, was to tell Akechi there must’ve been a misunderstanding and that, boy, he sure was glad Akechi hadn’t murdered him, and just maybe they could work all this out over a cup of coffee. Go downstairs and talk through this, no guns or knives, just two boys and a cat and some curry, too. Hey Akechi, no hard feelings, but not this time around, buddy. 

Or, there was the ever present option two:  

“Not yet,” Akira hummed, and leaned back in for another. 

It was longer, and deeper this time. Akira pushed further, ignoring the adamant pain in his jaw from his bruise. Akechi squirmed underneath him in surprise. They started slow and easy. Akira turned and put one hand on Akechi’s waist. For a moment Akechi’s hands were nowhere, before settling on the back of Akira’s neck, tentative but secure. 

Akira decided that he’d forget about what his cognitive form may or may not have done for now. He was going to keep enjoying this. There was an inkling telling him this was probably his sought after answer, given Akechi’s welcoming reaction. How his cognitive self achieved this would be a mystery forever, but man, what a guy the version of himself in Sae-san’s head was. Atta boy. 

It did occur to Akira that the phone call he’d planned to give her might’ve turned out more

than uncomfortable. A smooch or two with Akechi was a much better method to figuring this out, among other things. He wondered if it would be inappropriate to thank her. Probably. 

He pushed again, but this time was met with some force. They were leaning into each other now, already breathing heavy and taking whatever pauses they could to gasp for breath. Akira slid his hand higher onto Akechi’s side, and with a tug he grabbed a fistful of his jacket to pull him in closer. Akechi’s fingers stayed pressed into the nape of Akira’s neck, but every so often would climb a bit higher towards his hair. 

Akira put one hand on Akechi’s chest and pulled them apart for a moment. Akechi looked confused, and a bit concerned when Akira took the second to massage his jaw with his other hand. But as he applied force onto Akechi, he got the picture and started to lay down, and even loosened his tie. Akira swung his leg over his body, straddling him and earning a quiet, “Oh,” before planting his forearms over Akechi’s head and closing the space between them. 

Akechi’s hands looped around Akira’s arms, and ended up taking their place back in his hair, getting wrapped and tangled in the curls. It was heavier now, and hotter, as they moved in sync and melted deeper into each other. 

Akira had no idea how much time passed. He stayed there in the moment, blissfully at a loss but unarguably having one of the best afternoons he could’ve asked for. 

But then, of course, rang a voice so shrill and so loud, he realized it was possible this hadn’t really been the time.

“HUH!?” 

Morgana sounded completely exasperated. He was standing on the top of the stairs, eyes wide and his mouth hung open. Entirely still. He must’ve gotten worried about Akira having been up here with Akechi for so long without so much as a word. 

The three of them stared at each other in silence. No one made a move. Morgana was obviously processing something he didn’t know how to understand. Akira felt a little nervous to look down and see whatever expression Akechi was making. If murder hadn’t been going through his head before, it surely was now. 

Morgana stumbled. “What’re you— you’re— Akira…?” 

Akira was going to once again try and flex his bullshitting mastery, but instead Akechi very loudly cleared his throat, and lightly shoved Akira back until he could sit upright. 

“I, ah, really should be getting back, anyway,” he said, fixing his tie while Akira finished awkwardly climbing off of him. “I wasn’t joking when I told you I was busy, after all.” 

His voice was stable and clear, but he was flushed pink and refusing to make any sort of eye contact. Akira decided not to comment, at least not while Morgana was still here. His poor cat seemed a little traumatized as it was; he didn’t need to witness any witty flirting. 

That wasn't the finisher, though. No end in sight for Akira’s day of twists and turns. A few moments later none other than Futaba bursted upstairs, out of breath and with a wild look in her eyes. It occurred to him that he shouldn’t have totally ignored her texts. 

“Is everyone still alive!” she shouted, arms wide in front of her. She glanced between the group, and relaxed her pose when she saw the very mundane-looking scene in front of her. Thank god Akira wasn’t on top of Akechi anymore. Morgana seeing was one thing, Futaba was another. He didn’t even want to think about what Sojiro would do if he found out Akira had made Futaba witness teenage hormones at their finest. 

She slumped down and looked at Morgana. “What the heck, Mona,” she sighed, looking a little embarrassed. “What’d you scream for? I got all worried.” 

Morgana tried to justify himself. “Because of them! They were…” he trailed off. He was acting so sheepish. It occurred to Akira he may not actually know the word to describe what he’d just witnessed. He almost snorted, but had enough tact to realize that wouldn’t be so proper at the moment. He could laugh about it later. 

“‘They were’ what?” Futaba asked, turning and leering at the pair. Akechi was flattening his hair a little, and Akira was trying to remain as stone faced as possible. She scowled.

Akira felt like he could see the gears turning in her head, which was a bad sign. More of an awkward sign, really, because Akira didn’t actually care much if they knew. He was gonna tell them a slightly modified version of the story after he’d finished, anyway. 

Akechi, on the other hand, seemed like he absolutely would mind if this all unfurled in front of him. He stood up just a little too quickly to be casual, and straightened his jacket. 

“I’d ought to go now, then. Thank you for having me,” he said, adjusting his gloves. He picked up his briefcase and made his way for the exit, fast paced and wide steps. Akira watched him with entertainment, and Futaba’s eyes followed him every step of the way. 

He stopped in front of the staircase, and waited there for a moment. Akira wondered what he was gonna do. His mind worked in very particular ways, and Akira was surely interested in such a flustered (hm. Maybe that was it) version. 

He turned back and faced him head on. “I’ll come again. I’d argue that didn’t quite serve as a suitable answer.” 

Futaba’s eyes darted between them. “What do you mean ‘answer,’” she said, furrowing her eyebrows a little more as she tried harder to connect the dots. 

Akira nodded in reply, and Akechi smiled something sweet, but just about devious, too. He walked out of view without another word, and the room was silent until the chime of the door opening and closing signaled his exit. 

Futaba did not waste a second. She zipped over to Akira, followed closely behind by Morgana, who leapt onto the bed. 

Futaba squatted down. “Okay, Akira. First of all, what. And then second of all, hey, what.”

Akira wasn’t exactly sure what to reply. Hot damn, while appropriate, would probably not exactly satisfy Futaba. More than anything he’d probably gross her out. And spark a million more questions. 

She must’ve been confused for a number of reasons, very much like Morgana, and like himself too. Ultimately, yeah, he had no idea why he’d just had a passionate make out session with Goro fucking Akechi, of all people. He admitted that it did go swimmingly, though. And he obviously wouldn’t say no to a round two. Or three. Honestly, why limit himself by putting a number on it. 

This was an unexpected turn of events, for sure, but definitely an advantageous one. Genuinely and acutely having Akechi on their side was not a problem at all. And occasionally steaming it up on his bed was, more than anything, an improvement to their previous relationship. Akira couldn't say he minded one bit. 

It was dangerous, too. He needed to give Sae-san a call still, no matter how weird it might turn out. And he had to let everyone else know that, for whatever reason, Akechi was willing to work with them, to at least some sort of extent. That Akechi was pretty mellow right now, and did not think for a second he’d gone through with the murder. 

Akira had to be doubtful of him. He didn’t have a choice in that. But he decided it was more than worth seeing where this would take him. Not to mention way more fun. 

Futaba sat staring at him with beady eyes from the floor. Morgana looked no less shaken than before, but was waiting impatiently for Akira’s answer, too. 

There was really no use lying. 

“Well,” Akira started, shrugging his shoulders and feeling just a bit greedy. “I think I have a boyfriend now.” 

[dionysuscrysis]

Hello, @invader-zim-week​ ... How about some fluff? And by fluff, I mean angst...

The frantic pounding on Gaz’s door was pretty standard for 11 P.M. on a weeknight. In fact, Gaz had learned how to predict the nature of Dib’s impromptu visits based on knock quality alone. She knew the loud, regular set of knocks that meant Dib intended to rant about whatever dastardly scheme his dumb cat had most recently attempted. She also recognized the faster, lighter pattern that signaled Dib was about to try to rope her into a countermeasure against one of those plans.

Tonight’s door-shaking knocking was in a league of its own. Gaz went so far as to pause her platformer to deal with it.

As soon as the door unlatched, Dib threw it open, nearly falling into the apartment with his momentum. 

“GAZ!” Dib’s voiced cracked. “Where’s Gretchen?”

Before now, Gaz wasn’t sure Dib even knew she had a roommate, much less that roommate’s name. Before she could make a snide comment about it, she noticed the wadded coat in the crook of Dib’s arm, and the limp, unmistakably green tail that drooped from it.

She stood aside and gestured for Dib to enter.

“Not on my...” 

But it was too late. Dib had already deposited his bundle onto her couch. He sank to his knees in front of it and began unfolding his coat.

The door to Gretchen’s bedroom creaked open down the hall. “What’s going on out here? Is everything OK?”

Dib twisted to see her, and Gaz got a better look at his pale, sweat-slick face. “Gretchen! I need your help!”

“Dib? Um... OK? What exactly...” Gretchen - sleepy-eyed and decked out in her finest button-up PJs - froze as she entered the living room. “Oh my gosh...”

Zim looked even smaller than usual within the black sea of Dib’s jacket. His fur stood at odd angles, bunched and sticky in places with darkening blood. His eyes were closed, and if not for the rapid pulsing of his ribs, Gaz would have taken him for roadkill.

Her stomach churned. “What did you do.”

Dib turned toward Gaz. “I didn’t do anything, I swear. I... I couldn’t do something like this. He’s EVIL, but he’s not... He’s just a...”

Gretchen pushed her way past Dib, taking his place in front of the couch with a mumbled apology. Her hands hovered over Zim’s body as she assessed him.

“I need the first-aid kit from the hall closet,” she said. “Um. Please.”

“Start explaining, Dib,” Gaz instructed as she fetched the kit.

“I don’t really know what happened,” Dib said. “Zim didn’t come home this morning... I knew he was up to something. His tracker pinged at Dad’s lab, where I know he’s been stealing stuff. Dad insists he would know if Zim were breaking in, but he doesn’t even believe me about-”

“What happened, Dib?” Gaz’s question came out more like a threat as she handed the box of supplies to Gretchen.

“I’m getting there...” Dib paused, watching as Gretchen donned a pair of medical gloves and began carefully smoothing Zim’s tattered pelt, searching for the source of the blood. “Like I said, I don’t know what exactly went down, but I tracked Zim into the lab’s parking lot. He was... I thought maybe he was hit by a car...”

Gaz crossed her arms, scrutinizing her brother’s face. Ever since Dad had given him his little reject science experiment, Dib had appointed himself as the defender of humanity. He was convinced that Zim and the other cybernetically-enhanced creatures Dad was manufacturing were bent on world domination. And sure, maybe Zim was, but Zim was all of nine pounds soaking wet, and despite possessing hyper-intelligence and a multitude of tools built into his PAK, somehow always failed in his efforts to make mischief. 

“He was hiding under a truck. I had to pull him out. I was scared he was...”

Gaz blinked, surprised by what Dib was admitting to.

Gretchen broke the silence. “These are puncture wounds... All pretty shallow, fortunately. They look like bite marks.”

Dib’s brows furrowed. “What? Zim has access to actual lasers. There’s no way he got jumped by a stray or something. He’s a tiny, awful little gremlin, but he’s not helpless.”

Gretchen shifted uncomfortably and fidgeted with a bandage spool. “Maybe he didn’t fight back.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Dib said. “Zim’s favorite thing in the world is picking fights.”

Gaz hardened her expression. She saw where this was going. How could her conspiracy-theorist sibling miss it?

“Before I quit the lab, Professor Membrane was training those two PAKked dogs... I assume they’re still there...?” Gretchen chewed her lip as she dressed Zim’s wounds, pointedly avoiding Dib’s gaze.

“Red and Purple? Of course they’re still there. Those two monsters are the masterminds behind the PAK uprising,” Dib scoffed. “Zim basically worships them! You’re not implying that they’d...”

He stopped, his focus drifting toward Zim’s body. The cat’s breathing had steadied, but his eyes remained closed.

Gretchen cleared her throat. “It’s just a thought, really. And I know it’s none of my business.”

Gaz inclined her head toward Zim. “Is he going to be OK?”

“I’ve covered the worst of the bites and the PAK is stabilizing him. I think he’ll be alright. Normally, I’d tell you to take him to the lab just in case, but maybe in this circumstance...”

When Dib didn’t respond, Gaz rolled her eyes and stepped in.

“Thanks, Gretchen. You have class in the morning, right? Go back to sleep.”

Gretchen glanced between the Membrane siblings. “You sure?”

Gaz nodded.

Gretchen stood and awkwardly straightened the buttons on her colorful pajama top. “OK. I’ll be in my room if you need me. Um. Obviously. OK. Goodnight.”

“So you’re staying here tonight, then?” Gaz asked Dib as Gretchen’s door closed behind her.

Dib grunted in the affirmative, his eyes still fixed on Zim. 

Gaz chucked a throw pillow and a spare blanket at her brother. “If he ruins my couch, you’re paying for it.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Gaz headed for the hall, but stopped to look at Dib one last time. “Hey.”

Dib tore his attention away from his unconscious nemesis. “What?”

“I’m glad you found him.”

Dib sighed. “Yeah. Me too.”

[shiftytracts]

Stop Wanting More, part 2 of 2 (T/M/A fic)

In which season-four Jon tries to quiet his hunger for live statements by gorging himself on paper ones, and Daisy tells him what she used to do when she got shaky between hunts. Part one here.

Content warnings for this half:

Nausea, and brief descriptions of prior vomiting

Vague discussion of Daisy’s passive suicidality

Animal cruelty and death: Daisy talks about hunting rats for sport

—

“Statement of Alice ‘Daisy’ Tonner, regarding—”

“Shhhh! You’ll wake the tape recorder.” Her hand clapped over his mouth so hard his teeth buzzed like mugs in a cupboard. He did his best to say Ouch. The salt on her palm made his inner lips itch. Daisy sighed: “Too late; I can hear it hissing.”

At once the cushions began to lurch again, and his stomach contents with them. On her way past him off the couch Daisy managed both to step on his trouser leg and elbow him in the sacrum. Chills curled up in the shadows of heat she’d left on his forehead, stomach, legs. Her way back into her prior position went smoother, though. She even remembered how tightly to press his belly with hers. Why did returned warmth always make him shiver?

“Alright—skip the spiel. Just Ask.”

“What did you used to do when—” Daisy cut him off with a hollow laugh, which Jon seconded. As soon as he’d begun to speak the tape recorder clicked back on, as he’d suspected it would.

“Whatever; just do it.”

“You won’t be too self-conscious?”

She shrugged. “Won’t matter; I’ll be compelled.”

Jon bit down the wave of remorse and resentment her words stirred inside him. She’d agreed to this—cajoled him into it, even. He could examine those feelings later, when she’d gone to bed. When he was alone, and warm, and.

Unbidden into his head came the passage from Tristram Shandy about the “beds of justice.” He’d never read it before, having got through hardly ten pages of that book, and wondered now for half a second how Beholding could have thought this would help, until there thundered across his mind the words, I write one half full,—and t’other fasting;—or write it all full,—and correct it fasting;—or write it fasting; and Jon swallowed, as if that would make it stop. Less than a second later he could feel his stomach trying to expand around it.

Last week he’d tried reading an encyclopedia—vore-ing it, cover to cover. No good; he quit a third of the way in, when it bored him so much he caught himself fantasizing about its giving him a paper cut he’d have to get up to attend to. Eating fear-free trivia was like trying to fill up on tic tacs. Only when stuffed could he even feel it going down.

He told himself if he didn’t Ask her for her story now he’d only spoil his dinner with more useless facts.

“What did you used to do when you got shaky between hunts?”

“I hunted rats around my flat,” Daisy said at once, in the expressionless way of compulsion. In a voice more like her own, she went on, “Not inside, not at first, just—around the dumpsters. First my building’s, and then some nights the whole block. However long it took before I got too slow to enjoy chasing.

“Then one night I thought I saw one dart past in the corridor. So I left out bait for it, half hoping it’d attract more rats into the building. It worked; I found three in there that week.”

“What do you mean bait?”

Again her first sentence emerged as though she were reading it off a list. “Leftovers, mostly. Wasn’t hard—I didn’t have much appetite for” (in one-handed air quotes, with a huff of laughter) “'people food,’ anyway. I’d just make sure to leave a few bites unfinished, and stick them under the mat at the top of the stairs. Sandwich crusts usually, nothing gross. When I got Chinese takeaway I’d use the cabbage they put in the box.”

To make air quotes Daisy’d had to fish her hand out from under the blanket. Now she returned it to its slot on the side of his gut where hip gave way to bloat. Jon almost wished she hadn’t; he feared the reminder might weigh him down. He felt giddy and light, like if he stood and walked, hell, ran, it might not hurt his legs and chest. Like if he flapped his hands instead of wringing them he’d bump the ceiling. For Daisy to comfort his body he’d have to remember he had one.

“How did you catch them? It does—uh.” Whichever Watcher department took charge of compulsion seemed to know his question ended here, because Daisy responded before Jon could finish his follow-up sentence. (It doesn’t sound like you laid traps, he’d meant to say.)

“By the tail. I ran after them and stepped on their tails and then.” She paused for an entire second and closed her eyes tight, but by the time Jon realized what this meant she’d already concluded: “I snapped their spines with my shoe.”

That was all she said, but not all he learnt about it. The Eye let him—made him hear the crunch. For an instant it shared with him the satisfaction Daisy’d felt at the finality of that sound. It had been a sore spot for her, a then-recent wound, how many monsters didn’t die when you broke their necks.

Then her satisfaction left him, and he felt intensely sick.

“Stop—don’t say any more—I’m sorry Daisy, I didn’t—”

She snarled a sigh. “Yeah, I know. Guess I should’ve told you not to ask about that part.”

“Oh. No, it’s. I'm alright, I just meant, it looked like you… didn’t want to tell me that.”

“No I didn’t,” Daisy concurred, in a tone so flat he wondered whether he’d somehow compelled it.

“Is there anything else you don’t—er. What other questions about this would you prefer I didn’t ask.”

She shrugged. “Everything else is fair game.”

“Okay,” Jon said, wishing that answer reassured him more. “You don’t—need a minute, or?”

Again she shrugged. “Yeah, alright. You look like you might, anyway. How’s your gut feeling.”

It took him a moment to realize she meant his actual gut, not like. When he did he answered without thinking: “Not bad? Ignorable, mostly, but. That in itself is.” He looked down at his fingertips for some loose skin to peel. “I’m… stronger, now, already, my. My limbs feel like.”

Daisy nodded. “Like they could carry you without having to think about it.”

“Quite,” Jon agreed, though he wished as soon as the word left his mouth that he’d picked a different one. Something that sounded less like he wanted to talk about the phenomenon’s downside, its sinister implications. He very much did not.

“The rats, did you… eat them?”

“Ew, Jon,” she replied, like it was obvious. “Not literally, no. Didn’t have to. You don’t literally eat statements either, yeah? I just killed them and it… fed me.”

“But didn’t satisfy you,” Jon suggested.

“No. They didn’t make me less hungry, just made it easier to sleep. And they made my belly swell up like yours.” (She patted his; he huffed in pretended offense.) “That’s why I only did it after I’d gone home for the night: it made me slow. I’d know I’d had enough to go to bed when I couldn’t run after them anymore. When I tried to go without—I couldn’t keep my eyes closed. Soon as I stopped thinking about it, they’d fly open. Or at least, it never felt like I slept. Guess I must’ve done, though, ‘cause sometimes I’d find myself chewing on the bedding.” Daisy shook her head, with a sigh interpretable also as a laugh. “Think I’ve started doing that again. I keep finding holes in Basira’s sleeping bag.”

“Not yours, though?” Jon knew she and Basira slept with the edges of their two sleeping bags zipped together. (A frankenbag, Daisy called it.)

Daisy grinned: “No. Hers is a better texture.”

“Thought you said you didn’t remember doing it.”

“I don’t, but mine looks like it’d be grosser to have in your mouth.”

In reality, Jon had never seen her sleeping bag up close, but now Beholding showed him what it looked like. Once kelly green but now faded grayish, like a pond; the fabric was all over pills. It smelled like wood smoke, Ritz crackers, and the lone sock one finds at the bottom of every suitcase.

“That’s fair,” Jon allowed, hoping the strain in his voice would sound to her like a laugh. Somehow this piece of information, about the godforsaken sleeping bag, had brought his stomachache back way above the “ignorable” waterline. The nauseating smell, maybe? He tried to steady himself with a deep breath, but, well.

“You look sick.”

“Was it that obvious?”

“You’re not subtle, Jon,” she scoffed; “you gasp and writhe.”

Jon tried to shrug, tried to laugh. “I’m fine. It’s just… a lot. I’m alright, I’ve just never.” What, been this full? Compelled an eldritch snack after having already eaten his weight in paper? As if that weren’t obvious. He drew in breath to speak, but still hadn’t thought of an end to his sentence. Then he felt Daisy’s hands—both of them—start to dig shallow trenches, one up each of his sick sides. His breath came out in a shaky sigh.

“That help?”

“Yeah.”

Each time they reached his ribs—or, in the left side’s case, the place where his ninth and tenth ribs used to be—her hands turned back, in a slight arc so that they made narrow ovals, each a little closer to his stomach’s center than the last. Until they met in the middle, then worked their way slowly back out to his sides.

“Could you… keep doing that while I hear the rest of your.”

Her laugh had an edge to it that miiiight have been contempt? But she said, “Sure. What do you still want to know?”

“Uh.” He pretended to have to think about it. “Why don’t you hunt rats now?”

“I don’t want to kill things just because they’re weaker than me.” Daisy’s hands had frozen in place while she spoke these words; now they resumed. She sighed, but Jon wasn’t sure at what. “Rats are fine, they don’t need to die.”

“I wouldn’t say they’re fine,” Jon scoffed; “pretty sure they serve the Corruption. They spread hantavirus, ratbite fever, lymphocytic”—he paused to swallow a wave of nausea, hoping it was the ugliness of these facts and not their sheer bulk that sickened him. He hoped also that she’d assume his voice had caught on the pronunciation, rather than. He cleared his throat and continued: “Lymphocytic choriomeningitis, and leptospirosis. And the plague, of course, though not without help from.”

Daisy groaned, her teeth bared to the canines. Jon could feel her fingers curl into fists, though thankfully none of his skin got trapped between her nails and palms. “That’s exactly the kind of judgment I’m trying not to make anymore. They’re—they’re also good, okay? Rats. Had a friend with a rat once, when I was a kid.” For an instant Jon wondered if she meant Calvin Benchley. Then the Eye told him she did. “You can teach them tricks. Like dogs. His knew how to fetch, roll over, go through mazes to find treats. And they’re affectionate, friendly. The tails are weird, but—they have sweet eyes.”

A huff of laughter tumbled out of Jon’s nose. “All animals have sweet eyes. That’s a pretty low bar.”

“Don't flatter yourself.”

The Ceaseless Watcher seemed to side with her on this, showing him the eyes of lemurs, flies, goats, anglerfish (the regular kind).

“Either way, I hardly think that outweighs the plague.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Daisy insisted, still sounding querulous. She’d retracted her hands now, and held them balled together close to her chest—like Jon himself did when he felt too shy to stim outright. If they hadn’t been talking about rats the attitude probably wouldn’t’ve struck him as rat-like, but.

“It doesn’t always need to matter which one of those things is more important,” she went on. “It feels like it does, but—sometimes that’s just a habit we get into. Some things just are, okay? I like not having to think about it anymore.”

“Right, that makes sense, we can….”

“Besides. I didn’t care about any of that when I was hunting them. The diseases or whether they’re part of the Filth or whatever. I just knew they were gross, and that people were scared of them. That’s the main reason I killed monsters, too.”

“What if you just… caught them and let them go?”

“Monsters?”

“No, rats.”

“I don’t want a substitute, Jon. I’m alright going cold turkey.”

“But it’s not cold turkey, it’s—no turkey.”

Daisy looked at him for the first time in what felt like a while, and smiled, but furrowed her eyebrows. “Just what do you think ‘cold turkey’ means?”

“I know there’s no actual turkey,” Jon sighed, trying to ignore the Eye’s barrage of suggestions for where the phrase might have originated. God, his stomach hurt. He missed having her hands there to rub away some of this nausea and ache. Wondered what he could say to bring them back. Doing it himself at a time like this would’ve felt so. “I just mean, withdrawal is���different. It can kill you, but you’re still abstaining from something that people in general don’t need to live.”

“Aaaand you think people in general need the Hunt.”

“Of course not. I know you know what I’m getting at,” Jon persisted. “You’re talking about starvation—which, unless for some reason the Fears are too sentimental to throw their old husks away, means it will kill you. Not just—‘can.’”

“Maybe. Probably, yeah. If some monster doesn’t come around to kick me off the wagon first. I’ve told you that before, though.”

“…Okay. Yes, you have, that’s. Yes. So then—?”

“What?”

“Why are you giving me a statement!?”

“To commiserate,” Daisy recited first, in the flat tone of compulsion—and then, “Shhh!”

“Tape recorder’s already on.”

“Yeah but Basira’s out there; she might—be asleep. It’s not a statement,” said Daisy. “Just a story.”

As usual Jon let himself fall into the trap. Was it a statement? By Institute standards, maybe not; he wasn’t sure it counted as a supernatural encounter, except from the rats’ perspective. And most of the fear in it was the rats’, too. He supposed you could call it an encounter with her own changing nature? Statement of Alice ‘Daisy’ Tonner, regarding her supernatural hunger and how she.

“But why would you feed me a story when the answer you come to at the end of it is that it’s better to starve?”

This time he didn’t mean to compel her—was sure he’d phrased it indirectly enough not to. But Jon was surer yet Daisy wouldn’t have given the answer she did except under compulsion:

“Because I felt sorry for you.” Then she winced, bared her teeth, shook her head; Jon wondered if she’d felt that one. It seemed like people usually didn’t—just heard themselves speak words they hadn’t meant to, and surmised what had happened from that. But maybe after so many in a row she’d begun to feel the static.

“For what? Why?”

“For feeling evil. Because it reminded me of me.” In her own voice: “Think maybe I wanted it off my chest, too.”

So, what? The moral high ground was alright for her, but he was too weak for it? Or, or not, what, spiritually advanced enough to walk that plane? Because he hadn’t been conscious for his six-month limbo between life and death, like she’d been in the coffin?

“But you resist, so—? Why wouldn’t you think I should starve too?” On the ocean floor of his stomach something evil emerged from its hole. “Hhh—wait, don’t answer that, I’m—”

Too late. “Because eating the statements doesn’t hurt anything. The ones already written down—just recording them, it’s harmless. And you can’t give me bad dreams anymore, so—ugh.” Jon opened his eyes to find Daisy clawing at her temples. She shook her head, to the extent she could without knocking into his. “I told you I'm trying not to do that anymore.”

I’m not ready, Jon had meant to say. But seeing how little she liked having answered, he wished he could claim it was for her sake he’d tried to stop her.

He still wasn’t ready to hear or think or talk about this, really. The top half of his belly seared with such pain he couldn’t think straight; lower down it squirmed. He felt perilously sick. His whole body wanted so badly to curl into a ball that his legs wouldn’t quit twitching against Daisy’s. He pressed his elbows into his sides, while his hands hovered, pathetically he was sure, just over the top and center of a stomach he feared would pounce if he dared touch it.

But he felt like owed her some proof he’d been listening. “Do…?”

“Judge people. Decide what’s right for them.”

“I see,” Jon lied; that was all he could manage for now. In truth he needed a break before he could even parse what she had said.

“Turns out I can’t lie to myself under compulsion either. I didn’t think that was the reason?—thought I was just not judging you.”

“I think”—he pushed himself back from her, sure for a second that he was about to be sick. It passed, but his breath caught on it as on panic, so he couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened.

Especially not since Daisy too shot upright, her nails loudly scraping the cushion behind her as she hurled herself against it. “Shit—turn around—not on the couch—”

“I’m okay, it’s.” He did turn around, just to ease her mind, but the motion required had quite the opposite effect on him. Jon heard the sounds of ragged breath and whimpering, then recognized his own voice behind them.

Daisy’s hands came to perch one on the back of his shoulder, the other on his side between rib and pelvis. “Don’t worry about it, just get it out. We’ll clean it up later—just like last time, remember?” The fingertips of the hand on his side twitched back and forth at his stomach’s very outer edge.

“N—o, I.” He swallowed. “I think I’m alright.” Tried opening his eyes. Nope, not ready. His breath shuddered again. Daisy’s hands vanished from his shoulder and side; he heard the flapping sound of a blanket being shaken out, then felt it flutter and settle on top of him. Must’ve got dislodged when he rolled over, though he was warm enough now he hadn’t noticed. Dimly he recognized this as a victory.

Her hand moved to stroke his back; she kept saying Shhh, but not in the harsh way she had earlier. “You, uh.” Again Jon swallowed, though what ailed him was a lack of spit rather than excess of it. “You weren’t nearly this nice last time.”

“What?” The hand on his back stilled. “I was too! I tied your hair back for you! I let you ruin my jumper by wiping your pukey mouth on it! I sat with you, on the cold hard floor, in front of the toilet, and let you babble all your egghead theories to me about vomit and the Corruption, even though I’d been sick not two days before, and could barely stand the smell even without you philosophizing about it—”

“No, I meant—the time before, when you. Never mind.”

“Oh—when I had to clean it up?” Jon nodded, hoping she’d be able to tell that from the back of his head. “Yeah, well. Guess I like you better now.”

“Can’t imagine why.”

“Me neither.” And yet she scooted closer to him, hooking her chin over his shoulder. Her hand came to rest on his belly again, its heel in the hollow at the edge of his pelvis. “This okay? You alright with touch right now?”

In response Jon felt around for her hand. When he found it he slotted his fingers between hers, pulled her hand to a sicker-feeling place a few inches higher up, and left his there on top of it.

“Right,” Daisy laughed—“my mistake.” She dragged their combined hands very gently back and forth across the place he’d brought them to. “This where you’re feeling yuckiest?”

His breath caught again, but with surprise and relief this time. With his free hand Jon covered his eyes, willing himself not to think about how ridiculous he must seem to her right now. “That’s, er. That’s perfect, yes.”

“Sure.”

“Though actually—do you think—maybe a slightly… longer stroke?”

Again she laughed. Her hand went limp under his. “Backseat driver. Alright, show me how it’s done.”

It took him a minute to determine that himself. He tried pulling her hand back and forth past his navel, but that grated against something sharp inside. Supposed he couldn’t consult the Oracle for this. Up and down, maybe? Yes, that would do. Or a circle perhaps. Anti-clock—? No, clockwise, definitely. Much better.

Once they’d got that sorted out, Jon said, “I wonder if… you’d let me Ask. One more question.”

“Seriously? I can feel how stuffed you are; how could you possibly want more? Five minutes ago you nearly puked.”

“I’m just—curious, alright? I won’t be sick, I promise.”

“Fine.”

“Did you ever… throw them up?”

“I didn’t eat them, Jon. Told you that already.”

“Alright, poor choice of words. Did you ever—” he tried to think how best to phrase it. “When you threw up regular… people food. Did something of the rats ever come up with it?”

“Yeah. I only got sick once in the time I was doing it, but, I think so, yeah. Thought I was just really out of it at the time though. They didn’t make me sick, I don’t think—just another stomach bug, like the one I gave you. One of those bugs where everything has to come out? And it came on me in the middle of the night, so the last thing I’d”—a pause to sigh; her hand slipped out of his, presumably to make air quotes, but then took it again before he could think of somewhere else to put it—“‘eaten’ was the rats. Not as many as usual; I was already feeling slow that evening. But, yeah. They… it wasn’t their actual bodies, though, okay? I thought I was just dry heaving at first—you know when you’re hanging over the toilet bowl because you know you’re gonna be sick—”

Jon squirmed, fighting a temptation to cover his ears. “Yes, thank you, I’m familiar with—”

“—but you can’t get anything solid up yet, you just retch and drool and cough into the bowl. Well it started then, and then, some of it got mixed up with my sandwich. It was like I… felt their fear, like I—became them, for a second. Each one of them.”

She’d been right; it was too much. God, please don’t make him be the rat! Jon bit his lip ducked his head to his chest curled his toes bent his knees, anything, trying to barricade the doors against the onslaught of information. He pressed his and Daisy’s combined hands hard into the place where his stomach jutted forth from ribs for fear if he didn’t try to equalize the pressure inside from without he might burst like a sheep in clover and flood this whole room in half-ruminated text, a cloud of serifed letters scuttling heinously all over himself and Daisy like half-formed spiders.

“I don’t know how I knew that’s what it was,” Daisy went on. “It wasn’t like I saw the scene again, or heard the crunch, or felt the. Anything like that. I just—was the rat. I was prey. Just for a second. And knew that I—me, as in.” Again her hand slipped out of his. “The Hunter, was about to kill me. And… then it faded and I was me again until the next one.”

Her hand returned to the dome at the top of his gut where he’d last set it, but its ghosts on his palm and between his fingers remained cold. She brushed the hand up and down his belly, airily—oblivious to how its muscles clenched and undulated. Jon panted and forced himself to focus on her hand and nothing else. How it bumped and shuddered when his stomach’s shape morphed under it. How at the end of his every exhale her touch became so light it tickled. This was the present Daisy, and the present Jon. Here on this couch in the Institute basement. Both thin, her bony ilium pressed closer to his sacroiliac joint than was quite comfortable. Warm, except up one leg where the blanket let in a draft.

The one who’d tried to prey on him was long gone. If anything he was the one feeding on her, now. And they just laid on the couch together, massaging her horrors into more comfortable shapes inside him.

“That enough?”

Jon grunted an incredulous huff. “Too much,” he admitted, unable to keep the strain out of his voice. “You were right—I, uh. Didn’t know stomachaches came this size.”

Her laugh sounded affectionate. The lines up and down his stomach morphed into circles around it. “Ha—look how much higher your belly comes up on this side. That must be where your ribs were.”

“Yes, I’ve. Noticed that before, thanks.”

“Think you’ll keep it all down?”

“Hope so.”

“Good luck. Wouldn’t want you to have to relive the rats again.”

Oh, god.

“The less said about it the—better I’ll feel, I think.”

“Well that’s a change,” Daisy mused, patting his stomach as though in summation. “I should get to bed. Be alright on your own?”

“Er.” No, no, no, god please no, not alone yet with all these? “Yes, alright. I should be fine.”

She laughed again. “I’ll stay til you fall asleep.”

--

(For Daisy’s take on “the time before,” when she had to clean up his vomit, see Abyss of Possibilities; to view the drawing in less-bad resolution, see this post)

[calitraditionalism]

Arc Three: Chapter Eight

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Mistface was grateful when the sky started to turn orange in the north. There were more clouds on the horizon, but in this brief holiday from wet weather, his fur had dried and the implication of sunlight arriving already warmed him up considerably.

Nothing had come their way so far, save a doe and her fawn, who peered curiously at the fluffy grey creature before stumbling through the mud and grass after his mother. The Runagate had vanished hours ago, leaving Mistface alone to gaze out at the valley and ponder if the deer were just as much victims of StarClan as the cats were.

At last, though, someone did shift in the grass. Mistface didn’t look at them, though his ear did turn towards the sound. He watched the stars fade out, one by one, until the cat started sniffing and walked up to his side.

“Nothing after us, I hope?” said Darkpelt.

Mistface made an ambiguously toned noise. “Leaders must’ve made it to the Clast by now. But they ain’t here yet, no.”

“Anyone else?” He didn’t have to look to know Darkpelt was giving him a very pointed, yet friendly stare. “Because I thought I heard talking before I fell asleep. You haven’t sold us out, have you?”

Mistface didn’t bite. He merely lowered his gaze a little. “Runagate visited.”

“Get outta here.” A grin in Darkpelt’s voice.

“Serious.” Mistface glanced at her – yes, she was grinning, and her eyes were even wider than usual. “Fella’s real tired. Hopeful, though, that somethin’ can be done about… all this.” He contemplated the sky again. “I still don’t know what to think, but that one showin’ up and talkin’ to me one-on-one leans me towards ‘Greyleaf isn’t insane’. Thank the st- the Aspects.”

“He never was.” Darkpelt sat down beside him. “Neither was Redheart. Like I said, this is too insane to be real and yet too sensible to just be made up on the spot. If the Runagate talked to you, then I’m willing to believe it all.”

Mistface hummed. There was silence for a moment, before Darkpelt spoke again.

“Well, my lad, what do you plan to do now?” Her grin faded into a thinner smile. “You going to run and tattle to the leaders? Flee the Territory?”

As usual, the answer was obvious. Mistface smiled a little thinly himself. “Wherever my brother goes, I’m goin’. If he wants to do somethin’ about that monster, I’ll be happy to help.”

“Good.” Darkpelt fully beamed. “That’s the right answer. I’m sticking around, too.”

Mistface gave her a sidelong look, slightly amused. “The leaders’ll be right ticked with you.”

“That’s their problem.” Darkpelt stood up and stretched. “Now, what’s the time?”

“Right about dawn. Little earlier. Sun ain’t out yet.”

“That’s enough time for you to get some sleep yourself, methinks.” Darkpelt winked. “Don’t worry, I’ll take watch, and I’m very good at it.”

Mistface opened his mouth to make the immediate obvious response about her sight, but it occurred to him an instant later that she wasn’t going to have any trouble hearing something coming. He simply got up with a muttered “thanks”, walked to where his brother was curled up, and laid down beside him.

He could barely get a good look at Darkpelt sitting back down with her tail curling before his eyes shut on their own and he felt himself slip away into sleep. He, thankfully, dreamed of nothing.

He woke up last of everyone else in the morning to silence. No one spoke to each other. Prey was caught (and none of them had white marks) and eaten without a single comment from anyone. Mistface observed that they weren’t even looking at each other – everyone’s eyes were on the ground or on their prey, chewing slowly with a nauseous expression.

Alright, he thought. Up to me.

“So,” he said, and all eyes jerked to him. “Runagate stopped by.”

Greyleaf stared. “You saw them?”

“Talked with ‘em, actually.” Mistface internally smiled at the shock on everyone’s faces. He recounted the conversation in its entirety to a stunned audience, concluding with, “So I don’t know what y’all plan to do, but I’m thinkin’ I should help you two-“ he turned to Greyleaf and Redheart “-with whatever action you decide on.”

Redheart blinked and nodded gratefully at him. Greyleaf gave him a genuine, if exhausted, smile.

Flyfang looked somewhere towards the south. “I was thinking of grabbing my sisters early and running as far as we can go, honestly. But…” She looked around the group. “I’m sure I’m not alone on that.”

“I’d love to get all of Hillock out of the Territory,” Littlepaw said quietly. “I don’t think they’d believe me, but I have to try, at least.”

“It would be nice to get everyone out,” Laurelclaw said, anxiously shuffling, “but I was thinking about it earlier – even if we got the entire Clan away from here, what if it follows us? What if it can move along with the Clan?”

Redheart sighed. “The plan was to scatter the Clan’s members in all directions so that, in case it is able to follow, it has so little food in one area that it’d get hungry and move on somewhere else. Then we would ideally get to return here.”

“Oh…” Littlepaw’s eyes were wide with distress. “I don’t know that I’d like to just…send it off to go eat other beings.”

“I don’t think there’s anything else we can do, really,” Flyfang replied, sounding like she was trying to be gentle but coming off as exhausted and frustrated. “That’s probably our only option to save everyone else here.”

Darkpelt’s ears twitched and her eyes narrowed a little. “Let me get back to you on that, Flyfang.”

Flyfang looked at her, more frustrated now than exhausted. “What, do you have something?”

“Not yet,” Darkpelt said lightly. “But when we don’t know everything, there’s usually a solution we can’t see.”

“That’s bold, Darkpelt,” Redheart said. She sounded like she meant it.

Darkpelt smiled and waved her tail. “As for me, I’ll be joining you and the Brothers Grey. I think I can do a lot more if I’m with you all.”

“Who knows for how long, though,” Greyleaf said. “The leaders are probably on our trail as we speak. If we’re going to do something, we should do it now.”

“Let them catch up to us, perhaps,” Beetlefoot growled suddenly.

Everyone looked at him, surprised. He lifted his head and glared at Redheart.

“You’re still wanted by our authorities,” he said. “We already risked ourselves being arrested by following you. If anything, we should keep you here until they arrive.”

“But we’re not going to do that, are we?” Darkpelt tilted her head, blindly staring right at him.

“Probably not, but we should,” Beetlefoot grumbled. “After everything she caused-“

“It is not her fault some idiot got careless, Beetlefoot,” Greyleaf snapped, bristling. “She didn’t tell him to kill Striderfoot, and it was entirely on accident!”

Redheart’s tail touched Greyleaf’s side, and he fell silent. To Beetlefoot, she said softly, “I hate that she died, Beetlefoot, believe me. Knowing everything I know – everything you all now know – it destroys me when anyone is killed, or gets sick, or ages away. If I could, I’d bring her back. But I can’t. No one can. All I can do now is try to rectify that death by saving everyone else.”

Beetlefoot met her eyes defiantly for a long moment. Then he looked away with a scowl.

“Much as you talk as you do, you won’t be following through on getting her in custody,” Darkpelt said. “Because of two things. One, you know at least a couple of us aren’t going to let you just walk away and tattle. Two, you’re just as keen to solve this problem as we are.” Her smile broadened. “Aren’t you?”

Beetlefoot said nothing, but when he lifted his head Mistface immediately caught the terror he was desperately trying to hide behind his surliness. He opened his mouth, trying to form words, before giving up with a sigh.

“Thought so.” Darkpelt gave a self-satisfactory nod and turned her head this way and that. “Now, what about the rest of you? Will you be staying on?”

“I will,” Littlepaw said immediately.

Flyfang looked at her with an aggrieved sort of affection. “And I’m still staying with her, so I guess count me in.”

“It’s the right thing to do, I think,” Laurelclaw said. “Eight heads are better than four. Or-“ he looked to Beetlefoot “-is it seven?”

Beetlefoot shut his eyes and took a breath. When he opened them again, he was much calmer. “It’s eight. At least until we have a good solution.”

“Atta boy,” said Darkpelt. Laurelclaw smiled at Beetlefoot and Redheart looked relieved.

“Then we best get movin’,” Mistface said, standing up. “Already wasted enough time sittin’ around talkin’.”

“Where do we go, though?” Littlepaw tilted her head. “I don’t know any part of this area myself, and we might run into strangers.”

Greyleaf’s eyes squinted just a bit as he thought. He swiftly perked up and stood up too. “If you all don’t mind mist and mud, I’ve got an idea.”

[elisaphoenix13]

To Earn One's Stripes

It was Quill's soft groan that woke him, but he didn't bother opening his eyes to look at him. The celestial had just gotten back from a late shift and Scott listened as Quill's belt was unbuckled and yanked from the loops. It clattered on the carpet almost noiselessly as the man sat on the foot of the bed to kick off his boots, and then his pants and shirt joined them on the floor before Quill collapsed onto the bed next to Scott. The younger could feel the god relaxing into the bed, but the smell of smoke made him wrinkle his nose as he rolled over to look at his husband.

"You smell like smoke." Scott mumbles.

"Sorry babe...I'm exhausted. Is it that bad?" Quill mumbles into his pillow.

"No. Just make sure you shower when you wake up. We have to wash the sheets anyway."

Quill grunted to let Scott know that he had heard him and not even two seconds later, was snoring like an overgrown cat. Flynn's nose poked out from under his collection of Quill's shirts on his bed before the fox crawled out from under them and jumped into the bed after a few tries. As the kit walked up the bed to plop next to the celestial and curl against his neck, Scott began to wonder why Flynn didn't seem to be growing. He had to be almost a year old but still looked as if he were only a couple months old and Quill sure as shit wasn't into…that. Was there a different connection between the two?

Then the metaphorical light bulb lit up. Flynn chewed on Quill's fingers every chance he got, and whenever he drew blood, he whined apologetically and licked the droplets away. Maybe that was the reason Flynn wasn't growing? Neither of them were concerned, just curious.

Scott huffed fondly and rolled back over to go to sleep, but was woken again when he felt another body crawl into the bed between them. Cassie slips under the covers between them, and sighs softly, not even complaining about Quill's smoky smell.

"Nightmare?" Scott asks groggily.

"Couldn't go back to sleep by myself." She whispers.

"Just be careful of Flynn." Scott mumbles before going back to sleep.

The next morning, when Scott woke up, Cassie was already gone from the bed and breakfast wafted in the air through the cracked doorway. He didn't get up. He just rolled over and entwined his legs with Quill's and sighed softly when the god wrapped an arm around him in response. Quill still smelt like smoke but neither he nor Flynn minded...and that was another thing about the fox. Any other fox would run and hide from the smell of smoke but it seemed like Flynn understood the difference between his daddy smelling like it and something like the barbecue at the lake house.

"Are you wearing perfume?" Quill mumbles out and Scott snorts.

"No. Cassie was in here with us last night. Maybe she was wearing some yesterday."

"Hnn...okay…"

"Come on big guy let's take a shower. I can smell breakfast. Barely. You stink." Scott laughs and shakes Quill awake.

"Too tired for shower sex." He groans.

"We don't have to do that. Now get up before I push you off the bed."

Scott rolls out of bed and schleps himself into the adjoining bathroom, taking off his shirt and sleep pants with the door open. Quill may be too tired to do the deed but giving him something to look at would give him enough motivation to get out of bed. And it worked. He heard his husband mumble something along the lines of "you're such a tease" as he got out of bed, and Quill soon joined him as he pulled off his own clothes. They stepped into the shower after Scott turned it on and just before Quill closed the door, Flynn darted in and hee-hee'd as the water wet his fur.

"We might as well get him clean too." Scott laughs.

"Shouldn't it be weird that he can see us naked?" Quill asks as Flynn moves to his usual corner out of the spray and out of danger of being stepped on.

"We've had sex while he was in the room. You're worried about this now?" Scott rolls his eyes as Quill starts washing his hair.

"Nah. I'm not worried about it."

They washed and rinsed, Quill got a little handsy which led to a steamy make out session, and then Quill finally turned his attention to Flynn when the kit started yapping for his attention. While he washed Flynn, Scott got out of the shower and dried off before wrapping the towel around his waist and went to pull their clothes out. It wasn't long before he heard the shower turn off and then Flynn's collar jingling obnoxiously, giving away that he had shaken the water off his fur.

Then he heard the hair dryer. Flynn hee-hee'd again, and Scott rolled his eyes as he took the clothes into the bathroom after getting dressed. Flynn was sitting on the sink as Quill pointed the hair dryer at him on the lowest setting to dry him off, with his tongue sticking out and his tail swishing happily. It had been sort of an accident when they found out Flynn liked the hair dryer. The fox had the zooms one day and darted into Cassie's bedroom and then her bathroom when he saw it cracked open and she pointed her hair dryer at him in the middle of drying her hair to try and chase him out, but he just sat down and enjoyed the warm air.

More often than not, Cassie's hair dryer was in their bathroom now.

"Alright. All done buddy. Go see if Cassie will brush you." Quill says as he turns off the hair dryer.

As if he understood, Flynn hopped down onto the toilet and then the floor before running out and Quill accepted his clothes from Scott after putting the appliance away. It gave the thief time to appreciate the very firmly toned body in front of him until it was hidden away by clothes. He, of course, picked out a tight fitting t-shirt to hug Quill's muscles so he could ogle some more. Shame? The word flew from his vocabulary when he started dating Quill. Now he was married to the man and it was almost like they didn't know what it meant. Just enough to keep not safe for work activities from young eyes.

The second Quill finished getting dressed, Scott glomped onto him. "You sure you need this on?" He asks as he tugs on the shirt.

Quill laughs. "I'm pretty sure Cassie is getting sick of me walking around without a shirt on."

"Maybe later we can--" Scott starts until Flynn comes running back in to screech at them loudly.

"Alright, alright!" Quill huffs and follows Flynn downstairs after Scott drops his arms. "Did Cassie brush you?"

"I will after breakfast." She says as she sets plates on the breakfast counter.

"Do you have any plans for today?" Scott asks her as the couple sits down to eat.

"The circus is in town." She says as she sits with them. "Diana wants to go so I said I'd take her. Stephen was going to come with us but he had an emergency and he's dimension hopping now."

"We can go with you." Quill offers after swallowing some eggs.

"Really?! She was disappointed when Mom had to cancel last minute."

"Sure peanut. We'll eat, get Flynn nice and pretty, and we'll take you and Dia." Scott says.

"Pretty." Quill snorts and bites off a piece of bacon.

==========

He didn't know what happened. One minute they were enjoying the show, and the next, the tent was on fire and people were screaming. Quill immediately jumped into action and got Scott and the girls out safely before focusing on getting everyone else out as quickly as possible, and just as the last of the people were running out of the blazing tent...he heard it. A pained roar filled the air just as potently as the black smoke and Quill looked around until he found a tiger trapped under some of the metal structure that had fallen. The tiger roared again and when Quill got close enough, it growled dangerously until the celestial held his hands up.

"Easy." Quill steps closer slowly and stops again when the beast swipes its paw at him. "I'm just going to get this off of you."

He braves stepping even closer and grabs the metal structure carefully and then lifts it almost effortlessly off of the tiger. It quickly gets up and moves out from under it just before Quill drops it again, and the beast roars out painfully and collapses again. It didn't take much investigation to see the structure had injured the cat and Quill approached it again, ignoring the swipe to heal its injured leg. The tiger's claws sunk deeply into his shoulder, but Quill didn't move until he was done healing the tiger.

He was minorly surprised when the massive paw dropped from his shoulder carefully.

"Alright, get up. Come on." He urges the tiger and leads it by its scruff to their exit when it gets back to its feet.

The tent started coming down around them as they escaped, and they nearly had to dive out to keep themselves from getting buried under the burning tarp. Quill leads the tiger a safer distance away from the fire, and once he catches a glimpse of the fire department arriving and taking action, he looks around for Scott and the girls. Quill found them a few yards away and sighed with relief when he saw they were unharmed, and started the short trek over to them...until he was nearly knocked over by the tiger nudging his leg.

Right. The tiger. There was no chance in hell he was returning it to the circus. He saw a few scars scattered along its side and haunches as he was healing its leg and it infuriated him to know that animal cruelty was real within the circus.

Quill kneels down and slowly reaches out to pet it gently. The tiger chuffs softly and moves closer to nudge the celestial again and he sighs. "If Scott doesn't kill me, Tony will. I have a fox at home. There's a cat and a wolf too. You can't eat them."

No one came to claim the tiger so Quill got back up and led it over to Scott and the girls. Not that he would have handed the tiger over anyway. When he got close enough and they noticed his presence, Scott immediately pulled the girls behind him when he saw the tiger.

"Quill! There's--"

"A tiger. I know." He huffs. "It…" he pauses and looks under the tiger. "Excuse me, he is coming home with us."

Scott opens and closes his mouth before, "he's...what about Flynn and the other animals?!"

"I'm sure Stephen can help with that. Sugar...he needs some TLC." Quill gently pets the tiger's side to draw attention to his scars. "I won't let them take him back...and he's too domesticated for the wild."

Scott sighs. "...if you think it's safe then fine. Tony is probably going to shit a brick though."

"I don't think Tony cares anymore."

"I can make a portal home!" Diana finally pipes up, and without the use of a sling ring, she opens a portal to their floor at the tower and walks through with Cassie and Scott before Quill follows with the tiger.

As the portal closes behind them, Quill firmly grabs the tiger by its scruff as Flynn comes tearing after them from out of nowhere...and the kit immediately skids to a stop when he sees the tiger. Both animals stared at each other for what seemed like an hour, and then the tiger finally lays down and pulls Flynn closer with one of his massive paws and starts licking him. The kit screeches in surprise but once he realizes he's not being eaten, he slowly begins to relax until he's actually starting to enjoy the grooming.

"I…" Scott finally starts with an expression of bewilderment. "Just like that? Do we even need Stephen's help communicating with him?"

"We might not." Quill replies in amusement.

"What are you gonna name him?" Cassie asks.

"Oh pfft...hell if I know." Quill says.

Scott bravely crouches next to the tiger and hesitates before reaching out and petting him. He doesn't even falter in cleaning the fox between his paws. "He looks like an Emir."

Cassie nods. "I like it."

"Emir it is." Quill chuckles.

"Uncle Quill, you're bleeding!" Diana says as she points to his wounded shoulder.

"Believe me, it was worse than this when he swipes at me. It'll be healed in another hour." The god tells her with a smile. "You better go upstairs and tell your dad that you're okay. I'm sure the fire is all over the news."

Diana agrees and takes Cassie with her to go upstairs and Scott stands back up to stand next to Quill and watch Emir lick Flynn. Maybe since Quill had helped him and even saved his life, Emir was respecting the ones he was with and knew Flynn wasn't dinner? He wasn't sure but it was a mercy. If he had to keep them separated until Stephen got home, it would have been a nightmare.

"Maybe I can get Emir to do that to you too." Quill cackles and Scott smacks his chest with the back of his hand.

"Don't you dare."

[queen-scribbles]

Breather

Oh, look, another @speakergame​ fic for Phillip. It’s only fair, right? Callie has one with Delia and one with Sebastian, so now Phillip has one with Steph and one with Rory. EQUALITY. :P (vaguely spoiler-adjacent, technically, for the end of the last update.)

----

The human body did have its limits, and no amount of dread or determination could overrule them forever. So while rotating drivers meant they didn’t have to stop overnight on their dash back to Nivio, back to people who could help, who would know what was wrong with Stephanie(and, by extension, him), they would have to make brief pauses at a couple rest stops along the way.

They made it an hour or so into Colorado before the first one. While part of Phillip chafed at the delay, the part that desperately needed a breather, needed to stretch his legs kept him from going insane. He and Steph (and Lily) were all too familiar with the importance of not sitting too long, but under the circumstances he almost wished they were pushing “too long” even further than they already had.

So he paced. Rapid, driven figure-eights around a pair of empty weather-beaten picnic tables, occasionally widening to loop a nearby clump of prairie grass. Arms crossed, head... somewhere. There was too much on his mind for a specific chain of thought.

He was so drowning in that too much he almost walked slap-bang into Rory.

She rocked back on one heel with a sound that was almost a yelp to avoid their collision, then grinned. “Okay, much as I would have deserved that, I do come in peace.” She held up a pair of small crinkly orange and white bags. “With snacks.”

One side of his mouth made a brief attempt at a sheepish smile and he raked one hand through his hair. “Sorry. And thanks, but I’m not really hungry.”

Rory shrugged and tucked the bag she’d offered in the pocket of her flannel shirt. “Alright, more for me.” She plunked down on one of the picnic tables, feet braced on the bench seat, and had the other bag tugged open before she paused to look at him. “Unless you wanna be alone with whatever thoughts have you all.... like that.” She swirled a hand in a general encompassing gesture toward him and Phillip couldn’t help huffing a small laugh.

“Nah, you’re fine,” he assured her, voice still hoarse and breaking from the aftermath of Cammore. He’d kill for another good cup of tea.

Rory nodded and fished a pretzel nugget out of the bag. “Okay, 'cause I saw you over here by yourself an’ thought you might want company, but just realized some people like to be alone sometimes, so I don’t wanna intrude if you’re one of those people. ‘Specially with all the shit you have going on right now."

This time he couldn’t stop a full laugh. “I am one of those people, but this is not one of those times. I just needed room to pace. Your- Company’s prob’ly a good thing; distract from the radio static in my head.”

She wrinkled her nose sympathetically and tossed the pretzel nugget in the air, leaning sideways to catch it in her mouth. “Well, then, I’m happy to distract you, Phillip.”

He liked the way she said his name, barely managed to keep from saying so in his frazzled, sleep-deprived state. “Thanks."

Rory studied him as he paced and she chewed. “I’d say you can take a seat, but after all that time in a car, you probably wanna stretch those long legs, huh?”

“Yeah.” Especially with Lily driving and Sebastian up front again; he’d been squished in one of the back end seats with Steph practically in his lap. Not a bad thing, given the circumstances, but still very cramped. (He decided not to overthink long legs. His height was pretty obvious and he’d already blushed far too much around this woman to be reading extra meaning into things she said. Even if she did think it was cute.)

Despite the mention of distraction, neither of them spoke through his next couple figure eights. Rory made a good show of catching the pretzel nuggets each time she flicked one in the air. Phillip’s pacing showed as he watched.

“See something you like?” Rory teased when she caught him and his ears started burning immediately.

“No- I mean, that’s not...” Phillip groaned and suppressed the urge to yank his jacket’s hood up over his face. “You’re good at that” --a nod toward the snack bag--”and I-I’m impressed.”

“With my snack-catching skills?” She grinned. “Fitting, I guess, huh? Considering the whole.... were-something thing..”

He laughed. “Hadn’t thought of that.”

Rory cocked her head, fiddling with the next pretzel nugget a moment before tossing it up. “Whatever it is, I hope it’s something cool.” She flicked the pretzel nugget up and leaned forward to catch it.

Phillip shrugged. “I think it’s cool in general, whatever your animal form winds up being.” He didn’t mention the year in elementary school he’d spent wishing he was a werecat instead of a Speaker. They hadn’t known each other quite long enough for that. Yet.

“Aw, you’re sweet,” she said with a light laugh. “So. How ‘bout you?” She picked out another pretzel.  “How’re your snack catching skills?”

“I do alright,” he said, a brief smile tugging his lips. “Better’n my sister, anyway.”

Rory’s grin widened and she patted the table next to her. “Lemme see.”

Phillip only hesitated the barest second before taking her up on the playful challenge. He sat next to her--closer than he normally would have to avoid what looked like bird droppings--and took the bag of snacks she passed him.

The first one he caught. Second one bounced off his nose but did go in his mouth. Third one he missed because Rory was giggling about the second one.

The fourth one he leaned so far back to catch she had to grab his arm to keep him from falling off the table. The fifth one, at least, was a clean catch that allowed him to reclaim some of his dignity.

“See?” Phillip mumbled around the mouthful of pretzel and cheese.  “I’m okay, but not as good as you.”

“Mmhm,” Rory laughed as she balled up her snack bag and tucked it in her pocket. “I did see.”

Phillip half-smiled in answer to the twinkle in her hazel eyes, rubbing the back of his neck. He wished this could just be what it looked like; sitting on a rest stop picnic table with a pretty girl, goofing off with snack food and not minding how silly they looked. But his throat was still sore and he could see Rory’s scars and couldn’t quite forget the shaken, pissed look in Steph’s, or that Lily didn’t know what was going on.

The distraction had been nice while it lasted.

“Thanks,” he said softly, fishing out another pretzel and eating it normally. 

“Don’t mention it.” Rory raked a hand through her hair, curls tumbling even more helter-skelter behind the motion. She nudged his knee with her own. “Least I can do after how much you’ve all helped me.”

Phillip opened his mouth to protest, but just then Samson trotted over and stuck his head against the hand not holding a mostly empty bag of pretzels. Phillip’s first instinct was something happened to Stephanie, but a quick glance showed her in conversation with Sebastian and Az and seemingly just fine. (Considering) So he scritched Samson’s ears instead as he commented to Rory, “You say that like you haven’t done anything else to help.” 

“Well, you did save my life and all,” she said with a shrug. “And I gotta wonder what the dreaming about you thing means, so call it curiosity coupled with gratitude.”

“Just don’t want you thinking you owe us or anything...” His voice started cracking again and he let the end trail off.

Rory flashed him a sympathetic smile. “Maybe you should hold off on the talking?”

“Leave it all to you?” Phillip asked hoarsely, glad the playful intent still carried in the words.

“Well, I am good at it,” she laughed. 

He nodded and smiled and scratched under Samson’s chin, watching black wisps drift off the dog’s rapidly wagging tail. 

They lapsed into silence a moment before Rory started humming. Phillip cocked his head a few bars in, vaguely recognizing the tune.

“That’s a song,” he mumbled, more to Samson than Rory, but she still paused.

“Uh-huh.”

Way to state the obvious, his thoughts jibed. “No, I mean, I know it, but don’t remember from where...” His hand stilled on Samson’s neck a moment later. “Cammore. When...” I was screaming myself hoarse. “You sang it while you were sitting with me.”

Rory’s brows arched and she leaned forward to brace her forearms against her knees. “Wow, yeah. You heard that?”

“Not... really?” Phillip said slowly. “It’s more an... impression than a memory, if that makes sense? Like, I don’t remember the words or anything but the melody’s familiar?”

She nodded and grinned. “Oh, good, I don’t have to worry about my singing voice scaring you off.”

“That wouldn’t be a risk anyway,” he mumbled, not realizing it had been out loud until her grin widened.

“Charmer,” she winked. “But yeah, you’d been screaming and I'd been babbling and sorta... ran out of things to say for a minute, and it seemed like a good idea?”

“What song was it?” Phillip resumed petting Samson at an irritated wuff(which came from behind him rather than by his knee).

“Welsh lullaby,” Rory said. She ran a hand through her hair again. “I dunno, a lullaby seemed fitting, somehow.”

“Well, if I heard it enough for it to make an impression, seems like it helped.”

“Good point.”

He hesitated a moment before asking, “Could you teach me?”

“What, the lullaby?”

“Yes, and, um, Welsh in general, too?”

She shrugged. “Dunno how good a teacher I’ll be, but we can give it a shot.” A teasing grin split her face, crinkling scars and freckles alike. “Do you actually wanna learn, or is this a way of spending time with me? ‘Cause you don’t need an excuse for that.”

“...Both?” God, he’d love to blame the way the word squeaked on his half-gone voice, but from the heat climbing his neck, that was no more than partly to blame.

Rory bit her lip, graciously holding back whatever remark had sprung to mind, and tugged one of her curls. “Your honesty is appreciated. So, you like languages? Not many people out there with a burning desire to learning Welsh for the heck of it. "

Phillip nodded, clearing his throat. “Yeah. Aside from English I only speak Russian and maybe a smattering of Spanish and Latin, but I’ve been wanting to learn another for a while.”

“Russian?” She arched a brow.

He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s a long story.”

“Ah. Well, it looks like it’s one you’ll have to tell me back in your town.” Rory craned her neck to look toward where the others were all congregating in the direction of the cars and her motorcycle. “Seems the break’s over.” She squeezed his knee as she pushed to her feet and hopped down. “C’mon, Prince Charming, time to hit the road.”

Right. The road back to Nivio. To figure out what the hell was going on.

She’d done a very good job distracting him from that. It was blessing enough he wouldn’t question the nickname. (yet.) But reality could only be ignored or avoided for so long, and in this case especially there could be serious consequences for pushing it too far.

So Phillip climbed down from the table with a sigh and whistled for Samson to follow as he headed back to his car. It was his turn to drive, and he didn’t want to waste any time.

There was one last pretzel nugget in the bag when he went to crumple it, and he pulled it out to eat before throwing the bag away. No point wasting and besides--he waved at Rory as her bike purred to life--every little bit helped.

(He didn’t just mean the snacks.)

[frostsinth]

The Bard’s Bounty - Pt. 7

Part 1|2|3|4|5|6

Iara still can’t believe anything she feels, and certainly doesn’t trust anything Balam says. He’s obviously just pretending to like her so she’ll let him go... right?

I’d really like there to be ten parts to be even, but I guess it just depends on how I this wraps up. Might be less. As always, my undying thanks for tuning in! I love hearing what you think, so please comment and reblog with your thoughts!

I was not sure what woke me originally. If it was the sound of an animal moving through the brush. Or perhaps it was something else. Something more subtle. But then I heard Goda’s whicker, and was pulled fully from my sleep.

My wound was feeling much better, and I was able to slip out of Balam’s arms without waking him. The fire had died down, and I passed it by without much thought as I slowly moved to the mouth of the cave. I left my hand wrapped around my middle, as if to support myself. The makeshift bandages felt damp, and I knew I had probably reopened the wound a little in my moving.

Yet something left me unsettled. I could not keep myself in the orc’s arms. I glanced over my shoulder at him, leaning against the stones closest to me for support. The man seemed to sleep quite deep; his shoulders slumped, his chin against his chest. I had to tighten my lips to keep from smiling.

Inside me, a battle raged. I felt oddly raw and vulnerable. I couldn’t remember the last time I had ever felt so exposed. Goda whickered again, pulling me from my thoughts. I walked over to her and took her great head in my arms. She snuffed and nuzzled me, obviously pleased to see me again after close to two days of my absence. I wondered if she had been able to smell my blood. If she knew how close I had come to dying.

I stroked her fetlock as I considered everything that had happened in those two days. It was crazy; absolute insanity that I was even considering it. After all, at the beginning of the week, I hadn’t even known Balam’s name. Three days ago, I wouldn’t have been able to pull his face out of a crowd.

Shaking my head, I sighed, leaning my forehead against Goda’s. She wuffed softly, blinking her huge brown eyes slowly.

“How could I?” I asked her softly, and she lipped at my hand with her velvety lips. “We’re so close, Goda… His bounty would more than pay off the last of my debt…”

Her tail flicked, but she otherwise seemed to have no answers for me. I sighed, turning and leaning my back against her side. She curled her head around and tugged at my skirt. I smiled and stroked her behind her ears.

“But how can I just let him go?” I pressed. “If I don’t bring him in, someone else will… Sigi and Varius are the type to hold a grudge.” She snorted, shaking her head, and I nodded in agreement. “He’s not safe, even if…”

I paused, pushing back the loose hair out of my face. I winced as the movement flexed my injured side, and rested my hand lightly upon it again. I remembered how he had stayed. Even when he could have abandoned me and gone off on his own. I knew it would be a while yet until I completely admitted it to myself, but there was no way I could turn him in now. If for no other reason than that he had saved my life… I at least owed him a chance at his.

My lips tingled, and I licked them slowly, remembering the night before. Wondering what it meant… I swallowed a lump in my throat. Probably just a bard’s desperate attempt to make a connection; make me see him as something real. Make me feel guilty about collecting him. I shook my head, steeling my will and looking around. My stomach growled, and I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I ate.

The sun hadn’t quite set yet; there were still a few hours of daylight left. I used it to gather edible plants and berries between the roots of the trees. I had to stop every few minutes to lean against a trunk and let a dizzy spell pass; but the forest was quite lush and I didn’t have to look hard to find enough to fill my arms.

I wasn’t gone long, and when I came back I saw Balam stoking the dying fire. When I approached, he looked up. When his brown eyes met mine, he smiled, and I felt myself melt a little.

I looked away, walking over and depositing my harvest beside him.

“..Hungry?” I offered, gathering up a handful of berries and nibbling at them.

“Famished!” He exclaimed, eyeing my findings. 

Leaning over, he took a few things and bit them experimentally. Satisfied he gathered more, then scooched closer to me until his huge thigh touched mine. The fire cackled and snapped warmly again, and I looked down at my hands.

“You don’t have to play that game anymore,” I told him, chewing on some leaves. They were a little bitter, but had a minty underlying taste.

He raised one bushy eyebrow at me, munching contentedly. “What game?”

I shoved his thigh pointedly. “This. It’s useless to pretend. Besides,” I grabbed another handful, “There’s a … good possibility you saved my life. So I owe you.” I shrugged it off, leaning back against the rocks. “To repay you, I’ve already decided not to turn you in… So you don’t have worry about pretending to still like me. You can go back to hating me now.”

I jumped at his sudden hefty laugh, spinning to look at him. I frowned, my brows knitting together as I stared at him. I felt a little heat rise to my cheeks. His laugh bounced around us, and even Goda poked her head in curiously at the sound.

“We’ll discuss your refusal to believe you would have died without me later-” He reached out one arm, wrapping it around my middle and with surprisingly little effort lifted me off the ground and back onto his lap- “And thanks for  the whole… bounty thing. But you’re crazy if you think I’ve been ‘pretending’ anything.”

“Get off me, you oaf!” I growled, wriggling. I winced in pain, stilling my struggles.

He used my momentary distraction to wrap his arms all the way around me. I felt him nuzzling against my ear, and turned my head away. I felt as though my ears might catch on fire. I tried unsuccessfully to push down the happiness that filled me at his touch.

“I already told you I’m letting you go,” I grumbled, shaking my head, “You don’t have to-”

His hand reached up and cupped my cheek gently. He slowly turned me to face him and leaned in, resting his forehead against mine.

“By the Gods, woman. Take a hint.”

I scowled at him, longing to smack that stupid lopsided grin off his face. He studied me for a moment, with those big, doe-like eyes of his. The longer he stared, the more heat I felt in my cheeks. But I refused. Refused to believe he meant any of it. After all, how could he? What evidence in my life had ever led me to believe that such emotions were even possible?

As he stared, his expression softened, and his thump traced back and forth along my cheek. He sighed, and his hot breath hit me squarely. It smelled of the sweet berries and mint leaves. His eyes flicked down to my lips.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” He murmured, so softly it made my skin tingle to hear it.

My breath caught in my throat, and I felt my lips tremble slightly. “Don’t play with me, Balam,” I whispered, closing my eyes. I couldn’t take his staring anymore. “Just… don’t.”

His fingers cupping my jaw tightened ever so slightly. I must have tensed beneath his touch, because he quickly released me and returned to his feather-light caressing.

I started a little when his lips pressed against mine. The same tender, delicate kiss as the night before. I shivered beneath his touch, but melted into his mouth. I wondered if he could taste the saltiness of my tears too.

When he gently pulled away, I slowly opened my eyes. Daring to meet his once more. So absolutely terrified of what I would find waiting there. I wasn’t expecting the warmth. It made his face seem soft, and I blinked a few times to make sure I was really awake. He reached up and wiped away my tears with the back of his hand.

“Iara, you are the most stubborn, callous, infuriating, and irritating woman I’ve ever met,” He told me softly, his lopsided grin filling his face, “But you could shove me off a cliff and I would spend eternity climbing back up it just to see you one more time…”

I couldn’t help laughing softly, the edges of it tinged with a bitter sadness. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

Carefully, he pulled me closer to him, burying his face in my neck. I could feel his large tusks scrape my skin, and his dreads fell about me like a curtain. He sighed, and his warm breath tickled the nape of my neck.

“I’m not great at this either,” He admitted, “All I know… Look, I know you don’t need anyone, and you’re used to being alone… But I’m just saying that if you… you know, if you wanted…” Another deep sigh, and he turned his head so that he could lightly kiss my skin beside him. “If you wanted… maybe we could be alone together.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing again. My heart raced in my chest, and I wondered if he could feel it in my pulse beneath his lips.

“How would we be alone if we’re together?” I teased, trying to stifle the amusement in my voice.

“Gods damn it all, woman-” He grunted, leaning back.

He stopped when he saw my face; the smile on my lips. The light in my eyes. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, then dropped my gaze a little shyly. But I quickly returned, looking up at him again.

“You never shut up, you know,” I said, smirking a little, “And you actively seek to annoy me. Oh, and you have a bounty on your head-”

“Minor thing, really.” He replied, smirking too.

I stopped, raising an eyebrow at him. “ You never told me what that bounty was for…”

“Ah,... yes… That.” He sighed. “Good question…”

I felt him shift, stiffening slightly and adjusting his arms around me. He avoided my eyes as he traveled deep into his thoughts, evident from the furrowing of his broad brow. I relieved him of the pressure, tucking my head into the crook of his shoulder and waiting patiently.

“There was a woman,” He began hesitantly, “She used to come to the tavern I worked every night. And she always looked so sad... “ I tried not to let the sudden drop of my heart into the pit of my stomach make any outward affect, listening quietly. “I managed to befriend her, and it came pouring out that she was a noblewoman in a loveless marriage. I could always tell she was keeping something else from me. But she never told me what, nor did she ever even share her last name. I became her confidant, and she my benefactor.”

When he paused, I swallowed a dry lump in my throat. “Her confidant?” I echoed softly.

His rumbling chuckle rolled through his chest beneath my hand. “Perhaps she wanted more, I don’t know. She always seemed interested, but also horribly afraid of something.. So yes. Just her confidant and nothing more.”

I tried not to sigh with relief, and felt his big meaty hand stroke the back of my head lightly.

“I had a comfortable life for a time, but hearing her woes… I wanted to do something about it. Thought it was my duty to. So I arranged to have her smuggled out of the city, to someplace safe.” His fingers stroking my hair stilled, and I felt his breath against the top of my head. “I was younger, more brash. I didn’t think beyond a single day. And when I convinced her to leave her husband, when she trusted me, I signed her death warrant….” His lips brushed my hair and I felt some of the strands catch on his tusk. But he continued, unperturbed. “Her husband turned out to be the Sheriff, a dark and vicious man, powerful and with many contacts throughout the world. When he learned his wife had taken what he assumed to be an orc lover and who planned to steal her away…”

I leaned back to look at him, and he glanced at me through his dark lashes. I didn’t like seeing the way the sadness sat heavily in the shadows of his face. I reached up, cupping his cheek delicately. He leaned into my touch and covered my hand with his, closing his eyes briefly.

“He had her killed, and placed the bounty on my head. I’ve been on the run ever since. I shut out everyone else, never made another friend let alone anything else. Kept everyone at an arm’s length, for fear of ...” He dropped off, but I knew what words he left out.

I wasn’t sure what to say. My lips formed silent words, but none seemed fully suitable. So instead, I leaned forward and placed my forehead against his. He bowed into me, and his dreads fell around us like a curtain of privacy. When he opened his eyes again, he found mine waiting.

“I do not know if I can keep you safe-”

“I can take care of myself.” I cut him off, my gaze hardening. “And you’ll have a better chance with me than on your own. I know how the guild works. I know how they think. We’ll be able to stay one step ahead.”

He started to shake his head, but I stilled him with both of my hands. He met my eyes.

“You are a fool, but you are my fool now.” I told him firmly, but I felt my lips quiver a little as the same realization hit me. “So you’d better get used to it.”

He gave me his lopsided grin. “I am a made man then.”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help returning his smile. Before I could react, he caught my lips with his again. Pressing into me so very tenderly, pushing my hair out of my face with his big hand and resting it at the base of my skull. I sank into him, breathing in his scent. Reveling in his touch. Knowing that this fall was going to hurt me hard, but not even caring.

Finally, I pulled back. “We need to get moving. We’ve already wasted enough time here.”

“Hardly wasted.” He replied, smirking.

I shook my head and pulled myself carefully out of his arms. “Sigi and Varius aren’t known for their forgiving natures. They’ll be on our trail as soon as they are able, if they aren’t already. But I know a safe house we can lay low for a little while.”

“Sounds magical.” He said, teasing me.

He obediently stood though, having to duck his head to fit in the short cave as he followed me out. One big booted foot kicked the fire off to the side, putting it out quite effectively. I moved over to Goda, brushing my hand down her long nose as I looked about, already thinking and planning.

“There’s no time to try and cover our old trail,” I told him as he came up behind me. “We’ll just have to erase our path from here.”

“Wait, what about you?” He asked me suddenly as I moved over to Goda’s side.

I paused, looking back at him. “What about me?”

His gaze hardened a little. “You still have a debt to pay.”

I was already shaking my head before he finished speaking. “You are already on the run from the guild. What difference does it make if I join you?” I raised a hand, cutting him off. “Shut up and don’t argue with me. I’ve already made up my mind.”

“So glad to hear it.”

We both jumped at the voice, and a chill shot down my spine. Before I could move, hands snaked out and grabbed my arms. Balam gave a shout, but he too was quickly subdued as more hands grabbed at him. Kicking his legs out from under him and forcing him to the ground. Goda tossed her head and whinnied loudly, but another man came out of the woodwork and grabbed her bridle to hold her still. I was dragged back, and I heard a familiar chuckle behind me.

“Miss me?” Came the sarcastic hiss in my ear.

My lips curled back in a snarl as I struggled against Varius’ hold. I felt my wound rip open again, felt the blood pouring down my side. I managed to catch sight of him over my shoulder. One corner of his forehead was still swollen and bruised, and he had a bandage wrapped over his shoulder. I twisted, but his hands were firmly clasped around my arms, and another guild member I didn’t know had joined him to pull me back.

“We have them secured, Guildmaster Warrick.” Varius proclaimed eagerly.

I spun, looking through the shadows in the forest for the source of the first voice. The voice that haunted me day and night. I found him, stepping out quietly from amid the trunks, fixing his gloves as if all of this was simply a mild inconvenience. 

The Guildmaster was a tall man, with slender shoulders and narrow features. His red hair was pulled back into a neat bun at the top of his head, and his tanned skin flexed over his lithe muscles. I glared at him as he waved his hand, signaling the men behind me to force my shoulders down and kick me to my knees.

“When Sigi sent word that my dearest Iara had betrayed the guild, well, I could hardly believe it!” The Guildmaster began, slowly sauntering closer to me. He bent down grabbing my chin with one gloved hand. “I thought to myself, not Iara. Not my precious child. She would never.” He ran his thumb over my lip, his dark eyes tracing my face. “But here is evidence to the contrary, it would seem.”

He straightened, walking over to Balam. It had taken no less than five bounty hunters to subdue the orc, and he was panting from the exertion. The Guildmaster considered him, his face flat.

“You have caused quite a bit of trouble for me, orc,” He said, his voice as cold as ice, “Not only in time, but also the cost of one of my beloved children.”

Warrick turned back to me, sighing with a false regretfulness. “You know the punishment for abandoning your agreement, Iara.”

Varius eagerly yanked my head back, pressing a sharp blade against my throat. I bared my teeth angrily, and struggled. But their hold on me was too strong. I ignored the blinding pain growing in my side and the swirling edges of my vision, facing the Guildmaster stubbornly.

“Such a shame to waste one of my beloved daughters. So much wasted affection. You had such… potential.”

The way his voice dripped over his words made me sick. I almost shook as the memory of his affection laced across my skin again. My stomach turned in knots, but I tightened my jaw. I would not give him the satisfaction. I saw him moving to nod to Varius.

“WAIT!” Roared Balam.

Warrick paused his order, raising one brow at the prostrated orc.

“Let her go.”

“Balam!” I snapped, and had a knee dug into my back for my troubles.

“Why, praytell, should I ever do that?” The Guildmaster sounded amused.

The big orc squared his shoulders, looking at Warrick with fierce eyes. “The Sheriff will pay more for me alive.” He reminded him. “You let her go, and I will come with you willingly.”

I started to protest again, but Varius clamped his hand over my mouth.

“Let the big boys speak now,” He purred into my ear.

Warrick seemed to turn this offer over in his head, glancing over his shoulder at me briefly. Then he turned back to the orc. “The Sheriff has indicated no difference-”

“Let her go, and I can promise you, I can help you convince the Sheriff to raise my bounty. He would be pleased to have me to do with as he pleased.” Balam interrupted. “But you kill her, and you will have to take my head here.”

The Guildmaster shrugged. “You have yet to give me a real reason.”

“You said yourself,” Balam argued, “How much I have cost you. You could gain it back. Just let her go.”

I shook my head, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. I desperately wanted to speak. But Varius’ hand was clamped so tightly over my mouth that my jaw hurt. I struggled, wincing at the pain in my side.

After a long, strained silence, Warrick walked over to me. He cupped his hand under my chin, forcing me to look up at him. Varius obediently released my mouth, so the Guildmaster could look unhindered at my face. His beady eyes looked at me with cold disinterest, and I felt my throat go dry.

“I release you from your debt, my sweet little Iara.” He said. Then reached up his hand to push my hair out of my face again. “But if I ever see you again, there will be no end to the pain I will inflict upon you.”

Before I could speak, he snapped his fingers. A light sparked between them, and as the magic flowed, he pressed his thumb to my forehead. My eyes rolled back into my skull and I slumped to the ground.

...

UPDATE: Part Eight HERE

[stars-in-my-universe]

I Hope: part 2 Tyler Seguin

The long awaited sequel of I hope. This will be the final part, I feel like we all needed some closure. I hope you all like it and please let me know what you think, I hope I didn’t disappoint.

Part 1

“McKayla, are you serious? You’ve known about these plans for over a month!” He watched as the blonde parades around the bedroom putting on the last touches of her make Up. Tyler sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands as he waited for her to hurry the hell up.

“Tyler, I have to go meet my sister! She’s going through some stuff okay?’ Tyler was very understanding and had more than enough patience but the fact that she was canceling on Tyler's friend’s barbecue after knowing about it for over a month...it irritated him to no end. He watched as she walked out of the bathroom in heels.

“You’re meeting your sister in heels?” He arched an eyebrow and looked at his fiancee.

“We’ll probably go eat honestly. What is the big deal?” Tyler shook his head and grabbed his keys from the dresser.

“I’ll see you later, if you get home before me let the dogs out but do not leave them outside til I get home. Let them in, Mckayla.” Tyler rolled his eyes as he heard her let out a ‘mhmm.’

Tyler knew this wasn’t working, he knew something else was going on behind his back but he hadn't caught her in a lie nor was their proof plus she still wore her engagement ring. It still didn’t excuse the fact that all they did was fight, constantly. He was tired of it. He drove To His friends barbecue, tapping his fingers to the song and thinking of what he should probably do about the whole situation.

Past

“Tyler, I don’t like fighting with you and I also don’t like the silent treatment you give me every time. We’re adults, we should talk about shit like this.” The two had just gotten into a fight about how she was planning to go to school in California and not Dallas, news that Tyler had no idea about.

“I’ve always planned to go to school in Cali once I saved up enough, Tyler. That’s always been my plan, the plan my Parents and friends always knew about. I didn’t think I’d ever change my mind.” He knew he couldn’t ask her to give up her school for Him, she loved it.

“Y/n I want you to go to school, I want you to have your dream. I just-“ she watched the anger leave him and watched as sadness and uneasiness washed over him.

“I just wish you didn’t have to go so far.” She sighed and moved to sit in his lap. Her hands found their place on his shoulders and his on her hips.

“I would look at schools in Dallas Tyler, but if I had some sort of I don’t know long term commitment from you? Like if I looked at schools here we’d have to be in it for the long run.”

“Deal. You could move in.” He watched her eyes widen.

“Y/n, I’m here for it. For you. I love you. You can move in and look at schools here, anything to get you to stay.” You bit your lip and nodded, you two were really doing this.

“I love you.”

Present

Tyler shook His head as he pulled up to the house, the music already blaring from the back yard.

He may have been engaged to Mckayla and it may have been months since it happened but the past couple of weeks he hadn't been able to get you out of his head.

He hadn't seen you since the last time you said goodbye to him; you stopped showing up to the parties and you stopped hanging around the same Crowd. You had let Him go and Tyler didn’t realize how much it had hurt to not see you around anymore . He had fucked up and he knew that. He knew that the moment you found out about him cheating, he knew that the moment you looked at Him sadly and told him you were going to be staying with your best friend and you’d come back for your stuff which you never did, he knew he ruined it all when you bent down and kissed his dogs goodbye for the last time.

Tyler knew you were done with him when he came Home one day and the pair of house keys were on the kitchen counter, the engagement ring next to it and the wags jersey that you’d specially wear to his games folded neatly underneath it all.

He wasn’t an idiot, he had fucked up Something good and lately he had been wondering if it was even worth it. If what he did was worth breaking your heart, because as cliche as it was he never meant to hurt you.

x-x

Tyler threw his phone against the wall and threw himself onto His bed. He had been home waiting for her, when his phone binged with a text message. And then another and then another. When he finally locked it and looked at his messages he wished he hadn't. ‘Dude Mckayla is here, you coming?’ ‘Bro whose the guy with your girl?’ ‘Segs, wtf is going on?’ It was officially, she was cheating on him and she didn’t even care to hide it. Going to the same spots his friends did, probably not thinking about covering her tracks. He had called her several Times and no answer, all going to voicemail. He was sick to his stomach, he was hurt, and angry and a little bit disgusted. He knew he needed to end it, not like it would come to a surprise, they were both unhappy to the point where she was seeing someone else, Something Tyler had expected for a while.

Picking up his phone, he had called her again, which was sent to voicemail again. Shaking his head he threw his phone on his bed and made his way downstairs, whistling for the boys to come. All three labs greeted him at the foot of the stairs, their tails wagging happily. He was getting restless and angry so he figured waking the dogs would help Him calm down a bit.

Past

“Why is he so fat, ty? Like where did you go wrong?” He shoved you gently making you laugh.

“I left him to my mom and sisters one summer and I guess they over fed him.” The black lab was happily laying at your feet on the grass in Tyler’s back yard. Marshall was chewing on a dog toy in the shade and Gerry was jumping in and out of the pool every time Tyler would throw the toy in.

“You would think having three of them, they’d be a lot crazier but it’s almost as if the more there are the calmer they are.” Tyler nodded and looked over at you.

“Yeah even when Gerry was a puppy he’d just follow what Marshall and Cash did and it was so much easier to train him.” You ran your hand along Cash’s back making him let out a sigh.

“Maybe one day, you and I can get one...together.” You looked up at Tyler.

“You already have all the colors though.” He let out a laugh making you smile.

“It doesn’t have to be A lab, it would just be nice to adopt one with you and raise one.” You nodded.

“Honestly I think when we’re more settled, I think it would be a good idea.” You watched his face light up, Tyler was such a dog dad.

“On one condition.” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“It has to be a girl, this time.”

“Noooooo!”

Present

“This isn’t working mckayla and you know it. Cheating on me, running into my friends and basically ignoring them. Ignoring my calls, late lunches with your sister what the fuck.” He watched as she rolled her eyes.

“What did you expect Tyler? All we do is fight, it’s exhausting.” Tyler didn’t say much else. He knew what a healthy relationship was supposed to be and this wasn’t it. He had one and he ruined it.

“McKayla give me the ring, get your shit and get out.” McKayla stopped folding the clothes she had in her hand.

“So that’s it? You’re not even going to try to work things out?” Tyler gawked at her, she had to be kidding?

“No, I’m not. Because this hasn’t worked out for a long time and you know that. You hate my dogs, you don’t even try to spend time with my friends, but yet we always have to run to your sister’s? A relationship is a two way street, McKayla.”

Past

“Relationships are a two way street, Tyler. I’m tired, I’m tired of chasing you, of begging you for attention. I shouldn’t have to!” You were fed up with his partying. He had stopped caring about the dinner dates, ranked on dinner with your friend, You had even taken a skype call from his mom for him having to lie as to why he wasn’t there to talk to her. All because he was out with his friends partying till 3am.

It had all started when the Stars lost the game against the Blues eliminating them from the Playoffs. They had all taken it hard, but the team decided to go to Vegas before summer started which Y/N could deal with. She encouraged Tyler to go, saying he needed it but then he came home and he was cold, and continued to party well into the night; you would come home from work and people would be everywhere throughout the house and in the backyard, so you’d go straight upstairs with the dogs and go to sleep feeling empty and sad.

“I know that, I’m trying I just-” Y/n glared down at him.

“You’re not trying, Tyler. You’re hardly here!” You were mad and hurt and all you wanted was answers. The two sat in deafening silence as you chose your next words carefully.

“Who is she Tyler?” His head shot up in confusion.

“Don’t lie to me just tell me who she is or tell me you have no idea what I’m talking about.” Tyler didn’t know what to say and apparently his silence was your answer.

“I knew it…”

“Y/n wait, just let me-” Tyler looked up at you and expected to see tears and heartache but instead all he saw was...nothing. Your face was blank, guarded, your eyes cold.

“I will get my stuff tomorrow, I’m going to stay somewhere else tonight.”

Present

Tyler didn’t expect to run into you ever, in Dallas. He figured you would have either moved on or gone to California. But then he saw you at the park, with a cute little black lab puppy on a leash he felt like he could breathe again.

You looked good, healthy and most of all happy. You had that light back to you and the puppy that is currently jumping in your lap probably helped a lot. He didn’t know if he should go over and talk to you or just walk away and leave you, you seemed at peace.

Maybe it was the fact that he was nursing a broken heart or maybe he just needed something positive in his life, or maybe he just missed you but he decided to take the leap and go talk to you.

He watched you stand up and grab the leash off the ground and then it was like time stopped. You turned around and you looked up, the smile on your face immediately fall. Shit. Tyler sent you a small smile and stopped in front of you, his hands in his pockets.

“Tyler…” You didn’t know what to say.

“Y/n, hi.” He glanced down at the puppy who was nipping at the leash.

“Oh uh, this is Bella.” Tyler bent down to say hi to the puppy who happily licked his face.

“You finally got one?” You nodded.

“A girl, like you always wanted.” You let out a sad laugh, Tyler stood back up and stared at you.

“So how have you been?” You sighed and ran a hand through your hair.

“Tyler, let’s not do this.”

“I miss you.” You looked up at him and shook your head.

“Tyler.”

“I know it’s a lot and it’s been awhile. I just, I wanted to say sorry. I’m so sorry for everything I put you through. I messed up, bad and I just-” You chuckled to yourself and stopped him before he could continue.

“She cheated didn’t she?” Tyler was taken back, how did you know.

“You’re not wearing a ring, Tyler. Plus you wouldn’t be apologizing if you didn’t know how it felt, men don’t work like that.”

“I really am sorry, Y/n.”

“Tyler, It’s okay. I’m sorry you had to feel what it’s like but I just hope you grow from this. I hope you realize what this all means and you grow up and the next time you find someone, you keep her and treat her right…” You were smiling sadly at him, no malicious or anger.

“What if ‘the next time’ is standing in front of me.” You bite your lip hard, you would always have a soft spot for Tyler Seguin but enough was enough.

“I’m sorry Tyler. I’m seeing someone…” You watched the small smile fall and the confusion grace his face.

“I- uh, who is he?” You never heard Tyler stutter before.

“He’s a guy I met through school. He’s nice and funny…”

“Does he treat you well?” You glanced at him.

“Yeah, Tyler. He does. He makes me happy.” You could see the heartbreak in his eyes. You didn’t want to hurt him, despite all he put you through, you still didn’t want to hurt him but you needed to end this.

“I used to hope to run into you, Tyler. I would hope you’d run into me and we’d talk and you’d tell me you made a big mistake…” Tyler went to say something but you shook your head.

“I missed you every day after that night. I missed our texts, our phone calls, I missed watching you play hockey funny enough I still watch it because he’s a Colorado fan. But I missed your tattoos, I missed your laugh. And then one morning I woke up and I didn’t miss you anymore, I didn’t think about you, I didn’t hope, Tyler.” His breathing was ragged and he wanted to walk away and forget this ever happened.

“I knew what I was getting myself into Tyler, when I dated you. You loved to party, constantly had girls around you but I trusted you with everything in me and you threw that away.” Your voice was soft, no harshness detected.

“I loved you so much.  I loved the future we had planned, I loved you. And I will always have love for you. But you broke me Tyler in ways no one else ever had and I’m sorry McKayla hurt you. But I’m happy now Tyler and I won’t apologize for that.” You glanced down at Bella who was laying at your feet and then back up at him, his eyes rimmed red and his hand clutching his phone.

“We adopted her together, we live together, Tyler. I won’t go down this road with you again. I healed, maybe it’s time you do the same.” He blinked back the tears at the rejection.

“I won’t be yours again, but I hope you find someone that will. I hope you find a girl who is going to love you and support you. I hope she loves your dogs unconditionally-” He remembered the last time you told him something similar but this time around instead of sadness and hurt, your voice was filled with hope and empathy.

“She’ll treat your family how they should be treated and I hope she makes you happy. I hope you find her and I know you will, Tyler. Because you’ve never had problems in that department.” Both of you let out a small laugh.

“But when you find her, Ty. I hope you treat her right, I hope you learned your lesson and keep her close and for any reason I hope you never let her go. Let her in, let her see you, Tyler. Because despite everything I think there’s a good guy in there, he just wasn’t ready for commitment. But I hope when she finds you, you are.” Tyler looked at you and you could feel it in your bones, this was a final goodbye. He shook his head.

“You were it,” You smiled at him.

“If I was it, you wouldn’t have done what you did, Tyler. Love wasn’t enough this time around and that’s okay.” You stepped a bit closer to him and leaned in to kiss his cheek, his body spray and aftershave hitting you bringing back memories.

“You’re going to be okay, Tyler. But this is it, I won’t be seeing you again.” You pulled away and motioned for Bella to follow you which he puppy happily did.

“Goodbye, Tyler Seguin. I hope you get everything you want in life and more.” Tyler watched you walk away and he could feel his heart break. Tyler took in a breath and closed his eyes, glancing back, he collected himself.

“Goodbye, Y/n.” And Tyler knew it would be for the last time.

[hilarioushilarity]

(not) lost in translation pt. 2

{I am a lying liar who lies, 2-3 days my ass. You can read Part 1 here.}

The second time Alexei meets Kent Parson is at the All Star weekend that season.

When Mama and Papa had flown back to Russia, Alexei had rapidly realised that he was effectively a thousand miles away from everything he had ever known, and that:

1) Nobody around him spoke Russian; and 2) He couldn't speak English.

Alexei hates English. With a passion. He's not stupid enough to tell anyone this particular fact, but he thinks it every time he sits down for his English classes and wrestles with prepositions and adverbs, or heaven forbid, attempts to conjugate a verb. Every rule had a million exceptions, so what was even the point of the rule? English as a language was just unfair, he had decided, and he tells Mama this over the phone one month in.

She is sympathetic, in her typical Spartan manner. "You'll learn," she tells him. "Practise for at least three hours every day."

Alexei is appalled. "Mama, when am I meant to get three hours of practice each day?"

"There is always time."

He honestly doesn't know what else he expected. "Okay Mama," he says, and then turns the conversation to how stupidly big portion sizes were in America. Criticising the diets of North Americans was always guaranteed to catch her attention.

To his dismay, his father just laughs at him.

"Papa." Alexei may or may not be whining.

"Your Mama told you to just find time, didn't she," he says, when he's finally stopped cackling for long enough to take a breath.

Alexei hangs up on him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Papa says, when he calls back a minute later. The wheezing laughs have stopped, which is a relief.

"Okay," Alexei says warily.

"I mean it." His father is abruptly serious. "I'm sorry for laughing, you're in a tough situation right now. English is not an easy language to learn." They both know that his father never truly gained fluency in it - never had the chance to need it.

"It's really hard, Papa." He doesn't think he's just talking about English anymore.

"Things worth doing usually are, Alyosha," his father says gently.

Alexei chews his lip. "I don't know if I'm doing anything right."

"Are you playing good hockey?" Papa asks.

"Yes, Papa."

"You aren't bullying anyone on the ice?"

"No -"

"Working hard? Doing your English lessons? Going to all your practices on time, practising anything your coach says you need to work on?"

"Yes -"

"Then you are doing it right. And I am proud of you."

His father's voice is warm, and it curls around Alexei. He suddenly, desperately, wishes he could hug his father tightly. "Okay Papa."

"Now go and practice your English," Papa says, and Alexei does.

So hockey is the only thing he has besides torturous English lessons, and he devotes himself to it. He racks up goals and assists every game, plays a clean defensive game, and keeps his stats glowing. English smalltalk remains his nemesis but he's getting there, one pleasantry at a time. Before he knows it, he's being invited to the All Stars Weekend. He dithers over the invite for a few days, until the head of Capitals PR eventually corners him on his way out of the locker rooms.

"You should go," LaRue tells him. "It's good for building up your fanbase." He continues to go on at depth about social media presences and ticket sales. Alexei dutifully nods his way through the lecture, and ends up promising to go just to escape.

For some unknown sin in this life or a past one, he is roomed with a D-man from the Aeros who talks loudly and snores louder than a chainsaw. Alexei realises this on the first night when he lays in bed, staring at the ceiling as the red digits on the bedside clock tick over from 11 to 12, then 1. There's a snore once every three seconds, accompanied by whistling through some gap between teeth. Alexei kills half an hour searching up English sayings to describe snoring and deciding that his roommate "snores like a foghorn" before he finally gives up and rolls out of bed.

The hotel they've been put up in has an indoor gym and swimming pool. Alexei slings on a towel, sneaking out of the room before taking the lift down. On first glance, the gym is deserted, because any sane person is currently asleep. Alexei, running on no sleep, does not qualify.

Except, when he's halfway through his reps on the elliptical, a quiet voice behind him says: "Um. Hi, Alexei?"

Alexei turns around and comes face to face with Kent Parson.

What they are is nebulous at best. More than acquaintances - Kent Parson had talked to his Mama and Papa and his Mama had said Kent was a Very Nice Person. But less than friends, certainly. After the draft, Kent had gone west to the Aces and Alexei had gone east to the Capitals. He hasn't really kept track of Kent's career, but he would have to be under an actual rock to not know Kent is the only other rookie at the All Stars weekend and the NHL's current leading scorer.

"Hello," Alexei replies. There's a drop of sweat slowly rolling down his face and he's painfully aware that he probably stinks a little.  Meanwhile Kent Parson looks fresh as a daisy at one in the morning. The limits of his smalltalking abilities in English remain breathtakingly small despite the benefit of six months of English tutoring, so he kind of hopes Kent takes pity on his poor, sweaty form.

Kent does not. "It's been a while. Good to see you."

Goddamnit, they're smalltalking. "Good to see you, too."

Kent looks unbothered at the lack of scintillating conversation. He rolls onto the balls of his feet, fiddling with the strap of the duffel slung over his shoulder. "So uh. How's your mum?" he says, then immediately blanches. "Shit. I didn't mean - I just -"

"Good," Alexei says, mostly to put him out of his misery. "She good."

Kent looks earnest. "Oh, that's really good to hear." And then he seems to waver a bit.

"How is family?" Alexei says, when the silence stretches on. "They come visit after draft?"

"Ah yeah." Kent visibly brightens up. "They did! It was great, we had dinner and hung out a bit, and I gave my sister your mum's autograph - she's so cool by the way, but I bet you already knew that - I'd love to thank her again."

There are just - so many words. Alexei takes a few seconds to work through the sentence. "Glad to hear sister like. Maybe you see Mama again at game with Aces?"

"Definitely," Kent says, and Alexei's heard so many people say that over the past six months, but he thinks this time he could believe it. "So, uh. What's keeping you up?"

Only the loudest snorer on the entire American continent. "Roomie." Alexei searches for the words. "Snoring like foghorn."

Kent winces. "Jeez, I know what you mean. Did you try poking him to get him to roll over?"

"To scared to poke," Alexei admits. "Big guy."

"Who are you rooming with?"

"Winkler?"

"Fuck, yeah, he's a big dude. Better not poke him."

Alexei sighs. "Snore so loud - and whistle too. Like train." At Kent's blank look, he tries: "Choo choo?"

"Choo - oh god, you mean like a steam engine?"

Alexei pulls out his phone in answer. "How spell that? Steam engine?" He dutifully plugs in the letters Kent rattles off, and hits translate. "Oh. Yes. He steam engine."

"Heh," Kent says. "I double dog dare you to say that to him." He must catch the look of utter incomprehension on Alexei's face, because he quickly backtracks. "Not up with the slang yet? Sorry. I meant, you should tell him that."

"But why?" Alexei doesn't want to get punched.

"As a joke," Kent adds hastily. "It's funny, because we know it's stupid so we wouldn't do it."

English was just ridiculous. "Okay," Alexei tries. "Double dog dare you cycle on elliptical, see who faster."

"That's not..." Kent trails off. He smiles, then shakes his head. "That's not how it works. But we'll work on it," he assures Alexei, with a firm pat on his shoulder.

It's worlds away from the way the Caps' coach tends to roll his eyes heavenward when Alexei goes left when he should go right, or his English tutor, who is nice enough but is prone to banging her head against the table a little when Alexei fumbles the conjugation on a verb. "Not now," Alexei says. "Later?"

Kent checks his watch and he actually looks surprised, like the complete lack of other people didn't clue him in. "Wow, it's pretty late, isn't it?"

Unbelievable. "Why you up?"

"Got caught up practising."

Alexei sideeyes him. "Practising?"

Kent flushes a little. "Practising my stick handling. Shooting accuracy."

Alexei can't help but boggle at him. "You practising? At 1AM?"

"I couldn't sleep," Kent says, a little defensively.

"You crazy," Alexei decides, but there's a lot of fondness that must be apparent to even Kent, who looks less offended than he does a mildly grumpy, like the family cat when he accidentally stepped on her tail as a child. "But you wipe ice with everyone, so you champion crazy."

"Damn straight I'm the champion crazy," Kent says, planting his hands on his hips like a dork. "Yeah, laugh it up, I'll definitely be wiping the ice with you."

Alexei pretends to cower. "Okay, Kent Parson, I try best not cry on ice then."

"You will be bawling your eyes out," Kent says with promise, and then looks so affronted when Alexei just doubles over, breathless with laughter.

"I believe you," Alexei says to the ground, from where he's still bent over trying to catch his breath. "Cry many tears."

"You better," Kent says, but then he's laughing helplessly too, dropping his duffel. "Oh god, I really am champion crazy."

Alexei reaches over to pat him on the back. "Is okay, still like, even if Kent Parson practice hockey at one in morning."

"You don't think I'm too crazy?" Perhaps it's meant to be joking, but Alexei can't help but look up sharply.

"Never. You think Crosby best because he slack off?"

"I don't think he's ever stayed up until 1 because he was nervous about All Stars," Kent says, then bites his lip.

"You nervous?" Alexei asks. Kent hesitates. "Why you nervous?"

"I just - it's been a lot," Kent finally says. He's looking to the side, staring at the elliptical. Alexei waits, and Kent says in a rush: "I feel like I have to be the best, or - or else -"

"Not have to say what," Alexei says gently. "Not make you say."

Kent scowls. "It's stupid. Everyone's thinking it, they just don't say it. That I'm the second choice."

At the Draft, Alexei had known vaguely that Kent Parson and another boy called Jack Zimmermann had widely been slated to go first and second - in either order. It was true that every analyst had put the latter in first place, and that when Aces called Kent Parson's name there had been a slight pause in the audience's murmuring. Kent's smile had been strained as he left their table.

Alexei's stood across from Kent on the ice before. He's watched countless hours of tape of the Aces' play and by proxy, of Kent. Kent Parson on the ice is a force of nature, skating circles around defence and sinking pucks into the net as easy as breathing. And in his heart of hearts, he thinks the margin between first and second had been far smaller than most people thought.

But now, under the harsh gym lights that highlight the remaining softness of his jaw and the dark patches beneath his eyes, Alexei realises that Kent's still just a kid. Alexei's just a kid. They're both just teenagers. And there's very little of the player who had breezed past Alexei at the last Caps game with the Aces, or of the player who had mercilessly crushed their four game winning streak without batting an eye. Under the padding and past all the hype, Kent was far from the figure he cut on ice and as vulnerable as any other human.

"Even if people say second choice, what matter?" Alexei says. "You first. You here now. Play well. Maybe bit annoy on ice but not bully. And seem nice, polite to Mama. Thinking of sister even at draft. Get autograph for her. That matter. Not other people."

He hopes he hasn't overdone it - perhaps Kent wasn't looking for a heart-to-heart in the hotel gym at 1AM. But instead of taken aback Kent looks - a little watery.

"Why you cry?" Alexei is horrified.

"I'm not crying," Kent sniffs. "I'm not."

Alexei bites his tongue. "Uh okay." He politely looks away as Kent wipes his eyes.

"I'm not saying I can't cry," Kent begins, which Alexei takes as his cue that it's safe to look back at him. His eyes are just slightest bit red, and even that's only if you know what to look for.  “I just try not to cry in front of others.”

"Okay," Alexei says cautiously.

Kent takes a deep breath. "Thank you."

"Welcome," Alexei replies automatically, then says: "But. For what?"

Kent stares at him. "For - listening? For not being an asshole about the fact I'm still some nervy rookie?"

Christ. People thanked each other for things like that in America? "No need thank," Alexei says. Then, desperate to change the subject, he adds: "So we agree! No need for nervous! You real KVP."

"The what?"

"KVP." Alexei gestures. "I see on Twitter - they calling you 'the Real KVP'".

"That's not - " Kent splutters. "That's my name, Alexei."

Alexei tries not wince. "Oh. Oops, sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" Kent brings out his phone, thumbing at something on the screen. He eventually holds out his phone, open to a websearch. "See? It's a joke on MVP. That's 'Most Valuable Player'."

"Oh," Alexei says again. "Make sense. Sometimes miss reference - thank you for explaining."

Kent stows away his phone, corners of his mouth twitching upwards again. "You've only been in the US for what, six months? Your English is great. If you put me in Russia I would probably just turn around and go back to the US."

"You miss good food then," Alexei tuts. "Russian food is best food."

"Hell no, I've seen what you guys count as soup. I'm not touching borscht with a ten-foot pole."

"Borscht is best soup!" Alexei tries to sound outraged.

"Look man, all I'm saying is that anything that pink should not be eaten."

Blasphemy. "You try pirozhki then? Small, baked -" He gropes around for the word, then gives up and calls up the translator app on his phone. "Dumpling."

"I've never had that," Kent says, but he at least looks intrigued. "What did you call it? Pay-roz-kay?"

His accent is actually appalling. "Pirozhki," Alexei corrects.

Kent frowns. "Poe-roz-ki?"

"Pirozhki"

"Poh-rosh-ki?"

Alexei nods in approval. "Good, sounds good."

"I like the sound of baked dumplings," Kent says. "Mm. Pirozkhi. I might go see if there's any places that do it in Vegas."

"Let me know if yes." Alexei nudges him. "I come try when Caps play Aces."

"You got it."

Alexei cuts off any further conversation with the embarrassingly loud yawn that escapes him then.

"Shit, it's like 1:30AM." Kent winces. "We have to get up at like 7 tomorrow - today? Holy crap we better go to sleep."

Alexei levers himself up, gathering his towel and bottle. "Hope not fall asleep on skates tomorrow."

"How about I check you if I see you dropping off," Kent suggests, then snickers at Alexei's raised eyebrow. "Bad idea?"

"Sure can check me?" Alexei makes a show of looking Kent up and down. He holds his index finger and thumb about ten centimetres apart. "So small."

"You asshole," Kent says, but he's laughing. "I'm not short, you're just a giant."

"If say so," Alexei shrugs. They start towards the elevator banks. "If help sleep at night."

"Fuck you, I sleep really well at night," Kent says petulantly. Alexei eyes the shadows beneath his eyes.

"I believe, I believe," he says instead with his best shit-eating grin. They get in the lift. "Okay, floor?"

Kent reaches over and pushes the button for 15. "You?"

"Twelve. Thank you." Kent nods, and they start moving up.

"So see you tomorrow, yes?"

"Yeah." Kent shoulders his duffel a little more firmly. "Be prepared to cry like a baby."

Alexei flaps his hands, just as the lift doors open on his floor. "Yeah, yeah, I cry so much."

The smile Kent gives him is small, but very real. "Good night Alexei."

"Good night," Alexei says, stepping out and turning to wave goodbye. The doors shut on Kent's smile, and Alexei stands there for a second, the airconditioning cool against his slightly sweaty neck.

"Hopefully not cry too much," he says to himself, before heading back to his room.

[shadowywerewolfqueen]

Hunting A Dragon

Didn’t have a chance to post this yesterday, so here it is!

“I’ll pay you handsomely if you get rid of the dragon that lives on the edge of my kingdom,” king Crowley said from his throne.

“How handsomely?” Dean asked with a smirk.

“Enough to own your own small castle,” the king replied.

“I guess you got yourself a deal. Any reason you want it gone?” Dean asked, not that he actually cared. He was only concerned with the small fortune he was about to make.

“That’s none of your business knight. I’m not paying you to ask questions, I’m paying you to get rid of dragons,” the king snapped.

Dean ground his teeth together in agitation. He plastered a fake smile on his face. “Of course, your majesty. I shall return when the deed is done.” Dean turned on his heel and walked from the throne room.

He hurried out the castle, hating the stuffy feeling that palace life always gave him. He enjoyed wide open spaces and freedom rather than gold and finery. He walked out the doors and took in a deep breath of fresh air. He grinned when he heard Chevy’s whinny at seeing him. He walked over to the large black mare and petted her forehead affectionately. “Hey baby, you miss me?” He asked as he pulled a few carrots from his saddle bag and fed them to her. Once she had eaten the last bite, Dean untied her reins from the post and hoisted himself into the saddle.

He patted her neck as she started walking out the courtyard back to the inn. He would need to grab his supplies and gear from his room before starting on his journey to the outskirts of Crowley’s kingdom. He knew the area well and internally moaned at the five-day journey ahead of him. He decided to stop by the marketplace as well to stock up on provisions.

After enjoying one last hot meal and flirting with the bartender, Dean headed out on his trek. Thankfully, the weather was mild this time of year and the days weren’t overly hot, and the nights were clear of rain. He made good time and ended up arriving to his destination a day earlier than planned.

The sun was setting by the time Dean stopped and he decided to explore the area tomorrow. Within the hour, Dean had a fire going and a freshly caught rabbit roasting over it. Chevy grazed a few yards away; Dean completely at ease with letting her roam free. He took a gulp of water from his canteen and stilled as heard the crack of a stick.

His hand dropped to his sword as he scanned the area around him. He was surprised when he saw a man walking towards him in the fading light. When the man stood just outside the glow of the campfire, he came to a halt. Dean looked him over and was stunned by his beauty. The man had thick, messy black hair and the most astonishing blue eyes Dean had ever seen. His skin seemed to be glowing and Dean assumed it was because of the campfire. He had a light stubble covering a strong jaw. Dean let his gaze wander down the man’s body and was just as impressed. The man wasn’t overly muscular, but Dean knew he had strength in his limbs.

“Hello there,” the man replied with a soft smile.

Dean eyed him curiously. “Who are you and what are you doing out here?”

The man walked closer and took a seat opposite the campfire. “My name is Castiel and I live here.”

“You what?” Dean asked incredulously. “Dude, there’s a dragon that inhabits this area.”

Castiel smirked. “I’m well aware of the dragon. I have no fear of him; we are friends of sorts.”

Dean’s mouth fell open. “You’re what? Why in the world would you be friends with a murderous beast?”

Castiel’s lips turned down in a frown and his eyes hardened. “Oh, and I’m assuming to a hunter like yourself that all dragons are murderers.”

“Well, aren’t they? I mean they kill and plunder for fun! If that’s not a monster, I don’t know what is,” Dean growled as he crossed his arms.

“I’m not saying there aren’t bad dragons; I’m just saying not all of them are bad,” Castiel snapped. “The one who lives around here has never killed or plundered anything. He lives out here because it is deserted, and it gives him the privacy he so desperately wants.”

“Well, I’ve never come across a nice dragon,” Dean retorted.

Castiel narrowed his eyes and lifted his chin slightly. “And just how many dragons have you come across?”

“Three,” Dean answered quickly.

“What were their names?” Castiel asked.

“What does it matter?” Dean argued.

“Just tell me their names hunter,” Cas growled.

“Dean, my name is Dean,” the hunter said angrily.

“Fine, Dean, tell me their names,” the other man insisted.

Dean scratched at the back of his neck as he tried to remember the names of the dragons he had struck down. “There was a big red dragon named Alistair. Another was named Lucifer; a big black brute that took me ages to finally bring down. The last one was a golden dragon named Naomi; she was a bitch that one.”

Cas relaxed visibly. “Well, it seems all the dragons you’ve killed were rather nasty and deserved to die. They cost many humans and even a few dragons their lives. I’m sorry for accusing you of wrongful murder.”

“Thanks. Believe it or not, just because I’m a hunter doesn’t mean I kill every monster I come across. If they haven’t hurt anybody, I let them go. It’s just every dragon I’ve come across and every story I’ve heard about them depicts them as murderous beasts,” Dean explained to the man.

Cas sighed. “Yes, well most of them are of the murderous beast variety, but not all of them. There are a few who just want to live a peaceful life.”

“Well, if what you say is true and this dragon has never hurt anyone, I won’t kill it. I’ll just ask it to leave the area,” Dean said as he stood up and removed the rabbit from over the fire.

Cas looked up sharply. “If the dragon has done nothing wrong, why must it leave?”

Dean pulled out a knife and started to cut the meat from the bones. “King Crowley wants the dragon gone and is going to pay me a small fortune to make that happen. If I can finish this deal, I’ll have enough money to travel overseas to be with my brother. Unlike him, I’ve never been able to get out of the hunting life even though I despise it.”

Cas tilted his head. “Why have you never been able to quit?”

“I’m not smart like my brother; I’m just a grunt. Hunting things and saving people is all I’m good for. My dad was a hunter and he forced both of us to follow in his footsteps. Sam was never cut out for the life, so he packed his stuff and got on the next ship to America. I’m hoping to be able to join him soon,” Dean described. He moved closer to Castiel and handed him a few strips of the rabbit meat.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said softly as he took the meat.

“Don’t mention it. So, you really think the dragon won’t leave even if I ask it to?” Dean asked as he took a bite of the rabbit.

“Would you leave the only home you’ve ever known just so somebody can make a fast coin?” Cas shot back before taking his own bite of food.

Dean stared at the ground as he slowly chewed. “I guess not, but it never hurts to try. If the dragon says no and he hasn’t hurt anybody, then I guess I will go back to the king and tell him I am breaking his deal.”

“But if you don’t get the dragon to leave, you’ll be separated from your brother for even longer,” Cas pointed out.

Dean shrugged. “Yeah I know but getting to see him isn’t worth killing an innocent for. I’ll figure out another way to make the money.”

“You’re the most honorable hunter I’ve ever met Dean. Most would only be concerned with stuffing their own pockets and wouldn’t care about the creature they are hunting.” Cas fell silent as he took another bite of rabbit.

“Yeah, what can I say? I’m a hunter with a conscious,” Dean replied with a chuckle.

“You certainly are.” Cas finished his rabbit and stood to his feet. “Well, I must be going. I hope to see you again before you leave Dean.”

Dean looked up at him and smiled. “Yeah, you too Cas. Tell your dragon friend I said hi and I’d like to talk to him tomorrow.”

“I shall relay the message,” Cas answered before walking off and disappearing into the night.

Dean didn’t stay up much longer once he finished his dinner. He checked on Chevy one last time before curling underneath his furs and going to sleep. His sleep was haunted blue eyes and a deep voice.

Dean was startled awake when the ground beneath him shook violently. He jolted from his furs, his sword already in hand. He froze when his eyes came to rest on the giant creature in front of him. “Oh shit,” he cursed as he stared at the dragon.

The beast was easily five times Dean’s height and nearly ten times as long. The scales were a deep blue and they shimmered in the early morning light. A large pair of leathery wings were folded against the dragon’s sides. He had a large sail running from the top of his head down to the base of his neck, thick spines every few feet that the skin of the sail attached to. He had a large pair of horns that started just behind his eyes and pointed straight back.

Dean swallowed thickly before saying, “So, I guess you’re the dragon that lives around here.”

The creature nodded his head once. He slowly laid down, wrapping his tail around himself. He lowered his head until it was level with Dean. The hunter stared into a large pair of sapphire blue eyes.

The dreams from the night before rushed to the forefront of Dean’s mind. His eyes widened in shock. “Cas,” he said, voice full of surprise.

“Hello Dean,” Castiel replied.

Dean’s legs gave out beneath him and he crumpled to the ground. Immediately, a clawed foot was reaching out to help him back to his feet. Dean was still shaky and leaned against Cas’ foot for support. He continued to stare, not knowing what to say.

“I did tell you the dragon and I were friends.”

“Yeah,” Dean huffed. “I would say you’re friends. I didn’t even know dragons could shapeshift.”

“Most don’t anymore, saying that our human form is weak and unbecoming. I love both of my forms equally.” The dragon paused before adding, “I meant what I said last night Dean. I’ve never hurt anyone. Crowley doesn’t want me here because I’ve made my home in a mine full of gemstones. He and I have a blood contract that states he will not kill me, so he is trying to find another way to get me to leave.”

“Why do you have a contract in the first place?”

“My brother Lucifer used to inhabit these lands and I managed to defeat him and run him out,” Cas explained.

“Shit, Lucifer,” Dean exclaimed.

“It’s ok Dean, I’m not mad that you killed him. He was a horrible being and deserved his fate. I feel no sympathy or remorse for him. The world is a much better place without him, Alistair, and Naomi,” Cas said with a firm finality.

“Ok then.” Dean looked at his camp and then back to the dragon. He slowly pulled himself away from the warm scales and walked over to the campfire. He kicked some dirt on it and watched it splutter out. He started packing his supplies and whistled for Chevy. He heard a nicker in the distance, her signal that she heard him.

“Dean, what are you doing?” The hunter turned around to see Cas in his human form, staring at Dean with confusion. “What’s it look like Cas? I’m packing up.”

The dragon shook his head. “Why? Do you not wish to be around me any longer now that you know what I am?”

“What, no! It’s just I need to return to the castle and tell Crowley that I won’t be the one to force you to leave. I could come back for a few days, but I’ll have to leave to find work. If I’m not hunting, I’m not getting paid,” Dean explained as he started saddling Chevy.

Dean looked up when Cas’ hand grabbed his own. “Dean, did you not hear me when I explained where I lived?”

“Yeah, a cave full of gemstones. What does it matter? You said last night you wouldn’t be willing to leave this place and I wouldn’t ask that of you.” Dean pulled his hand free and finished saddling his horse.

Cas rolled his eyes. “Are you always this dense?” Dean glared at him. “Dean, I can give you some of the gemstones from the cave to sell to earn enough money to go to your brother.”

“What, no, I would never ask that of you! They are yours,” Dean argued.

“Honestly, I’m not a collector of gems. I prefer my books and souvenirs from my worldly travels. I chose the cave because it looks pretty, but I’m not unwilling to part with some of the stones. Besides, I’m not sure how much longer I will call it home.” Cas dropped his gaze to the ground.

“Why would you leave this place? You said last night you wouldn’t,” Dean stated. “You also said you enjoyed your privacy.”

“You’re right. Never before have I considered leaving my home because I never had a reason. But now, I might,” Cas said as he lifted his gaze back to Dean, his cheeks stained a bright red.

“Cas, no, you don’t want me. I’ve got nothing to offer you. I told you, I’m just a grunt. Sam’s the smart one of the family,” Dean said as he backed away.

“Don’t say that about yourself. I have the ability to see souls and your soul is the brightest I’ve ever seen Dean. It attracts me like a moth to flame. I have lived most of my life alone and I’ve grown incredibly lonely. Last night, you proved you’re not like other hunters. You could have killed me and yet you haven’t even attempted to do so.” Cas stepped back into Dean’s personal space. “I’d really like to get the chance to know you Dean.”

Dean huffed. “I would be the hunter who falls for a dragon,” he muttered before leaning forward and lightly pressing his lips against Cas’. That was just the start of Cas and Dean’s love story.

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