#I was struck with a hint of inspiration last night apparently

[writerfae]

Wow, I wrote something. And it’s even canon!

Well, of course it won’t be in the story word for word, but it’s a scene that somehow like this will be included. Yay!

Takes place after Aiden got freed from the Knights.

The night was full of stars and the surface of the starlight lake, too, was littered with the sparkling reflections of the same bright lights that decorated the dark sky.

Aiden sighed as he lowered himself deeper into the water, the cool sensation a boon for his heated skin.

It felt good to wash off the dirt from the last couple days. And to get a few minutes of quiet to clear his head.

He had always hated to be alone, but after the last few hours he almost found himself missing it.

His head was brimming with all the informations he was confronted with, with thoughts of his mother, his brother, of the insanity he found himself in.

Never would he have expected such a mess when he followed Halea into the other realm to find Henry.

Find him he did, but he also found so much more. It was almost too much to handle.

Aiden wanted to run. He genuinely planned to do so, to leave everything behind and go home to hide from the truth he learned.

And then the Knights had captured him and everything changed yet again.

With what he knew now, he couldn’t possibly leave. He had to warn Henry. To help him and the others.

He lifted his hand and let the water slip through his fingers. The water made his skin sparkle just like the stars above.

Whether he liked it or not, he was now right in the middle of this whole disaster and he had his part to fulfill. People were relying on him to help and stop Morena.

Only he could do it. After all, the sword had chosen him. After all, it was in his blood.

He stared at his fingers, at the starlight on his skin, then he clenched his hand into a fist.

Yes, he would stop this. He’ll warn Henry, stop the madness and when all of this was done, the two of them could talk.

When they survived, whispered a voice in his head, but Aiden decided to ignore it.

He wasn’t alone anymore. He stood a chance. They stood a chance. If only they worked together.

“Aiden,” a voice called to him. As he looked over his shoulder, he could see Talon standing at the lake side.

Moonlight caught itself in his light hair and made it shine almost like a saint’s halo, which was an irony Aiden didn’t miss out on.

He slowly rose from the water, making his way over to the other boy.

When the water barely reached his navel, he stopped, suddenly realizing that he was very much naked underneath the water surface.

Not that Talon would have noticed it if Aiden had broken the rules of modesty, since he still refused to look at him.

Aiden wondered when he’ll ever have the courage to meet him eye to eye.

“You should come,” Talon said, eyes lowered, his voice barely loud enough so Aiden could hear.

“Get some rest before we make our way back to court. Nyx says we are safe here, but we should make sure to leave before sunrise if we want to be there before them.”

Aiden nodded. “I will. Give me a second to uh…” he looked down at himself. “get dressed.”

Talon didn’t say anything to that. He just nodded quickly, before turning around a bit too fast and making his way back to the bonfire.

Did Aiden only imagine it, or did the fae’s ears seem a little red in the light of the moon?

He shook that thought off and made his way to the water’s edge to gather his clothes.

Talon was right, he’d need some rest. They had a long day ahead.

*

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[scribbles97]

Do Better

Oh look... Scribbs is back and writing Thunderbirds again that isn't the mammoth Lucy fic as you may have seen I rewatched the '04 film last night and inspiration struck the muse and, well, this happened...

Read on Ao3

It shouldn’t have been a surprise when Alan had asked about his mother aboard Thunderbird Two, but in the moment it had caught Jeff off guard. Given everything that the Hood had put them through that day, all the snide comments and remarks he had made about their organisation, Jeff would have likely seen it coming eventually. He just would have liked to have recovered from their rough re-entry to earth and the damage caused to their home first.

Had he had the chance to mull over the day as a whole, he’d have likely seen the question coming, perhaps even been able to pre-empt it. Instead, it had been over a week and nothing more had been said in relation to Lucy.

He had asked John about it quietly, when the others had been away to their beds and he had bumped into the second eldest hunting down extra painkillers in the kitchen. A long overdue conversation had followed, how they all missed their mother but had been too fearful of hurting one another to ever say much about her. Alan had never really known her, and it had taken Jeff himself a long time to even look back at the photos that decorated his desk, the other four had marked the subject taboo and Jeff had never even noticed.

It was a testament to his and John’s relationship that he hadn’t blinked when Jeff had called him out on his comment about ‘doing a great job’ the night Alan had arrived home for spring break. Instead his fellow astronaut had laughed with a slight wince as his ribs had protested, before explaining that he had known what Jeff had needed to hear that night, and it hadn’t been criticism of his parenting style.

What it also hadn’t apparently been, was a lie, John had quickly assured.

“We should talk about her more.” Had been his closing comment when he had risen to his feet to head to his room, the hint too strong for Jeff to really ignore.

He hadn’t gone to bed that night, instead hunting through storage boxes that he had never been sure about opening back up.

It had taken him another week to find the right time, between repairing the damage caused by the Hood and filing reports to the appropriate authorities; the moment had never seemed right to bring up something that had laid dormant for so long.

The bruises were mostly healed though, and the house mostly back to normal, the parts for repairing the hangars and Thunderbird Five would take a few more weeks to arrive, but that was the least of Jeff’s worries given all they had been through. He had planned to bring it up after the barbeque, once they had all settled out on the pool deck with their newly fledged members.

As always though, the world had other ideas.

A request for aid after a space shuttle launch had gone awry had seen all the boys away from home late into the night, and all plenty exhausted by the time they had made it back home.

It hadn’t been until well into the next afternoon that he had bumped into Alan in the hallway between their rooms,

“Alan, you got a minute?”

His eyes immediately went wide as he gaped, “I didn’t—“

Jeff shook his head, holding up both hands, it was so like the kid to assume that something was wrong, that he had done something wrong. He knew it was down to how he had parented the kid over the last few years, sending him away to private school and ignoring the loud and clear cries for attention that Alan had so desperately needed.

“You did a great job out there yesterday,” He assured quickly, reaching out to catch the kid’s shoulder, “but that’s not what this is about.”

“It’s… not?”

Jeff paused, suddenly very aware of how badly he could read Alan’s expression, “Did something happen out there that wasn’t discussed at debrief?”

The kid gaped, eyes still panicked as he clearly tried to figure out just how to explain, “I-- it wasn’t--”

None of them had said anything in the early hours as they had quickly run through a debrief, Virgil had sung Alan’s praises in his co-piloting aboard Two with next to no snark aimed towards the youngest.

“I told Virgil his approach to the viewing platform was the wrong angle, he told me not to distract him when he was dealing with the cross-winds.”

Jeff paused for a moment, thinking through the implications and trying to figure out what Alan wasn’t telling him, “Did he listen to you?”

Alan shrugged, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. You’re part of this team now kid, your opinion matters too and we all need to learn to respect that.” He reached out to clasp his other shoulder, “I’m sorry we’ve not been better at listening to you.”

Alan gaped again, words not forming for a long moment before he simply looked down to the floor.

Jeff swallowed and took his moment, “What I wanted to talk to you about was your Mom, you made me realise the other week that I’ve not shared her with you anywhere near enough.”

“I didn’t mean--” He looked up quickly, “Scott always said it hurt too much to talk about her.”

“It did.” He admitted softly, “But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t. I dug out some old photos and videos if you wanted to take a look?”

Alan’s smile was soft in a way that was all Lucy as he looked up to Jeff, “Can I?”

“I’ll even tell you some stories if you’d like?” He smiled back, “On one condition though?”

It hurt that his face fell so quickly back into fear.

“I want to know what’s been going on at school and why you’re so desperate to not go back.”

The hallway wasn’t really the place for such a conversation, not with how Alan was reacting to every question Jeff found himself asking. Jeff didn’t doubt that anyone passing through could easily break the moment and cause Alan to brush everything off as fine.

As far as Jeff was concerned, things hadn’t been fine for a long while.

“Nobody understands me there.” Alan mumbled, his eyes dropping to the carpet again, “Everyone there thinks I’m just a spoiled kid who’s billionaire family doesn’t have time for. They don’t know me, not really.”

There was fire in the end of his words, the way his fists clenched at his sides telling Jeff it was a long bore frustration that had simmered under the surface for long enough.

“Do you think there’s any truth in that?”

He almost feared the answer.

“I--” Alan looked up, anger flickering in his features that was as obvious as his mother’s always had been, before it faded, “You’re all so busy with the business and International Rescue, it’s okay, I get it.”

“But you’re my kid.” He found himself countering before he could really put any thought into it, “What’s going on in your life is always going to be important to me. Why do you think I came running when I heard about the fire at Dunbar?”

Alan shrugged, a heavy sigh pulling his shoulders further down as he looked around the hallway, anywhere but at Jeff.

“I thought you were mad.”

And he had been.

But he’d also been scared.

“I was.” He admitted, “But only once I knew you were safe.”

“I didn’t mean for it to explode.”

There was a wobble in the kid’s voice that Jeff hadn’t been privy to for years.

“I know you didn’t, kid.” He sighed, catching his chin, waiting for him to look back at him, “And I’m sorry I’ve not been better at talking to you.”

For letting every shrugged comment about school slide, for not listening when he was screaming for help, for not being there to talk when he should have been.

“Come here.” Jeff sighed, offering a hug that Alan gladly accepted.

He wasn’t sure when the youngest had gotten so tall or when his shoulders had filled out quite so much, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still hold onto him like the little boy he once had been.

“I’m going to do better, I promise you that Alan.”

Neither acknowledged as he clung on tighter to Jeff’s t-shirt, both just taking the moment for what it was and savouring it.

If Alan heard John slip out of his room, he didn’t acknowledge it, the second eldest only paused long enough to send a knowing look in Jeff’s direction like he had known all along that some bridges needed mending. Jeff didn’t put it past him, he’d always been intelligent like that.

“Can we go and look at those photos now?” Alan asked as he pulled back, swiping at his nose as he did.

Jeff smiled, “Absolutely.”

There would still be repairs to be made, branches to be offered across a chasm that had grown too wide, but it was a start. He knew he’d fail again, probably sooner than he would like to, but he was willing to learn and to do his best.

For himself, his boys, and his wife, Jeff Tracy would do better.

[erin-bo-berin]

A Game of Chess

MASTERLIST

This was an anon request to write a fic that involved Spencer’s childhood friend Ethan that appeared in season 2′s episode Jones. To the anon who requested this, I’m so sorry it took so long to write, but I seemed to have trouble getting this fic perfect. But finally, I tweaked it and molded it into a story I’m proud of and really like how it turned out. Shoutout to the wonderful @multifandommandy​ for helping me with the inspiration for the unsub in this fic. With her suggestion of using the real Axeman of New Orleans from the 1900′s, the unsub in this fic was born. I hope you guys enjoy this fic. Enjoy some sassy, jealous Spencer. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut)

Word Count: 6,907

New Orleans. 

Home of jazz, amazing food and beautiful sights.

Unfortunately, it was also the home of a current and active serial killer.

You and the rest of the Behavioral Analysis team had been called in for a serial killer running rampant in New Orleans, which meant that left little time to actually enjoy the sights.

“Remind me before we leave to take you to this jazz club I think you’d like,” your friend and coworker, Spencer nudged you with a smile.

“If we have a moment to breathe,” you groaned, taking a peek at the murder board that had already been set up by the local detectives.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make time for my favorite agent.”

He gave you a slight smile and a sly wink as he headed in the opposite direction of you to get started on some geographical profiles.

You felt a flush creep up from your neck all the way to your cheeks. It was no lie that you fancied the intelligent Dr. Reid and some days, you thought he actually reciprocated your feelings.

It felt like the two of you had been circling one another constantly for months, either pretending the feelings didn’t exist or shamelessly flirting with one another. At this point, you weren’t sure anything would ever happen between you two.

That still didn’t stop how flustered he could make you. Such as how he had just done.

It was something special to have his undivided attention. That was a recurring thing for you though. You always seemed to receive a more special kind of attention from him than the rest of your friends—aka the rest of the BAU team.

You were heading towards the table in front of the murder board to set down your things when JJ quite literally appeared out of nowhere by your side.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that wink,” she smirked knowingly, settling down in a seat at the head of the table.

“Don’t start,” you retorted, cutting your eyes towards her in a warning glance.

“I’m just saying,” she smirked, opening the file and flipping through it before she spoke her next words.

“It’s just a matter of time before the other shoe drops.”

Whatever that meant.

•

You hooligans think you can catch me, but you can’t. You won’t. I’m much more cunning than you think.

You’ve found victims one, two and three. What about four, five and six? Seven? Maybe they exist, maybe they will exist soon. That’s for me to know and you to find out. If I wanted to, I could slay thousands of your best citizens, for I am in close relationship with the Angel of Death.

“Well, that’s not chilling at all,” you muttered.

A letter had been sent to the NOLA police department, apparently from the killer himself. He was taunting them and your team, that much you knew.

“Definitely a narcissist,” Rossi said, relaying your thoughts, “He thinks he’s untouchable.”

“Not to mention he actually took a line from the infamous Axeman of New Orleans case,” Spencer pointed out.

Everyone blinked at him, clueless.

“The Axeman was a serial killer from May 1918 to October 1919 here in New Orleans. He was never caught, but he typically murdered couples with an axe; axes that belonged to the victims. It’s similar to our current unsub although he’s killing women with an axe. That’s actually kind of similar to the Axeman because he did actually slay a few single victims, some being female and-”

Spencer paused, noticing the entire team staring at him, once again.

“I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“Just a bit,” you nodded, holding back a grin.

Once the boy got started on something, it was hard to get him to stop. Or not talk 100 mph.

“Is this guy a genius or something? I didn’t even know about that serial killer,” the local detective, named Valadez, whispered to you as Spencer started back up and more to the point.

“You get used to it, trust me,” you grinned.

“The Axeman actually sent a few letters of his own,” Spencer said, looking at the copy of the letter, examining it, “He quite literally copied one sentence word for word.”

“Which one would that be?” Tara asked.

“I could slay a thousand of your best citizens, for I am in close relationship with the Angel of Death,” Spencer read.

“That’s the copied line?” Emily asked.

“Yeah,” Spencer answered distractedly, still studying the writing, “From the Axeman’s letter on March 13th, 1919.”

“So is this just a copycat?” Matt asked.

“I don’t think so,” Spencer answered, “Although the similarities shouldn’t be ignored. He kills women with axes and then sends a letter that has a line that’s verbatim for what the Axeman said.”

“So maybe he’s getting his inspiration from this Axeman guy?” JJ questioned.

“It’s possible,” Spencer nodded.

Spencer was totally in the zone, looking at the writing, tongue poked out of the side of his mouth.

“At most, he has an ego that needs to be stroked,” you said, “There will definitely be more victims.”

“Victim three, Raquel Clayton was discovered outside a jazz club,” Detective Valadez said, studying the murder board.

Spencer’s head jerked up.

“Did you say jazz club?”

“Yeah, does that mean something to you?” Luke asked, curious.

“The Axeman also mentioned in said letter he would spare anyone that was listening to jazz music on a specific night. That night the entire town had dance halls filled with people listening to jazz music. Either his motive is somehow related to this or this guy is just fascinated by the Axeman case. What jazz club was it?”

You were glancing over the detective’s shoulder, reading the file. The name struck you as one you’d just heard earlier in the day. With a smirk, you looked at Spencer.

“Up for a trip to your favorite jazz club?”

•

“It doesn’t surprise me that I managed to actually bring you here, but under the fact of work circumstances,” Spencer grumbled.

“Hey, we’re here aren’t we? We can enjoy a little music while we ask around and see if anyone has seen anything.”

The club was darkly lit, but was filled with soothing sounds of jazz music. You could see why Spencer liked it here.

“The music is pretty.”

“It is, isn’t it?” he agreed.

You stood for a few moments more taking in the pleasant sights and sounds around you before sighing.

“Guess we better get to work, huh?”

Spencer nodded.

“You start with the bartender and workers around there, I’ll start at the back. I’ll meet up with you later,” Spencer said.

You nodded and headed off to start your first rounds of questioning.

-

An hour later you met a disheartened Spencer. He’d had no more luck than you had. No one had seen anyone suspicious, no one had seen anything, there wasn’t even the first hint of who a suspect was.

This guy seemed to be as invisible as the real Axeman.

“Maybe Jazz was just a coincidence?” Spencer asked.

“You know as well as I do, that there’s no such thing as coincidences in our line of work,” you commented.

He was about to say something when a voice interrupted him.

“Reid, is that you?!”

You and Spencer turned to see a tall man, roughly the same age as Spencer with dark hair and dark eyes. His long beard would’ve been unruly on anyone else, but on this man it seemed to fit him perfectly.

“Ethan?” Spencer’s face lit up, as he hugged the guy.

“It’s been quite a long time since I’ve seen you. What’s it been? 13 years?”

“About,” Spencer nodded, “I didn’t know you were still here in New Orleans.”

“I just got back after some traveling. You can take the boy out of New Orleans but you can’t take New Orleans out of the boy.”

You watched the exchange back and forth, smiling politely.

“Are you gonna introduce me, Spencer?” you asked.

“Well, does Reid here have a girlfriend? Cause if so, he sure does have mighty fine taste,” the man said.

“No, he’s not my boyfriend,” you chuckled, “I’m his partner.”

You held out your hand.

“Supervisory Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N. But you can just call me Y/N.”

He smiled, shaking your hand.

“Reid, you didn’t tell me the FBI had such beautiful girls like Y/N here. If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have dropped out of the FBI so long ago.”

You smiled bashfully as you dropped your hand from his.

“Y/N this is an old friend from Las Vegas, Ethan. We grew up together.”

With a sidelong glance at Spencer you could see him jaw clenching and unclenching. Something he did when he was annoyed. That intrigued you. What was annoying him?

“So you were in the FBI?” you asked, curious.

“Nah. After the first day of training, I dropped out. Left it to this guy here,” Ethan nodded to Spencer, “I knew Reid would be the better agent anyway.”

“What made you drop out?”

You winced, realizing your tactlessness. 

“Sorry if that was too personal of a question,” you apologized.

“No need to apologize,” he held his hands up, “With a pretty agent like you, I’d spill all my secrets.”

A slight blush grazed your cheeks and you smiled brightly up at him. It was nice to hear such compliments. It was something you weren’t used to.

“I figured out I wasn’t up for being in the FBI. Much more of a musician, I guess you’d say.”

“Oh, you play?”

“Sax, piano, a little guitar.”

“Impressive,” you grinned.

“So, Reid. You doing better now? No more addiction?”

“Addiction?”

You furrowed your brows, looking at Spencer quizzically.

“It’s nothing,” Spencer mumbled.

“Last time I saw him he was pretty messed up,” Ethan said, demonstrating a shaking hand, “What was it you were on again?”

“Dilaudid,” Spencer answered, lips pressed in a thin line.

“What?”

You had joined the team only eight years ago, in your early twenties, just shy of Spencer’s thirtieth birthday. He’d already been with the BAU for eight years himself by that time. There were a lot of things you didn’t know about his past and apparently, this was one of them.

“Y/N is a newer member to the team,” Spencer said, suddenly seeming more relaxed, “She only joined a couple of years ago.”

“How long has it been since you’ve been in the BAU again man?” Ethan asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“Fifteen years.”

“Damn. That’s impressive. I could never. Guess that’s why I ended up here,” he motioned with his glass, indicating this certain jazz club.

Spencer’s phone rang, but he ignored it.

“Speaking of,” Ethan turned to you, “How would you like to hear some great music sometime? I could get you front row seats. Maybe even play a request or two just for you.”

He winked at you, increasing your flush. It’d been a long while since you’d had a guy hit on you, hence your constant flushing. You were flattered and you were seriously thinking about taking up his offer.

Spencer’s cell started in again. Once again, it went ignored.

“If I get a chance, I’d love to come hear you play.”

He was about to say something when the cell rang again. For a second you actually thought it was Spencer’s phone again, until you felt the vibration against your thigh from your own phone.

“One second, excuse me,” you apologized, taking your phone out of your pocket.

You had a missed call, followed by a new text.

New body found. Meet us at crime scene ASAP.

It was from Emily.

“I’m awfully sorry to break up this reunion, boys,” you said, “But we gotta go. The job calls.”

“No problem. See you around dude,” Ethan said, patting Spencer on the back.

“Anytime you want to take up my offer, just drop by. I’ll hook you up.”

This was said to you.

He raised his tumbler in your direction with a flirty grin as he backed away.

When you turned to follow Spencer out, you realized he’d already left.

•

You and Spencer arrived at the crime scene ten minutes later.

“What took you guys so long?” Emily asked.

“Sorry, my phone was off and Y/L/N didn’t tell me you needed us.”

You shot Spencer a look.

What the hell was he talking about? You certainly had. Especially after he’d ignored his own ringing phone twice.

“It’s fine, you’re here now,” Emily said.

“Another body was dumped. Female, approximately 25-30, seems to be wounded from an ax,” Detective Valadez said.

“Man, he really did a number on this poor woman,” you mumbled, shaking your head, “She must’ve really pissed him off.”

The victim was so wounded and bloodied, it was difficult to identify much else about her.

“I know what that’s like,” Spencer mumbled.

You glanced at him again, your questioning glance being plainly ignored.

What was up with him?

“Split up. Witnesses said they had just seen her get off of the bus down the street. We need to know how she ended up here,” Emily said, “Y/N, Spence. I want you to start at the bus stop and see if you can retrace her steps.”

So that’s how you and Spencer ended up at the bus stop, him mumbling to himself and you exasperated at his silent treatment.

“How are we going to figure anything out when you won’t even talk to me?”

He continued to ignore you, walking up and down the sidewalk, thinking.

“If you’re mad can you just please tell me why?”

“I don’t know. You might be too busy flirting with some passerby,” he grumbled.

You were even more confused. 

“What are you talking about?”

Back to ignoring you again.

“I think we’ve figured out about as much as we can from here, let’s go,” Spencer said, taking off.

He left you behind feeling even more confused than to begin with.

•

The only bright spot of the next few days was that there was a break in the case.

Thanks to Spencer’s excellent geographical profiling skills, he’d managed to narrow down the unsub’s hunting ground.

The icing on the cake?

In the dead middle of his hunting ground was a jazz club. The same jazz club you’d been to with Spencer the day before, the one where Ethan frequently played at.

Two more victims had been murdered, something that made your heart twist painfully in your chest. You’d been too late to help them, but now, you could get justice for the poor women who had met their untimely end. 

To attempt to catch him, the team came up with the idea of sending an undercover in and staking out the place in an attempt to lure him out.

You were going to be the one that would be sent in. In fact, you yourself volunteered to. You wanted to arrest this guy and throw him in handcuffs. It’s what the bastard deserved after his heinous crimes.

Even though Spencer had hardly talked to you for the last few days, he still flat out refused. He kept trying to talk you out of it and convince Emily to send someone else in. But you’d already made up your mind. 

“You’re not going in there, Y/N,” he protested.

“Yes. I am.”

Your voice had a steely edge. He wasn’t going to change your mind.

“Do you know how dangerous it is?!” he’d thrown back at you.

“Gee, no. I never thought about it,” your sarcastic tone was harsher than you intended, but it felt good.

If he was going to be mad at you for whatever reason, then so be it. But you had every right to be just as angry at him for giving you the cold shoulder.

“This is serious, Y/N.”

“You know what, Spencer? You have some nerve acting like you care about me all of a sudden. You have no right to order me around like you’re my father. Especially since you’ve been passive aggressive with me all damn week.”

With that, the plan was set.

And you went in.

•

“Remember, Y/N,” came Emily’s voice in your invisible earpiece, “If you encounter our unsub, we have to catch him in the act. It’s very likely he will attack you and try to hurt you, you know that right?”

You trailed a finger around the lip of your tumbler, looking around the mostly empty bar before answering.

“I’m aware. I’ll be alright.”

“Okay. Just act like a normal young woman out having a night out. We know he’s picked up all his victims here.”

“Got it.”

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Agent Y/LN,” you heard.

You turned around, seeing Ethan stroll up to you, a sly grin on his face.

“Well hello there,” you grinned, leaning against the bar, “And please, call me Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he said trying out the name, “Might I say you look outstanding tonight.”

You smiled down at the deep teal ruched dress you had donned for the evening. It was a simple dress with thin spaghetti straps and a deep plunging neckline, showing off more of your breasts than you ever had at work. It fit on your body perfectly, hugging your curves and highlighting them. A pair of strappy, gold, stilettos were the only accessory you’d paired with it.

“Thank you. I’ve been anxious to hear you play.”

“Where’s Reid? Did he not come with you?” Ethan asked.

“Oh, he’s around,” you replied coyly.

Just outside, down the street sat Luke, Rossi, Emily and Spencer in an undercover van, watching the entire thing on their monitors.

The styrofoam cup in Spencer’s hand crumpled from his grip on it as he watched the scene unfold before him. Thankfully, he’d already finished his coffee earlier.

Rossi glanced at the cup then to Luke, with a raised brow.

“You okay there Reid?” Luke asked, knowingly.

“I’m fine,” he gritted out. 

“Right,” Rossi drawled, clearly not convinced.

“Isn’t that your childhood friend?” Emily asked.

Yup,” Spencer said and nothing else.

“I saved you a seat at the front, just like I said I would,” Ethan said.

Spencer’s blood boiled when he saw Y/N’s hand on Ethan’s arm. She was doing that thing she did when she flirted: that cute half smile and a peek up through her lashes. 

He’d seen it before many times. It was just one of the many things he’d noticed about her before.

“I’ll personally escort you.”

Ethan wrapped an arm around her waist, leading her towards the stage. They were briefly off camera for a moment and Spencer couldn’t help but feel the jealousy tugging at him. He wouldn’t even be in this position if—well it wasn’t important right now.

They appeared back on camera, near the stage. He sat her at one of the tables at the front.

“I’ll try hard not to mess up. It’s a bit nerve wracking when you have such a beautiful girl in the audience to cheer you on.”

Spencer fought the urge to roll his eyes. 

Y/N actually giggled in response.

“Reid, you’re seconds away from snapping that pencil in half,” Rossi said.

He peered down, not even realizing he’d picked up a pencil to worry in his hands.

“Anything you’d like to share?” asked Rossi.

Spencer looked at the three expectant faces staring back at him and grimaced.

“Not particularly,” he grumbled.

“Reid’s just mad that his friend is making moves on his girl,” Luke stated, nonchalantly.

“She’s not my girl,” Spencer replied.

“Dude, come on. We all know that you like her and just refuse to make a move.”

Spencer glanced at Rossi and Emily who seemed in agreement to Luke’s statement. A glance at the monitors showed that nothing exciting was happening anyway, so there was no way to avoid this conversation with his teammates.

“It’s like a game of chess,” Rossi said, steepling his fingers together.

“What is?” Spencer asked.

“You and Y/N,” he replied, “But it’s like you’re both stuck in a stalemate waiting for the other to make a move.”

He had no reply to that. What was there to say? Rossi was right and it was all his own damn fault.

“Take this as a lesson, kid,” Rossi advised.

“A lesson how?”

“Let this be your motivation.”

-

Ethan had left you since he was up next.

You sat at the table, sipping on your drink when you heard an unfamiliar voice to your right.

“Looks like you’re awfully lonely tonight.”

You turned to see an average looking man dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. He seemed out of place in such a casual outfit. That didn’t qualify him as the unsub though.

“Maybe I like to be alone?”

That stopped the guy in his tracks. He quite literally backpedaled and left you alone again. You heard a muffled snort in your earpiece.

“You sure know how to tell ‘em,” Luke scoffed.

“Yeah, well, if our unsub is picking up women with lines that bad, we’re in even more trouble than we realized,” you muttered.

You knew from the profile that this unsub was full of himself and egocentric. He would have to be smooth enough to actually lure a woman back with him. 

“We’ll keep watching,” Emily said.

You sat alone in peace as Ethan played. He was rather good and you had to say you were impressed. 

Your drink eventually disappeared and when you caught Ethan’s eye, you held up your glass just slightly, nodding towards the bar so he knew you were getting a refill. You stood, heading towards the bar, deciding you’d just go for a simple water. You were on the job, after all.

“I’ll take a water, please,” you told the bartender.

He was young, maybe early 30’s with dark hair. He seemed put together, even for a bartender. His outfit was neat and mess free and not a hair was out of place.

“For a beauty like you, you should have a drink, it’s on the house. It’s my specialty.”

He leaned forward to you, giving you a sly wink, as he reached for a glass without even hearing your answer.

“No, that’s okay, really.”

“Oh come on. One drink won’t hurt. I make the best drinks in the city,” he said.

Something in your mind was trying to piece together, but you couldn’t get it to completely form. Shaking it off, you reluctantly relented.

“Okay, I’ll take one then.”

He mixed the drink, poured it in the glass and slid it towards you.

“Now tell me that isn’t the best drink you’ve ever had.”

You took a sip. It was too strong for your taste but you smiled anyway.

“It’s very good,” you lied.

“So, have you heard about these weird ax murders happening around here?” he questioned, wiping the bar.

“Mhm,” you hummed, “Scary stuff.”

“It’s amazing these deadbeat feds can’t seem to catch him,” he shook his head, as if it were a real tragedy.

Neurons in your mind were sparking and there was something about him that was setting you on edge.

“What did you say your name was, again?” you smiled, flirtatiously.

“I didn’t.”

His grin was icy. 

Red flags were going up. If he wasn’t your unsub, then this guy surely wasn’t someone to mess with.

“Oh my bad,” you giggled, playing the part of a flirty, young woman, just there for some fun.

“Anyway, all I gotta say is, is that this guy is really proving a point.”

“How so?” you asked.

“You just gotta give the ax to some people,” he replied, slamming his palm down on the bar top, making you jump, “You know what I mean?”

You nodded, seeming interested, but goosebumps were forming on your skin. It was too much to be a coincidence that this guy wasn’t the unsub and he sure had the ego to match the profile.

“Oh excuse me,” you said, reaching for your phone in your purse, pretending like you were getting a phone call, “It’s my boss. She can’t leave me alone even on a night out.”

You smiled apologetically and put the phone to your ear.

“Hello? Yeah, just a minute, I can’t hear you.” 

You covered your other ear as if you were trying to hear as you headed towards one of the side doors. 

Once you were out of the building, you pulled your phone away, hitting the speed dial for Emily.

“Prentiss.”

“Emily, it’s me. Did you hear any of-”

Before you could finish your question, you felt a hand over your mouth and you were jerked backwards. You kicked and screamed in tandem as your phone hit the pavement and you were dragged back into the darkened alley.

-

“Y/N? Y/N?!” Spencer yelled, panicked eyes looking at the others.

“Everyone move. Now. We believe the suspect has a federal agent,” Emily barked into her walkie talkie.

“Cover the parameter. We have no idea which direction he could’ve taken her,” Luke added over the radio.

Spencer was out of the door before anyone could stop him.

“REID! REID!”

He heard Rossi yell out after him, but he didn’t stop running.

If that son of a bitch dared to hurt a hair on Y/N’s head, he was going to leave here tonight in a body bag instead of handcuffs.

Spencer would make damn sure he’d see to it.

•

Your back hit the brick wall, the nearby streetlight hitting something metal just right that it gleamed for a split second. 

Your heart stopped when you saw the blade of a hatchet in the bartender’s hands.

“I knew the feds had been around here snooping for me,” he sneered.

“How?” 

You tried to act cool. This was part of your job, to be in dangerous situations. But truth be told, you were terrified.

“Your little boyfriend Ethan mentioned seeing you and your partner here the other day asking around about me. Little did he know he was really doing me a favor by letting me in on that little piece of gossip.”

Ethan. He had just gotten back from a tour of the world. He was innocent in all this, yet somehow he still ended up mixed up in it.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you scowled, wriggling against his grasp.

He held you tight with one arm across your neck and shoulders, his arm almost to the point of choking you. You had to stall, had to do something. Where was Emily and the team?

“Where were you that day anyway? I never saw you here.”

“That’s because it was my day off. Lucky break huh?” he snorted, “Besides, I was in search of victim number five.”

Lillie Newton. She was victim number five. She had a name, she wasn’t just a number. 

Anger boiled within you. Pure hatred for someone as evil as this man that stood before you.

“Why? Why do it? Were you just trying to be another copycat?”

“You know, one of the things said about the Axeman of New Orleans was that his crimes were mostly ethnically motivated. He killed mainly Italian-Americans or Italian immigrants. For some reason, he must’ve hated them. I found it...inspiring. Of course, I have nothing against the Italians. Unless they’re women, that is.”

“Oh so that’s it? You hate women? Talk about typical psychopath 101,” you spat.

A sharp sting came across your cheek as he slapped you, hard. Hard enough to bring tears to your eyes.

“Listen here, bitch. I’d watch my mouth if I were you, because this baby?” he lifted up his machete for you to see, “This can do a lot of damage. I can’t wait to strike it into you and chop you up so your FBI friends won’t even be able to recognize you.”

You swallowed hard. Your brain was scrambling for a way to escape. You were just about ready to kick him in the groin when he was suddenly yanked away from you, his hard grip leaving your body.

You blinked quickly, not understanding what had just happened until you saw Spencer a few feet away, punching the guy. It wasn’t just one punch either. Two, then three came. You bounded into action then.

“Spencer! Spencer, stop!” 

You tried pulling him away as the rest of your team came running into the alleyway. He managed to get one more hit in before you successfully pulled him away and Luke had pulled the unsub up, slapping cuffs on him faster than you realized he even could.

Spencer grabbed you and pulled you close, holding you tight. His head went into the crook of your neck as he clung to you, all of his apparent fear and worry being transmitted from him to you through the hug. No matter what tiff you both may have been in the middle of, he still cared about you.

“I was so scared something happened to you,” he mumbled.

He pulled back, looking over you, assessing you to see if you had any injuries.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I promise.”

His finger brushed your cheek lightly and you winced.

“Did he hit you?!”

“Slapped me, but I’m okay. It’s just a little sore,” you told him.

“You might have a nasty bruise there in a few days.”

“Least it’s just a bruise, huh?” you smiled a tiny bit.

“Yeah.”

He was gazing directly at you as if no one else were around, as if there wasn’t a bustle of activity around you. In that moment, it was just the two of you.

“Spence.”

You both turned to see Emily, motioning for him, needing his help.

Spencer let go of your arms, stepping back a bit.

“I’ll talk to you later, okay?” 

With a nod, you watched him head in Emily’s direction. It had been a long day. A long week actually. But the murderer had been caught and there would be justice for the poor families who had lost their daughters.

That wasn’t all though.

Something had seemed to shift between you and Spencer. Sort of like a chess piece in it’s hesitant movement to another square.

•

By the time you’d handed over the unsub to the local precinct so he could be their problem, it was well past midnight.

Everyone had been way too exhausted to even think of boarding the jet tonight, so it was mutually decided that they’d spend one more night in New Orleans and head home tomorrow. Everyone had gone their separate ways once back at the hotel.

You headed to your room, managing to score an ice pack for your sore cheek. Unfortunately, after all the excitement, there was no time to talk to Spencer and he’d left the precinct before you had anyway. You made a mental note to check in on him tomorrow and maybe even see if things were okay between you two.

You’d changed out of the dress and into more comfortable clothes—sweatpants and a t-shirt. You were sitting at the small table in your room, icing your cheek and pretty much about to fall asleep when there was a knock at your door. Sitting the ice pack down, you walked to the door, opening it. You were surprised to see Spencer standing on the other side.

Before you had the chance to say anything, he grabbed your face and kissed you.

After your brief initial shock, your lips moved with his so fluidly it seemed natural, like you did this every day.

Minutes may have passed, or it might just have been seconds as you kissed him back, your hands naturally finding a spot to rest against his chest.

You were so stunned when he pulled away, that it took a moment for you to realize he had said something.

“Huh?” you asked, still dazed.

“I asked if I could come in,” he repeated.

“Oh, yeah, of course.”

You stepped aside and let him in, closing the door behind him. Your head was still reeling from the kiss as you turned around and saw him sit down on your bed, his hands running through his hair.

“Come here,” he whispered.

You walked over to him, standing in front of where he sat.

“I’m so sorry,” he began.

Your confusion deepened. Was he sorry about the kiss? About you getting hurt? About being mad?

He said nothing else as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him and holding you tight.

“When I saw the unsub had you…” he mumbled into your neck, trailing off as his voice cracked.

You pulled out of his embrace to look at him. You now stood in between his legs, even closer than you had been before, your body mere inches from his.

“I was so afraid I might never see you again. Suddenly, me being angry at you was the least important thing in the world.”

“Why were you mad? If I did something I’m so sorry, I-”

“Shh, no,” he mumbled, his finger covering your lips gently to silence you, “It was my own fault, I’m so sorry.”

You waited silently, seeing if he was going to elaborate. His eyes closed, his expression looking pained and even a bit embarrassed.

“I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” you questioned, your brows furrowed, not understanding.

“Of Ethan flirting with you,” he sighed, “And you flirting back.”

“I,” you paused, your mind racing, not being able to piece everything together quick enough, “I was just being nice to him, then just playing the part earlier. Why would you be jealous?”

He gave a half laugh, almost a humorless one.

“Because I’m crazy about you, Y/N,” he whispered, his gaze finally meeting yours.

His hand cupped the side of your face, his other hand resting lightly on your waist. You didn’t move from his touch nor did you make a move to push his hands away. 

“And seeing you with someone else made me see red. Just the thought of you being someone else’s and not mine because I’d been too scared and stubborn, locked in this chess game, if you will, with you, not making a move. I was afraid I had been too late and I was mad at myself.”

“I’m not interested in Ethan. I only have eyes for you,” your eyes slid to his lips, unable to stop yourself.

You were still thinking of the way his lips had felt against yours. The softness of them, the passion in the kiss, the way his hands had cupped your face and held on firmly like he himself was afraid the moment was just a fluke.

“It’s always been that way.”

Your voice was barely a whisper now as your eyes slid closed and your lips found his again.

This time, the kiss was more heated. Your feelings for one another had finally been laid on the table, igniting a need to act on them.

Your hand tangled in his curls as you kissed him back fervently, suddenly feeling like you couldn’t get enough of him. You had spent years not knowing what kissing him would be like and now it felt like you were simply making up for lost time.

You smiled gently against his lips when he moaned into the kiss. Apparently, he was just as eager for your touch against him, as you were for his against you.

His hands reached for the hem of your top, pulling away to pull it up and over your head. His tongue moved out and over his lips slowly, his eyes taking in your newly exposed skin. Your own hands pulled at his loosened tie, dropping it once it left his body. 

Spencer’s mouth met your neck, leaving soft kisses down it as your fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. The simple task seemed so much harder as you were distracted by the feel of his lips on your skin.

In one fell swoop, he’d picked you up and turned, tossing you in quite a gentle manner against the mattress of your hotel bed. His hand ran over your exposed stomach, his kisses moving lower. You chewed on your bottom lip as you watched him, unable to control the growing desire forming between your legs.

You were so caught up in the sensation, it didn’t even register what he had been doing until you felt the slight tug of your waistband being pulled downwards. His fingers gripped the material and pushed it down over your raised hips until it was completely off.

You wasted no time in ridding him of his own pants as well.

Left in only your undergarments, you and Spencer laid practically skin to skin, taking a moment just to enjoy one another. He kissed you again, his slight scruff tickling your face, while his hands roamed your body.

You, also, took your sweet time exploring the new found territory of his bare skin underneath your hands. They ran over his back, his chest, his arms, his sides before finding their way back to his face, your lips moving in a fluid dance with his own.

He reached behind you, unhooking your bra, pulling the straps down until the item had completely left your body. You were almost positive he held back a groan as he took in your naked top half. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he whispered.

Your legs inadvertently clenched at his cursing. It wasn’t often he did it, but something told you that in bed it was a good possibility that he could be a completely different person.

His hands cupped each breast, his lips kissing your throat as he massaged them. His fingertips briefly moved over your peaked nipples, making you moan softly. 

Spencer wasted no time though, his touch quickly retreated downwards to the only item left on your body. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties and pulled them off, leaving you completely exposed and turned on beneath him.

Maybe it was a mixture of how close you came to death tonight and your feelings for him, but you didn’t want this moment to end. You wanted to hang on to it forever. That’s why you took your time, hands pushing off his underwear, your eyes meeting his.

It was like he could read your thoughts. Being as close as you two had been previous to this, it wasn’t surprising, but knowing you so well in this instance was just on a whole other level of mind blowing. He nodded, wanting to enjoy this for as long as he could too.

His hand covered yours, interlocking your fingers together as he pushed into you. The new feeling of him inside you was overwhelming but really good.

Your hands stayed laced together as he kissed you and moved within you. Your body met his rhythm and soon instead of two, your bodies moved as one.

Breaking the kiss, your head fell back against the pillow as you moaned. You couldn’t wrap your mind around the fact that he felt so incredible. His teeth bared into his bottom lip as he gazed down at you, his desire written plainly on his face.

“Spencer,” you whimpered, pulling your legs up his sides, allowing him a deeper access.

His movements quickened as your pleasure heightened, fulfilling the need for more. You couldn’t help but smile, even as you moaned, at the curl that fell over his brow, moving with each thrust.

“God, Y/N,” Spencer groaned, his forehead falling against yours, eyes closing, “Fuck.”

You briefly registered the other noises in the room besides both of your moans: the bed creaking and the headboard hitting the wall.

“Spence,” you mumbled, whimpering as he hit a sensitive spot, “You're gonna wake up the entire team.”

“Let them hear,” he grunted, “Let them know who you belong to.”

“Whatever you want,” you mumbled, pulling him towards you once again.

Your fingers dug into his back as your high built deep within you. He moaned against your lips, his hands gripping your sides as you both moved frantically, desperate to reach complete ecstasy.

“Fuck, Spencer,” you moaned, your noises suddenly higher in pitch and volume, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He kissed you as you came apart, the fire in your veins shooting through you as quick as lightning. Luckily, his kiss muffled most of your loud moan. 

He buried his face in your neck as he soon followed, his own moans filling your ears, much to your delight.

Your fingers tangled in the back of his hair as you panted, starting to come down from the high. His body was slick against yours as he finally turned his face to yours, kissing you once again.

The cool air of the hotel room hit your sweaty skin, cooling it gently, but your insides still felt red hot, both in reaction to the sex and the fact that it was Spencer, the fact that he was as crazy about you as you were him.

The fact that both of you no longer played this complicated game you’d inadvertently been involved in for so long.

It was only after he’d stilled, his body still flush against your skin that he smiled one of his heart stopping grins, before finally speaking.

“Checkmate.”

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[iwriteforthetincanman]

Mandoctober Day 11: Sorgan

A/N: I went off the deep end with this one folks! This also acts as I part two to day 4: Nevarro. Thank you for reading! Also I may have drawn inspiration from one of @dindjarindiaries​ writings at the beginning of this with Ad’ika’s eating habits. :3

Warnings: angst, self deprecation, sadness (lil anxiety) hurt and comfort, fluff and a hint of spice at the end

This is for @leo-moon​ ‘s Mandoctober!!

Another place Din didn’t think they’d ever return to was Sorgan. It had been a while since they had last visited, before Din had met you at least. After what took place on Nevarro there had been a little distance between the both of you, but not enough to cause concern. 

Din had admitted to himself and to you (whilst you were asleep) that he was deeply and utterly in love with you, forevermore. What the both of you didn’t know was that whatever was about to take place next was going to change both of your lives...forever. 

As cliche as that sounded, you had a job to do. 

Feeding the child was as mundane as things could get around the Razor Crest, but he sometimes made it interesting. Whilst you weren’t looking he managed to sneak three extra berries by floating them into his mouth with his special powers. The only way you knew this had happened were the purple stains on his face, the one that you had just wiped clean. 

“Ad’ika, you know you’re not supposed to eat more than I give, you might get a tummy ache.” Chastising the kid gently, you plucked him out of his high chair, making your way to the cockpit. 

---

Din had been as strict as usual, Mandalorian style. Don’t communicate with anyone suspicious or unnecessary, Don’t contact me unless absolutely necessary and last of all, don’t do anything stupid. These were all the rules you had to abide by just to go unnoticed on each and every planet your feet touched. He reminded you so often it was like it had become your version of the creed. 

What Din didn’t tell you was that there was a village on this planet where everyone knew him. Apparently the last time he visited he had helped save the village from being practically destroyed by thugs. So when they saw him again, they weren’t only surprised (which is what you were expecting) but they also celebrated. Alot.

There was dancing, music, drinks and lots of food. You could stay here for a couple of weeks, Din had told you. It was safe enough for now. This whole experience had been a clear juxtaposition of what the Mandalorian told you. It broke the rules, you didn’t know why he did this. 

That is...until you met her.

Omera.

When you first met her, you should have sensed something between them just by the way she practically ran over at the sight of him. Over time, you realised that Din knew her better than the other villagers of Sorgan. Then it started to scare you how close they were. She gave him food, cared for the child and kept him company. 

It was like you weren’t even there. Either he didn’t care as much as you thought he did or...you really weren’t needed.

Not right now at least.

That night you watched as the villagers danced around the campfire, so happy and content with their lives. A new song started to play, this time husbands started to bring their wives into the circle, bringing them close as they swayed slowly. You would’ve smiled at the heart warming sight if it weren’t for one thing…

Omera holding her hand out to Din.

It felt like someone was ripping your heart from out of your chest and crushing it into dust right in front of you. If he chose to dance with her you knew you never had a chance with him...probably from the beginning. 

Were all these emotions you felt over the past couple of years a figment of your imagination? It was insane how stupid you felt in that moment. Feeling tears pricking at your eyes just went and proved that thought...all you could do was get up and walk as quick as you could, away from the gut wrenching scene. 

You didn’t want to cause a fuss, despite all these conflicting thoughts and feelings.

---

Crying your eyes out didn’t seem like the best solution at first. 

Hidden amongst the boxes in the hold, you tried to will yourself to stop. It felt like your heart wouldn’t cooperate with your brain. Din hadn’t even done anything to you specifically and he had managed to tear your heart in two. It could’ve been worse…

Who are you kidding? All of today had been a perfect recipe for disaster. 

Omera had known Din longer than you had...did you even have a chance against her? She was beautiful, capable and she was already a mother. To you, she was everything you weren’t. 

And Din Djarin...you could never say a bad word about him. You had recklessly fallen for him, not even thinking twice about the consequences. If another person hadn’t gotten between you two it would’ve been something else, with him being a Mandalorian, he could’ve gone on a hunt, leaving you and the child only to never return. 

Yeah...that could be the ‘worse’ option. 

Seeing him die in front of you? That was a close second.

Dying in his place? ...you would do it in a heartbeat.

Even now, thinking your heart had died in that one evening, you knew you would still do that.

“What are you doing down there?” 

In the midst of your self deprecation you hadn’t even noticed Din standing in the middle of the Crest. Startling out of your stupor, you got to your feet, wiping your tears away rapidly. 

“W-Where’s the kid?” You sniffled. No matter how much wiping away you did, you knew Din had spotted the tear tracks.

“He’s fine...he’s with Omera.” Just the very sound of her name on his lips almost caused you to cry out in pain. It was like he had directed a knife right at your heart. 

Seeing your face crumple like that, Din had no clue what was going on. After he had refused Omera’s offer to dance, he turned to you only to see you practically running into the woods. Wondering what on Sorgan you were doing, he followed. He would follow you anywhere, really. 

“She’s...she’s an amazing mother.” In an attempt to compliment her, you tried to keep yourself together. Of all things to happen, you didn’t want to lose your composure in front of Din over something so...foolish.  

“Why were you crying?”

It wasn’t a question of if you had been crying, he already knew that, he just wanted to know why. Of course...you couldn’t tell him the truth! Not without admitting the intense series of feelings you had for him! 

“I-I was upset...about the dancing.” What. The. Kriff. Was. That? Of all the excuses you could’ve come up with? You went with the dancing? Well, it was partly true in a sense. 

“The dancing? What was wrong with the dancing?” Upon asking this question, you really looked at him. Even in all his beskar clad glory, you couldn’t help hearing how quiet his tone was. Did he always talk like that or was it just with you? Taking a breath, you answered.

“I...don’t know how.” Now that...that was a whole truth. 

Even if you had been upset over Din’s choice in dancing partner, you had no clue how to even approach the subject of dancing, let alone with another person. 

“...I could teach you, if you like?”

...You weren’t expecting that. But how could you refuse?

Stepping closer towards the bounty hunter, you gave him a small smile.

“I’d like that very much Djarin.” Hearing a chuckle at the use of his last name, you grinned. Hearing him laugh was always a rare experience, knowing you caused that kind of joy? Sent you over the moon. 

Just the touch of his gloves brushing against your spine as he pulled you closer was the cause of many impure thoughts racing through your head. Scolding yourself internally, you let out a shaky sigh, awaiting his next move. 

“Usually the guy leads and since I know how to dance and you don’t...seems like a good idea.” A laugh peppered his words as he placed one of your hands in his, leaving the other around your waist. Thinking back to the villagers, you remembered how the women placed their other hand on their partner’s shoulder. 

Mimicking the action, you felt like you had drifted somewhat closer to one another, if that were even possible. 

“If you listen hard enough you can hear the music coming from the village...it kinda echoes off the trees.” Doing as he said, you closed your eyes, intently listening out for the soft hum of dainty instruments as the notes thrummed through the forest. 

“...it does.” You giggled lightly at the observation. Wondering how, even with the helmet on, he caught on to all these little details regarding the common senses. Sight, sound, smell, taste and...touch.

It felt like his hand prints were burning through your skin, despite the extra layers. This was the closest you had ever been to the Mandalorian, armor or not. Wounds or not. This felt so...so intimate. 

“Now, it’s okay if you step on my feet the first couple of times, but it's a simple pattern so you’ll get used to it after a couple of minutes.” Minutes? He was going to dance with you for longer than a single song? 

“S-Sure thing.” Stumbling over your words, you tried to gain a grip on yourself. The need for coherent thought struck you as he began to sway. Tripping over your own feet, you realised how difficult it was to do this whilst keeping your eyes on Mando. All the couples made it look so easy. That was when something Mando had said came crashing back to you.

“Wait...you said you already knew how to dance? Who taught you?” You didn’t know what you were expecting him to say as he took a moment to collect his words but you guessed that someone in the covert had taught him for fun. Instead...he opened up to you.

“My mother taught me.” Those words were spoken so quietly yet it was almost as if he had yelled them into your mind. Just the image of a little Din standing on top of his mother’s feet as 

they swayed around their home brought a fresh batch of tears to your eyes. 

“You’ve...You’ve never talked about her before…” Trailing off, you didn’t expect him to tell you more. You didn’t need him to, you knew how sensitive the subject of his parents was. You would never make him feel uncomfortable for your own personal gain. 

“You remind me of her...sometimes.” This sentence was an attempt to knock you off of your feet altogether as you glanced down, a furious blush kidnapping your features as you faked a hurried look at your feet. 

“...how so? If you don’t mind me asking that is.” You would ask, but if he didn’t want to go further. Further than this...a simple dance lesson yet it was so much more. If he didn’t want to tell you about his mother, one of the people who meant the most in the galaxy to him besides the child...perhaps besides you. You were completely fine with that.

“I don’t mind you asking questions Y/N...it’s one of the many qualities I like about you.” The combination of the words ‘I’, ‘like’ and ‘you’ filled you with an overwhelming urge to hug him. Restraining yourself, you chose to grin at him, shyly albeit. 

“My mother was curious, kind, forgiving yet fierce in the way she loved those around her. It showed through in the many ways she cared for me and my father. I remember asking her one night how they met, she told me that the scenario of that night was predictable up until the point where she saw him through the crowd. I remember the look in her eyes when she recalled ‘It was like the galaxy was pushing us towards one another’ she said. I remember...at the time, I yearned for something like that to happen to me one day...although it was a childish dream I know now.” 

“It’s not childish to yearn for love Din.” You couldn’t help your outburst, biting your lip, you refused to meet his gaze. That helmet may have deemed an unforgiving message to others but to you, it was him. You had refused to face the facts for so long now...no matter how true they were, but you were...you are so utterly in love with him. The Mandalorian. 

“You sound like you’re talking from experience.” He hummed, letting out a bitter chuckle you faced him with a forced smile. 

“I always seem to fall for those who have already fallen...for someone else it seems.” The overwhelming sadness was threatening to overtake you once more. You didn’t want to cry...not in front of him. Not after this wonderful pick me up, the feel of the beskar against you, all you wanted to do was rest your head on his shoulder and dance the rest of the night away. 

“-Are you...are you in love with somebody right now?” The daring request shocked you. Sure, you had learnt a lot about Din tonight, you knew you refused to tell him your true feelings in the past but...you couldn’t seem to lie to him in this moment. This bittersweet yet perfect moment. 

“...Yes.” The force of air that left your lips was inhuman in a way...like you had stopped breathing. At this point you hadn’t even realised how effortlessly you had been dancing with the Mandalorian. Not until he brought you to a complete stop, the music carrying on through the wind.

“I...I think that despite how often I tried to remind myself that love wasn’t in the cards for me...that I wasn’t worth that kind of sacrifice...I fell in love. What I didn’t expect was for it to hurt...Din, it hurts so kriffing much and I don’t know what to do because I don’t want to leave you and the kid so I can run away from the pain.” You were crying now...brilliant. 

“Why? Why would you talk about leaving? Ever?” You could hear his breathing now, it was heavy and gasping, like he had been dunked in ice cold water. You hated to imagine the look on his face that went with the sound of his voice. It broke your heart all over again. 

“Because Din...I fell in love with you and I didn’t even think twice about it. About how you could go on a job and not come back, you could get killed right in front of me, leaving me to care for the kid alone or...or you could already be in love with someone else.” A sob bubbled up into your chest and it pained you to keep it there...not as much as this though.

“What are you talking about?”

“You and Omera!” 

The scream of this dragged itself around the edges of the Razor Crest, leaving you a heaving mess due to the effort. Through the tears you realised you had ripped yourself away from him, his hands were held in mid air...he was reaching out for you.

“I’m...I’m not in love with Omera.”

His voice pierced your heart in the complete opposite result of tonight’s events. 

“What?” This time you were completely and utterly confused, tears beginning to dry. Slowly, the Mandalorian approached you, noticing the way he wrung his hands it was obvious...he was nervous. 

“Do you know what ‘Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum’ means cyar’ika?” At the nickname he frequently called you, your heart warmed despite your lack of knowledge towards Mando’a. 

“No? ...But why do I feel like I’ve heard those words before.” Crinkling your forehead in confusion, you wracked your brain for where you had heard those words before. You may not know what they mean but you knew they were important. Infinitely important. 

“...Probably because I’ve said them before.” His helmet was hanging now, the lip of it pressed against his chest as he stared at his own feet. 

“...Din, please tell me what they mean.” Stepping closer to him this time, you pressed your hands to his chest. Refusing to meet your gaze, the quiet intensified by tenfold, loaded with tension. 

“Din Djarin...please.” Resting a hand on the cheek of his helm, you raised his head so he knew how serious you were.

“They mean…’I hold you in my heart forever’...it’s the Mandalorian way of saying I love you.” He may have whispered these powerful words but it felt like he had stolen your breath. You wanted to kiss him, gods above you did. Instead, his arms wrapped around you once more and he pressed the forehead of his helm to yours. 

“How could you ever think I was in love with something else when I’ve only ever had eyes for you? I’ve been pining after you for months on end, wondering if there was even a possibility that you could love someone like me in return.” These words may have been softly spoken but they scorched a way into your heart as you pressed against him in return.

“Din Djarin, a fearless bounty hunter and Mandalorian...do I make you nervous?” You joked a blush still fresh on your features. 

“...Extremely cyar’ika.” Biting your lip once more, a pleasant sensation rang through your body at the sound of his voice lowering.

“Are you ever going to tell me what that one means?” Fluttering your eyelashes up at him, you attempted to flirt.

“Darling, sweetheart.”

“That was two different words?” 

“It means either and both at the same time. Mando’a is complicated.” He shrugged under your palms. 

“What about...cyare?” You tested the word on your tongue only to gain a shiver under your fingertips. Knowing that Din felt the same way made you the happiest person on Sorgan. But learning that your words affected him just as much as his bewitched you? It sent stars into your brain. 

“Beloved.” 

At the dangerously low pitch he emitted, you knew you were in for a long night.

[pilferingapples]

LM 1.2.1

Again, running Late, so just Assorted Notes before I get to other, more coordinated posts:

- a Strange Man appears! Could it be it's Jean Valjean?? ..honestly every time I read this, I wonder what it would have been like for the people reading it for the Very First time. Were readers in 1862 wondering when this weird Convict Traveler digression would end and let them get back to the Bishop? 

(also it struck me very much this time how much his inn visits here are like his later visit to Montfermeil, but i see @secretmellowblog already has a very good post on that!  So, moving on:) 

-Another quick example of someone's fortunes being made by what others say of them this chapter--not JVJ, but Labarre. People say  he's related to the other, more famous Labarre, and that connection's been good for his business. 

-I had not really noticed in earlier readings how this one fisherman is just ruining JVJ's WHOLE damn day.  Refuses to give him a ride on the road, then helps spread the bad word about him through the whole town, driving him on from place to place? this frigging guy! 

-gad the bleak blistering accuracy of the state being willing and ready to house Valjean only  if  he can be taken in as a criminal.  The continued relevance is bringin'  me down, friends. 

- ANIMAL SYMBOLISM TIME! Jean Valjean is called a Marauding Cat --" tso maraude" , slang for bandits, apparently being a regional contraction of " chat de maraude" -- and he is, of course, Not Even a Dog.   First sympathetic cat-aligned person of the novel, but not at all the last! 

- the one place in town where Valjean finds some sort of shelter is a printing office. This would only be interesting for the Napoleon Connection if this was my first time through the text but it's not  and my heart is breaking because Valjean is reliving the last description he has of his nephew : that is, huddling down outside a printshop, saved from potentially lethal exposure only by an old woman doing more than she's expected to.  We're one chapter into JVJ's story and I'm a mess.

- Mme la Marquise de R is really wonderful;  an old woman alone at night, approaching a man the whole town has turned away, is a pretty brave act, and all done out of kindness. And she is of course very right to turn Valjean towards Myriel , who serves as the town's charity organizer!    Though I wonder  what she'd have done if they'd had a different sort of Bishop--would she have taken JVJ in to her own home with lack of a better option? Set him up somewhere else? She doesn't seem like a person who'd be willing to let him just stay there outside the printing office-but this is just ficcish wondering . 

More immediate to the narrative, Mme. de R is wonderful--but she's also the first person in all of Digne to show Valjean any compassion or kindness or even tolerance.  Everyone else has reacted to him with cruelty and suspicion.  And while there are certainly real reasons for this--Valjean is  a Dangerous Man, officially, the innkeepers are  risking custom if he stays there (because of social prejudice!) , so many people are, obviously, genuinely afraid of him--  it seems to call into question Myriel's effect on his flock. We're told they love him and appreciate his kindness--but have they learned kindness and generosity from him? Has his courage inspired them to show the same bravery in dealing with outcasts?  We've had hints all along that Myriel's kindness is treated as charming For a Bishop but somewhat silly , a subject of gossip in town rather than inspiration. This chapter again  suggests really strongly that people in Digne have not been inspired by Myriel to do as he says or  as he does , and that is pretty bleak! 

But at least there's Mme de R. I hope the rest of her story has all kinds of happiness. 

[filthfichunter]

Might i request underage, incredibly tight someone being trained to fuck by Vesemir/Eskel/Geralt. Maybe Vesemir training every boy in "fencing". Or Geralt and Eskel training Lambert or Jaskier. Belly bulge, cum inflation, overstim and any others you'd like. Breeding bench is hot af.

Dub-con into fuck yes more - con is good. No fully non-con tho please.

Okay okay, so we've established that I wouldn't know a short fill if it fell into my lap and introduced itself right??

CW for: I think I only managed to fit underage (Jaskier the year before he heads off the Oxenfurt, so however young you'd like, musical savant? Rebellious barely legal teen? Up to you), and training an incredibly tight hole, inflation, distended belly, punishment inflation, anal beads, coercion, dub-con and spanking... But everything else is totally in whatever imaginary coda I hope this inspires for you of what happens next!

Geralt wakes the bard by sliding his cock into Jaskier's mouth, pushing his hips forward until his white wiry pubic hair hides that cute nose. The kid is practically choking on it before he even fully wakes up and realizes what's happening. Startled sleepy cornflower blue eyes meet slitted cat eyed pupils. 

There is a brief pause. Geralt hilted waiting to see if he'll need to reinforce the lessons he's been teaching the bardling the last two weeks. For Jaskier that brief moment slams forward with a burst of adrenaline  as he finally wakes all the way up. A gurggle, gasping in air through his nose, as he desperately tries to get a deep enough breath, spots starting to form at the edge of his vision.

He's woken up this was every morning since the first. 

The now familiar taste and smell and discomfort calms him, and he forcefully reminds himself that it's all part of the deal he struck even if he didn't know all that he had apparently agreed to.

Geralt's hips forcefully rock, disrupting his airflow, triggering the gag reflex that hasn't quite been trained out of him yet.

The young man's eyes start to tear up even as he relaxes his throat and begins sucking.

"Good, work. Your throat is golden, the perfect little fuck sleeve." Geralt chuckles at his own joke and begins fucking his  bard's face, enjoying the way the kid's throat flutters, spasming around his girth. It doesn't take him long to come, it wasn't an over exaggeration, Jaskier's throat is tight and wet, tongue flicking over his length. He hauls Jaskier up out of his bed role when he's finished, kissing him filthily, licking his own cum out from between slick friction swollen lips.

Agreeing to let the bard follow him along the Path has been one of his smarter decisions of late. When the gangly youth, cocksure and so very pretty, had approached his table Geralt had decided to ruin him.

"I speak Elder, can juggle, play any instrument given to me, crowds have wept to hear a song from my golden throat, and  I am willing to both sing your praises and provide entertainment on our journey, should you allow me to but follow you on your nobel path this season!"

Jaskier had taken a bit of an unauthorized gap year.

"You decide to run away from home then? Someone looking for you no doubt" the Witcher had asked for forms sake, assuaging what little moral reluctance he still held, having already decided that he'd be taking the lithe twink up in what he'd offered and also what he hadn't. 

"Hmmmm"

It had been easy to see that Jaskier wasn't an actual bard or performer, not dressed in the expensive but sedate clothing, only a small rucksack  and case holding his belongings, and presumably his lute.

"I didn't run away from home sir Witcher! I am merely gathering inspiration and experience before I start my formal bardic training in the Fall!" 

"Which isn't to say that I am untrained now, merely in search of material to fule my enterance audition, you are the inspiration I seek!!"

Jaskier had thought it was a grand plan. 

Now he found himself naked gummy eyed from a fitful uncomfortable rest, breath stale from sleep and cum, reluctant to acknowledge that this hadn't been the plan. 

His cock was half hard from morning wood, jaw sore, belly still uncomfortably full from the previous evenings training, starting another morning with his Witcher.

Less time limping along after Roach was always welcome.

"Give me a show bard!" Geralt smirked, "You still haven't held up your end of the bargain and we can both agree that I have been attentive in your training, let's see if you'll disappoint again this morning"

"Thank you Geralt, for being so patient." Jaskier always tried to apologize early on, it saved him from dealing with a red bruised ass all day if he could keep from having to be corrected until at least after their lunch time stop. 

Geralt smirked enjoying the insincerity. Jaskier had started out so reluctant, and confused about his role, but after that first two hard days acclimating had learned to at least give the appearance of acceptance.

He's been working on Jaskier, getting him ready to service all of the appetites of a Witcher."Hands and knees, spread your legs wide, hump the ground, let's get you spent and loose"

Already used to such instructions Jaskier dropped getting into position. Geralt enjoyed seeing that ass jiggle infront of him as the boy dropped down into position for their morning lesson.

"I've been patient, little buttercup, but maybe what you need is a push." A solid clap, more noise than real violence echoed the clearing, Jaskier's hips rolling more fluidly, the fingers of his hands dug into the sod above his head beyond the bedding as Geralt's hand fell down twice emphasizing his threat.  

The lightly furred cheeks of the boys ass looked like a perfect peach, round, lightly furred with a hint of dewy sweat as Jaskier chased the coarse friction of the bedroll beneath him. His cock  hung vulnerable between his thighs thrusting hard  down drawing frustrated grunts.

His belly was taut and swollen beneath him, sloshing from last night's lesson training him to take more volume into his guys.

It was just plump enough that Jaskier couldn't get enough stimulation on his straining erection.

 It was never enough alone to get him off. "Hm. Your little hole is winking at me again!" The pads of Geralt's finger ran over the dry dusky starburst, "feeling shy this morning?" The rim clenched tightly around the thick rope that disappeared into a swollen hole. The friction and lack of moisture after having worm the training device all night causing the whimpers and thrusting to gain a bit more desperation.

The rope ran deep into the boy's asshole, connected to a series of graduated beads. The last bead large enough to retain the heavy expanding potion Geralt had funneled into Jaskier to aid in his training the night before.

Jaskier wasn't allowed to remove them, or empty his straining belly for the day until he'd come first.

It was his own fault.

His virgin hole had been so tight that Geralt had to punish it for refusing to cooperate. 

That first lesson, dispensed only an hour after they first met had done double duty.

Geralt forcing three of his fingers into Jaskier's mouth finger banging the back of his throat to help him get used to satisfying the Witcher with his mouth, and then those slopping spit slick fingers had reached back and smacked down on his hole, three quick spanks, then back into his mouth.

They had repeated the activity until Jaskier stopped thrashing and had eventually cum frosting against Geralt, held prone over the Witchers lap for the first time.

His hole had been too tight, from fear and anxiety the first time Geralt tried to fit the head of his cock inside. No amount of pressure was going to work, so instead of casting him aside Geralt let him know they'd work up to him fulfilling this role in their party through regular training.

There were only two anal beads that first night, liberally greased up with some salve from Geralt's pack. The beads had been small, easily thrust in and out of his asshole. 

He had cum so hard that first night he had blacked out, waking up warm, and sated Geralt's spend coating the inside of his thighs where he'd taken his own pleasure from Jaskier's unresponsive body, pinked up thighs splashed with white seed.

Every couple of days Geralt would add more beads, bigger beads getting Jaskier ready to take his cock, making do with the boy's mouth, hands, and his thighs as they worked to stretch his hole large enough to be able to take Geralt.

Attitude just brought more discomfort so it hadn't taken long for Jaskier to give in. Geralt was very handsome, and his cock was intimidating enough that he'd been grateful not to have had to take it without all of the prep work they had done together

There are a dozen heavy carved stone beads up Jaskier's ass. They bump against each other clacking and vibrating, a property of the mineral they are made from.

 With little tugs to the rope Geralt is able to peek the surface of the largest bead out of the younger man's hole. "Looks like a hungry mouth Jaskier, gobbling up almost everything, who knew my boy had TWO such hungry mouths, bear down, gape that tight little pucker" 

The bead pushes further out of his hole, stretching the rim as it starts to push out. Jaskier rim looses color under the strain a white band of stretched muscle straining.

When Jaskier isn't able to push it any further himself he earns a quick series of slaps to the meat of his ass, cheeks bouncing hard and going even pinker.

They've been working at stretching Jaskier out every evening. First on Geralt's tongue, then moving on to any number of other tools that the Witcher happened to have on hand.

The night before Jaskier had been placed on his back, nearly folded in half with his knees near his ears arms wrapped around each ofnhis own thighs holding himself open and exposed. Geralt used a funnel and inflatable tubing to deposit a potion into Jaskier. 

The tubbing had been made from pig bladder, and while it had only started out as thin as one of his own fingers it had expanded, filling him so deeply and fully that his own belly had soon blocked his view from his awkward position. 

He'd been so relieved to have the tubing pulled free that he hadn't known to brace for the potion itself expanding. An intimidating amount of slimy lubricant had filled him. 

Jaskier had passed out last night with his distended belly rocking back and forth jostled by Geralt thrusting to completion once again between his thighs.

Today's position was equally uncomfortable but at least once Jaskier came he'd be able to rest his sore belly.

Geralt rearranged the prone figure infront of him. Pushing Jaskier's legs even further apart tilting his pelvis back, putting a deep curve into the bards lower spine, everything is on display.

It only takes a little pressure before Jaskier's hole opens up and he can push his middle finger in deep, pushing the anal beads deeper. He gently pets around Jaskier's rim, barely pressing the tip of another finger in, stroking the skin around it with his other ones.

Geralt moves up to a second and third finger quickly. Picking up speed, jostling the anal beads, setting them to click against each other and vibrate up against the boy's prostate. Agitating the liquid locked behind.

As soon as it feels like Jaskier is close, walls fluttering erratically, Geralt yanks his fingers and then the beads out.

The rim of Jaskier's ass blooms and clentches rapidly as each bead is wrenched free, the thick lubricant sealed behind them exploding out. 

Jaskier tripped over into a punishing climax, overwhelmed, spent and lax after all of the stimulation.

Jaskier's unconscious body twitched and his hole spasmed.

Geralt fed three of his fingers back into the unconscious body.

Even as the sound of rhythmic squelching filled the clearing the Witcher was applying the slick dripping from Jaskier to his reawakened erection.

There's enough slimy lube that the bardling feels wet inside, like a pussy but, even after their first grueling session of the day, so much tighter.

But finally not too tight.

He'll wake Jaskier up already impaled on the thick girth of his cock. Geralt can't wait to fuck the hole he's had so much fun training. He could have had the kid bouncing on his cock the first day, but after having lived as long as he has he knows the value of drawing pleasure out. 

He can't wait to further bruise that peach ass by slamming into it with his hip bones, finally hilted deep all the way into the space he'd painstakingly carved out for himself.

Jaskier doesn't know that he won't be starting at Oxenfurt in the fall. 

Geralt is extending his boys gap year and taking him with him back to Kaer Morhen for the winter.

He did after all promise to bring that years entertainment for his fellow Witchers.

[wissbby]

Stolen Camellias and the taste of bitter sorrow - Sugawara Kōshi

Summary: Kōshi never expected the mysterious figure to leave such a bitter taste behind on his tongue. Genre: fluff & angst Warnings: mentions of a dead person Word count: 1751 Author’s note: it’s been a while for me to be this inspired. It took me some time to put this together since I wanted to pick the best words to tell the story. I think this is one of my favourite works at this very moment. I highly recommend playing the song “moonlit night” from Death Parade throughout the whole story.

He knew the black hood all too well by now. 

The first time you ever appeared, he was drinking his double espresso in the early hours of the morning like he usually would. The bitter aroma of the white roasted coffee beans infiltrated his taste buds, the flavour all too intense and familiar. 

He watched how his flowers danced in the morning breeze, the leaves wriggling more freely than their hosts. 

His sunflowers had grown much taller than he expected them to. The bright yellow appeared to be a more golden-like colour in the early rays of the sun. Among all of the beautiful golden petals that faced the East, was one stubborn perennial.

Moon, had he called it.

It didn’t grow towards the sun, letting its green leaves greet the sun each and every day. In Kōshi’s eyes, he wasn’t an outcast. In his eyes, it was a front-runner. Nothing less than any of his fellow brothers and sisters. As a matter of fact, its strange behaviour made the sunflower even more beautiful than its relatives.

Suddenly, his attention was taken away from the sunflowers, now entirely focused on a black hood that was sheltering behind the tall flowers he was admiring just seconds ago. 

The figure seemed to have an average height, one hundred and sixty-five centimetres at best. His eyes traced along the curves that indicated that it had to be a female. Your eyes were hidden behind the hood, your lips just barely peeking out from underneath it. 

Your lips were a bright red that reminded him of the roses he had planted in the beginning days of spring. The top lip was thinner, but not absent. The bottom one was more extensive, much plusher. He stared at them when he noticed how your body turned from left to right, looking around as if to look for any bypassing people. 

He narrowed his eyes, suspiciousness now circulating at the top of his head. 

He watched as a pale hand reached out to the purple coneflowers that surrounded the sunflowers. With pain in his eyes, he followed the purple flower that was now pulled out of its habitat, leaving its comrades behind to withdraw with the stranger.

Later that afternoon, he returned to his garden. His focus was on consoling the other coneflowers by giving them his full attention and bathe them in some extra water. 

Anything to soothe their loss.

The next morning, the same events repeated themselves. Kōshi stood in front of his kitchen counter, double espresso freshly brewed and sunflowers already basking into the warmth of the upcoming sun. 

You appeared once again, the same hood covering your frame. This time, he scanned over your figure rather than following the movement of your hand that was clearly trying to harvest yet another flower.

Your legs were wrapped in a black, thick panty. You had secured combat boots around your feet and a black dress hugging your curves perfectly. 

And just like that, you disappeared again, This time, white Daucus Carota accompanying you.

Kōshi let you evade seventeen more mornings before he had enough, the bitter taste of the coffee no longer soothing him, the pain in his heart too big to witness another flower be plucked from out of his garden.

The next morning, he pulled a grey sweater over his head on top of the white button-up he had already put on. He matched the grey cashmere with mere beige vinyl pants. Sliding his sock-covered feet into his brown leather shoes, he skipped his way downstairs. 

He slipped his arms into his black trench coat, all buttons fastened except for the upper two. Draping a dark red scarf was the last layer of clothing he wrapped himself in before setting foot outside. 

He waited in the morning breeze for your appearance. The previous night’s cold hadn’t been flushed away by the awakening sun, yet. 

His nose turned into a rosy colour, an indication of his body regulating his internal body and brain temperature. He watched as his hands turned into a comparative colour, a tad bit more of a blue tint mixed in them. 

He put his hands together, mouth in between the two limps, hot air exiting his lungs in an attempt to warm them.

It was then that his ears finally picked up on the sound of boots crushing leaves underneath their soles. As fast as light, he hid behind the opposite fence, eyes still lingering on your crouching figure.

He watched as you plucked his favourite flower, the pink camellia. 

You were fast, feet already moving forward while your hand was still between the two wooden planks of his fence.

“Those are my favourite flowers,” a voice enunciated behind you. The voice in your head instructed you to keep your feet moving, neglecting the sugar-like voice.

“You’ve been plundering my flowers and still try to remain unknown? That’s quite rude, don’t you think?” He continued, a hint of amusement draping underneath his tone. 

It was the lack of movement coming from your figure for him to continue pushing you. 

“You know,” he sang. “If you show me what you do with those flowers, I might let you off the hook.” 

“I mean, after all,” he paused, feet steps coming closer. “I do work hard to let them bloom into their beautiful forms.”

You clenched your jaw, tension rapidly growing in each cell of your body, spreading like wildfire. 

There were no people around, and yet you could feel the burn of a hundred gazes upon you. You wanted to go, wanted to run away and never return to those beautiful flowers.

They had lured you to them, whispering in your ear that they were meant to be taken away from the soil their roots were grown into. Their beautiful colours and diversity had your head spinning, accepting the sweet taste of their invite that tasted like a fine-aged glass of red wine on the tip of your tongue. 

Nevertheless, there was no way of leaving the man behind after your barbaric demeanour. He had been kind enough to let you go on multiple occasions with his hand-planted flowers. Never once had he complained about the nineteen times where you abducted one of his beauties. 

Not until now. 

“My sincerest apologies,” you uttered underneath your shaking breath. Kōshi had picked onto your shaking voice. Not to mention, the way your body seemed to crumble apart right in front of him. 

He wanted to tell you it was okay, that he was playing with you just a tiny bit. In fact, ever since your appearance, he seemed rather looking forward to your visit instead of despising you for it. You brought him something new in life, something to look forward to.

“Show me, miss Mystical. Show me where all of my beautiful creations were brought to.” 

So you did, baffling the unknown man along the way.

“I apologise once again,” you sincerely declared. “I never meant to cause any harm.” 

Your eyes began to be overshadowed by a thick layer of salty tears. After all those days of hiding behind your walls, the walls that took ages to build, you saw how they collapsed right in front of your eyes, right at this very moment. Second by second passing by, they toppled down. Salty drops trickle down your chin, falling on the green grass underneath your feet. Perhaps, these tears would help you wash away the pain you had been keeping to yourself for so long. Perhaps, these tears were only there to show you how utterly weak you were for finally letting loose. 

Kōshi’s eyes remained attached on the engraved name in stone, “Tadashi Yamaguchi”. When he had told you to show him the end destination of his flowers, he had imagined a vase in front of the kitchen window inside of your apartment. There was even a possibility of meeting a person who you’d introduce him to as your partner.

He never thought he would be standing in front of a graveyard.

“I just,” you softly sobbed out. “We would always walk past your garden. The way to our destinations would have been shorter if we hadn’t passed your house. But Tadashi insisted on walking past your house every day.” Without noticing, a small smile sailed into your lips, the memory of his hands engulfing yours during every walk all too fresh.

“He always took minutes long to stare at your garden. He looked so happy to see the flowers bloom again after a harsh winter.” Kōshi appeared struck by your words. The feeling that was brewing in between his rib-cages was indescribable. 

“The one flower he always looked forward to seeing alive again, was the Gladiolus.” You let your hand grave over the ice-cold stone, fingertips caressing his name. “I never knew why until he passed away, and his mom gave me his sketchbook full of his admiration towards the creations.”

“He was a huge flower nerd. He named all of your flowers at least once a week, sometimes even sitting from a distance to sketch them down on paper.” He had indeed noticed a brown sketchbook in your righthand on the weekdays. There were little sketches over the front page, most of them flowers, other mindlessly drawn leaves. 

“While I was reading about the different flowers, I stumbled upon one that caught my eye because of its meaning.” You were kneeling in front of his grave, a weak smile growing into your face with a single tear running down your cheek. Brushing the tear away, you continued. 

“The pink camellia,” you breathed out, losing control over your emotions. 

“Apparently they symbolise-” 

“a longing for someone and are given to someone who is missed,” Kōshi had finished the sentence with you, guilt and anguish eating him away. 

He was scared to say the wrong thing, to push your even more to the point you’d crumble in front of his very eyes. He never meant to cause any harm, he never wanted you to open up about something you weren’t ready for. 

So he tried to comfort you in his own way.

“Would you maybe like some camellia tea? I’ll make you a warm cup of tea out of the freshly harvested camellias from my very own backyard.” 

That night you left with a lingering taste of sweet camellia tea roaming on your tongue and a freshly plucked pink camellia with a note. 

“To long for and to miss.”

[confidentweirdo]

People Always Cry at Weddings

(a wolfstar drabble inspired by @johnfiliuslupin on Tiktok)

October 14, 1979

The air was a bit chilly now, so Remus had to put his collar up. Sirius was looking thoughtfully at his boots and kicking some fallen leaves. Neither of them said a word since they left James and Lily’s wedding a few minutes ago and it started getting really awkward.

‘So… a great ceremony, huh?’ Remus tried weakly, not exactly waiting for a response.

‘I guess’ Sirius shrugged and continued kicking a small stone on his way, not looking him in the eyes.

‘Do you remember, how shy James was around her all the time at school? It was hilarious, one moment he was boasting so loudly my ears hurt, and then the other she would walk down the corridor and he got all flustered and started stuttering…’

Sirius smiled a bit, and was finally looking at Remus.

‘Heeeeeeey, Evans… Lost, Evaaans?’ Padfoot mocked James’ love-struck voice and Remus could not help chuckling.

‘Oh god, remember his face when she jinxed that third-yeah Hufflepuff for swearing?’

‘And then again when she punched Snivellus in the face! I think that was the moment he started looking for a perfect ring.’

They laughed together and Remus could not ignore how Sirius absentmindedly moved closer to him. They walked in a comfortable silence now, their sleeves brushing slightly.

‘And James looked happier than ever today!’ Sirius added.

‘And Lily was so beautiful! They make a great team, they were truly meant to be, even if she hated his guts for years beforehand. But they both have evolved so much, they helped each other grow and become better people in the process. They deserve all the happiness in the world…’ Remus said, smiling at the night sky and street lights, really happy for his best friends. ‘I don’t think I know any other couple who would be so good for each other.’

‘Oh really? No one comes to mind?’ Sirius said quietly and somewhat bitterly.

Remus knew what was happening, but decided it was safer to play dumb.

‘Well, Dorcas and Marlene come pretty close to that’ he tried, even managing a soft smile.

‘Hmm, and what about us?’

Remus stopped in his tracks, confident the he misheard the question. Surely hinting and perhaps some flirting was one thing, but this…

‘What?’

‘I said “What about us?”’ Sirius repeated slowly with that unusually low and serious tone of voice that Remus only heard from him once or twice in their lifetime.

‘I… I mean… We will find someone too, eventually…’

Remus knew full well this was not what Sirius asked him about, but he had to win himself some time to stop panicking.

‘Drop the act, Remus. We can’t deny it any longer…’

‘Sirius, don’t…’

‘Let me say it, damn it! I know you’re afraid… of something. Maybe of trusting me, maybe of being close to someone, maybe of what will happen to us all. But that fear keeps you away from living, Remus. I was afraid too, all these years. But I’m not anymore.’

Sirius straightened his back and raised his chin, looking his friend dead in the eye. Remus tilted his head and for the first time ever noticed how much Sirius Black has grown as a person. He was wiser now, not just the impulsive playboy Hogwarts used to know. There was now depth in him, willing to build something, and not just destroy everything in his way. There was less rage and more acceptance, more tenderness and less showing off. Remus decided he was rather fascinated by this new version, same as he was by an old one.

‘If you can’t deal with it right now, I understand, and I’ll wait. But you should know I will always be here for you… not matter what.’ Sirius inhaled and exhaled deeply and then added quietly and way more intimately ‘I love you, Remus Lupin. Probably have for years and probably will forever.’

Remus was struck by how calm he seemed. He knew full well what nervous Sirius looked like, knew what he looked like when only trying to appear calm, and it was neither. He really accepted this fact in his heart and just needed Remus to know, not expecting anything in response.

‘I…’ Remus cleared his throat, and blinked a few times to clear away the tears in his eyes he never knew were there. ‘I love you too. So so much.’

Sirius’ face was so surprised Remus couldn’t hold back a laugh. Suddenly they both felt this surge of happiness, like this moment on a cold October night would last for eternity, and when it finally ends everything would be alright.

Sirius blinked a few times and gained control over his face expression. He cleared his throat too and tried to put on his best smug smile.

‘I mean… I knew you’d say that! Obviously, you feel this way too, I kn—’

Remus did not let him finish this silly bravado that was meant to cover up his sudden vulnerability. He used Sirius’ tie and pulled the other man so close their breaths mingled. Then, without missing a heartbeat, Remus kissed him like his life depended on it.

And it was everything he hoped for since their third year. Sirius’ hair was just as soft as he imagined, and his hand on Remus’ cheek was just as warm. What Remus never imagined though was the feeling of dizziness and utter happiness. Well, that, and how marvelous of a kisser Sirius Black was.

‘Told you the wedding will make them both soft!’

James Potter and Lily Evans stood right behind them, both grinning triumphally. Lily was still wearing her wedding dress, and James left his jacket and tie somewhere, but his hair was just as messy as ever. When Sirius and Remus turned to them, still keeping their hands on each other waists, the newlywed just giggled.

‘Hey, Pads!’ Lily said casually, while Sirius and Remus were both processing what just happened. ‘Catch!’

Giving him no time to think, Lily threw something right at his face, accompanied by James’ laughter. Sirius had no choice but to let Remus go and catch that ball of white and violet aimed at his sternum.

‘We’re happy for you, boys’ Lily added.

‘And kinda proud, even though in my opinion you’re late for at least five years.’

Lily nagged James in the ribs for the last comment and took his hand to apparate them home.

‘Ciao, tossers!’ was the last thing James said before disappearing with a loud crack.

Remus and Sirius exchanged glances, and then Black started laughing hysterically, not being able to restrain himself any more. Moony felt as if he was missing out on something.

‘What was that all about?’ Remus asked, bewildered. ‘Why did they follow us here in the first place?’

‘Remember Lily refused to throw her bouquet after the ceremony, because she said it was “reserved for someone special and she already knew who it belonged to”?’ Sirius wiped the tears of laughter, unwrapping the ball of crinoline in his hands.

‘Yeah?’

‘Well get fucking ready, Moons, ‘cos I’m the lucky bride!’

[baoshan-sanren]

Part 6

to the fucking NieLan arranged marriage AU I can’t stop thinking about

pt.1 here | pt.2 here | pt.3 here | pt.4 here | pt.5 here

Nie MingJue has met Lan XiChen before, more than once, or so he keeps being told by people who remember it better than he does. 

He, in turn, vaguely remembers meeting him only once, at some Discussion Conference, when Lan XiChen could not have been older than ten or twelve. It is hard to imagine an adult from that fleeting recollection, and MingJue does not try. He has been told, many times, that Lan XiChen ranks first in beauty among all the Young Masters of the cultivation world. He is not exactly skeptical of this fact, but the little Jin brat apparently ranks third, so by all rights, MingJue should be suspicious of this ranking system as a whole.

It matters little, in terms of their marriage. MeiLing would point out that there is a certain type of prestige which automatically comes with marrying someone handsome in appearance, but had MingJue ever been allowed to compile a list of requirements for his ideal spouse, beauty would likely land pretty low. There are many things a spouse is required do well, and most are dependent on their disposition, intellect, and forbearance. Natural beauty does tend to inspire a more favorable first impression, which may supplant some other deficiencies. MingJue has been informed that Lan XiChen does not have any deficiencies, a fact that is highly improbable, but extremely alarming if true.

As he stands patiently in the courtyard of the estate, waiting for Lan XiChen to appear, he finds himself hoping very much that his new husband has some deficiencies, otherwise he will be marrying beneath his station in more than one area. MingJue is quite aware of his own imperfections, a benefit of being raised in a clan that favors blunt honesty over dissembling, and he would hate to disappoint Lan XiChen by being unequal to him in every possible way.

Lan XiChen finally step over the threshold, and MingJue has one, very clear, very bright thought.

Oh, no.

His future husband crosses the courtyard without looking up, eyes lowered, red silk fluttering in the breeze, and is hidden by the palanquin drapes long before Nie MingJue is capable of having any other thoughts. He does not notice that he is still standing in the same place, long moments after the palanquin is ready to move, after Lan QiRen has greeted him and not received a response, after more than one of his own men starts to glance at him in askance.

He is being rude and he does not care. A few moments are necessary to process what he had just seen, but he has still not done so by the time ZongHui decides to take the situation into his own hands by ordering everyone to mount up.

They are half-way to the Unclean Realm by the time he realizes that he is angry. All the arrogance and disdain coming so loud and clear from all of the Lan Sect Elders for the last few months now seems almost justified. Are they all so truly afraid of war, so anxious to connect themselves with someone more powerful, to marry someone like Lan XiChen to someone like MingJue?

MingJue does not hold a low opinion of himself, but he understands his own place in the world. The brutal honesty so ingrained in his day-to-day life has never allowed him any pretense of physical beauty or superiority. After all, he has seen his own reflection many times. Had his father not died so early, and had he, himself, been allowed to remain a Young Master longer, his name would have still never made the list of the most beautiful Young Masters of the cultivation world.

And Lan XiChen is flawless. Although physical perfection has never before awoken any feeling in him, other than fleeting admiration, MingJue now understands that he has never truly seen a beautiful human being before. In fact, “beautiful” seems such a poor, insufficient word to describe the man he had just seen, the man whose face would make gods weep in envy.

The man who is going to tie himself to Nie MingJue for the rest of his life.

He is very well aware that Lan QiRen’s brightest pupil did not receive his title by being the man’s favorite nephew. He is aware that the last two Discussion Conference night-hunts were won by Lan XiChen without contest, only his younger brother coming even close to him in rank. He is aware that Lan XiChen is known for his impeccable manners, his kind nature, his patience and forbearance. All of those combined with the face he just saw amount to a human being that could have had the Empire on its knees just for asking. And instead, he is marrying Nie MingJue of the QingHe Nie Sect.

He does not understand why Lan XiChen would ever agree to this arrangement, unless he was ordered, instead of being asked.

MingJue is not angry, he is furious on Lan XiChen’s behalf.

This fury does not quite abate by the time they reach the Unclean Realm, but it lowers down to a dangerous simmer. He watches Lan XiChen carefully, noticing his slight shiver when the wind picks up, the infinite care with which he takes the steps to the hall, so the lovely lines of his weeding robes never fall into an unflattering shape. Everything the young man does is exquisite, precise, and perfectly executed. They perform their bows, and composure never leaves his expression. Whatever emotion he may feel, none of it is evident on his face. The only time their eyes meet, Lan XiChen’s are dark and unreadable, and quickly lowered again.  

His hands tremble while pouring the tea, and it is the first hint of the state of his nerves. MingJue thinks that if any of the Elders dare be anything but perfectly kind and gracious, he will leap over the tables, and cheerfully disembowel the entire lot of them. Thankfully, this is not necessary, but by the time the banquet starts, he is convinced that Lan XiChen’s tranquil demeanor is not likely to hold up for many more hours.

They do not speak to each other, as the custom demands they speak to a thousand other people, a task Lan XiChen seems to excel at, and one MingJue finds tiresome at best. As the hours pass, however, Lan XiChen’s face seems to grow more pale, his charming smiles for the well-wishers no longer coming as easily as they had in the beginning. Even as he rises from his seat, MingJue knows that they are leaving the banquet too early, and that many inappropriate jokes and whispers will spread in their wake. He does not care if the entire cultivation world thinks him too hasty to reach his own wedding bed. There is now a tiny, barely perceptible line in-between Lan XiChen’s eyebrows, and Nie MingJue cannot possibly guess what it means, but he thinks it is safe to assume that the banquet is no longer pleasing to his husband.

He motions to his disciples as he leads Lan XiChen out of the banquet hall, and hears them block the entrance in two rows, as if preparing for a battle. In the QingHe Nie, loyalty has always come before tradition. The guests are not aware of this yet, but any who think that the wedding chamber will be open to visitors, will find themselves with three chi of Nie steel permanently impaled through their abdomen.  

MingJue has no intention of following any of the other traditions either. The fact that Lan XiChen freezes at the sight of the marriage bed stokes MingJue’s fury all over again, but he gently steers the man to the privacy screen, hoping he can regain some composure in solitude.

His own wedding clothes have long passed the point of being cumbersome, and he is relieved to shed their weight. It is hard imagine how many more layers Lan XiChen had been forced into, and how exhausting it must have been, managing them all day long. He is struck all over again by the absurdity of wedding clothes, which neither of them are likely to ever look at again.

He waits patiently for Lan XiChen to emerge from behind the privacy screen, but finds himself utterly unprepared for the sight.

Lan XiChen is wrapped in a soft gray robe, his hair loose around his shoulders, his eyes downcast. Had MingJue really thought him beautiful before? He is devastating.

Just for a moment, an unwelcome, distasteful instant, he cannot help but imagine how it would feel, to have Lan XiChen’s hair sliding though his fingers. What it would be like, if their marriage was one of affection, if Lan XiChen was to welcome him with a smile. What would a flush of desire look like, spread across Lan XiChen’s flawless skin.

Lan XiChen shivers, his hands almost imperceptibly tightening in the folds of the robe, and MingJue suddenly feels ill at the images his mind had conjured.

“It has been a long day,” he says, “You should rest.”

For a few long breaths, Lan XiChen does not move, as if he had not quite understood MingJue’s words. Just as MingJue is about to repeat them, however, he moves towards the bed, crawling in slowly, and curling up at the far end, leaving a space large enough for four grown men. Once he is settled, the curtains fully hide him from MingJue’s sight. 

MingJue thinks that is probably for the best. It will be a long time before he is calm enough to sleep.

[altumvidetur]

Good Omens: Crowley/Aziraphale Fic Recs

So, I was thinking about the coronavirus pandemic and what I could do to help people out. I’m isolated because I’m at higher risk, so I can’t really offer to go out for my elderly neighbors or my family… but I thought I could try to help keep people entertained.

Because I don’t have an AO3 account right now, I’ve been compiling fic recs for my own amusement for a year or so. And I thought – maybe that’s the time to share these with everyone? So everyone will have plenty of things to read while they have to stay at home, or even to escape anxiety a little bit if you’re forced to go out.

Of course, these cater to my own tastes, so you may find stuff you don’t like around here. I never include works in progress. The Mature and Explicit works will be in italic. I ask you to READ THE WORK’S TAGS before continuing, so you won’t find anything that makes you uncomfortable.

Let’s go for the Ineffable Husbands fanfics!

In Nomine, by tinsnip

The first time he’d given in to the impulse to just make up a name, he’d felt a bit odd about it. But everything had gone so smoothly. He’d been able to just go in and eat and then leave and it hadn’t mattered at all, the human hadn’t really wanted to know his name, they’d just wanted something to peg him by while he was there.

And so: Fell. Ezra Fell. Ms Azee Phale. Mme A Zinnia File. A Z Fell, bookseller.

That last one has stuck around the longest, now. He’s grown rather attached to it.

A... A... what begins with A?

Aziraphale makes dinner reservations for himself and Crowley, and is a bit thoughtless. Silly business.

swimming in your ocean (i can get pretty sidetracked), by tinsnip

Under him, Aziraphale makes a soft, deep sound.

He lets go, leaves his lips just where they are. “You’re sweet. You taste sweet.”

Apparently Aziraphale isn’t up to making words right now.

***

Three little chapters of happy smut. Immortal genderless beings assuming mostly-human forms would, I figure, have a bit of a different approach to sex. They've got no particular drive, and all the time in the world. Getting sidetracked is part of the fun.

Eyes Closed, by tinsnip

Aziraphale makes love with his eyes closed.

Crowley doesn’t.

Bad Habits, by tinsnip

Clearly, both Crowley and Aziraphale used to smoke. We know this. We’ve been told this by Mr. Gaiman.

I’d be very surprised if either of them still does. But the reasons for this, and the methods by which their statuses changed, are different.

Notably: Crowley cheats. Aziraphale doesn't.

Like light, refracted, by tinsnip

Full steam ahead, decided Crowley: “I think we should get naked.”

Ethereal/occult lovemaking of the rather fluffy variety.

tell me all the ways, by tinsnip

Crowley was out in the garden.

Aziraphale was in his study, most definitely not looking out the window.

Really. Really. One little speck of sentiment: was it so much to ask?

what a way to make a living, by attheborder

Without any more assignments coming from Downstairs, Crowley is struck with a bad case of the doldrums.

It takes a bit of trial and error, but eventually a solution is found.

(Or: the one where Crowley becomes an Uber driver.)

summer and his pleasures, by witching

for summer and his pleasures wait on thee, and thou away, the very birds are mute; or if they sing, ‘tis with so dull a cheer, that leaves look pale, dreading the winter’s near. // william shakespeare, sonnet 97

absence makes the heart grow fonder, and crowley and aziraphale’s hearts were plenty fond to begin with. a story told through phone calls while they are separated for work-related reasons.

nothing but the wild rain, by Raven

"The internet, Aziraphale!" Crowley says. "This is what the internet is for. This is, quite literally, what the internet is for."

"Oh," Aziraphale says, and Crowley knows, he just knows, that Aziraphale is going to say something about how it's jolly useful for hard-to-find first editions and tickets for the Last Night of the Proms.

or, Aziraphale and Crowley find sex confusing.

Forever, by goodomensblog

Heaven’s execution chamber was elegant, magnificent - and bare. Polished floors gleamed, immaculate; their cleanliness made it impossible to guess at the atrocities committed upon them. Clean, white walls glared, and a window as large as the room was tall, teased of freedom just out of reach.

At the center of it all, was a chair.

And upon that chair, an angel sat.

Across the cold, stark room - too far from the angel - a demon knelt, bound.

The ropes burned, and Crowley hissed, hunching his shoulders as he turned his head up. The angel, his wrists tied to the chair, met and held his stare.

No, it couldn’t - it wasn’t - this wasn’t right.

Confused and in pain, Crowley called, “Angel, you alright?”

Aziraphale’s light hair appeared white in the harshly lit room, and his face had gone pale; but at Crowley’s call he sat up in the chair, bound hands giving a feeble wave.

London. 1944., by AliceinSpace

The air ripples and stars blink in and out of existence as the fabric of the universe creates a loophole in the middle of the street. A figure drops unceremoniously from that loophole and hits the pavement in a tangle of limbs.

"-is that a gunshot wound?”

Or the one in which a fatally injured Crowley runs to the only place that makes sense: a bookshop in Soho.

Of Eclairs, Feathers and Complex Reactions to Trauma, by oneatatime

“Do you know,” Aziraphale said, his voice muffled in the shoulder of Crowley’s jacket, “that when humans go through trauma, they can be quite calm and competent throughout, but then the terror comes out later, as it must?

Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too, by Demorra

He didn’t want to think about the bookshop. It hurt in a way that was entirely too visceral to be angelic, and entirely too earth shattering to be human. It was the love of several hundred years, burned up in an instant. It shouldn’t have mattered, not if he were truly angelic. But he shed a few silent tears anyway and felt somewhat better for it. All things considered, it wasn’t the end of the world.

No, that had been much more complicated.

And yet, somehow so very mundanely human. No great battle, no heavenly sounding of horns or hordes of demons. Just a choice, a choice not between Good and Evil, but between darkness and light, hope and despair, fear and… and love…

the mortifying ordeal of being known (biblically), by FlipSpring

"Relax, angel, it's not much worse. It's just our bodies. It's not like we enfolded or anything." ~ Crowley, in 500 AD, after having physical sex with Aziraphale for the first time, blissfully unaware that he has just foreshadowed himself into a corner

*

Crowley procrastinates on his feelings by taking a 5-year nightmare nap after the End Of The World. Aziraphale comes in like, "dude wake the fuck up, also, do you wanna metaphysically bang maybe? no pressure." and then Crowley loses his goddamn mind, because he is a delicately-stacked bundle of neuroses in black skinny jeans.

Also they have breakfast and check in on Tadfield.

Re-Recalled, by Jennistar

Halfway through an argument, Aziraphale gets accidentally discorporated and doesn't come back. Crowley does the sensible thing and panics.

Luminosity, by bethagain

A quick trip to bless someone with a miracle takes a wrong turn, and Aziraphale and Crowley are stuck overnight in rural Iceland. The northern lights are beautiful, but it turns out demons, cold-blooded, tend to seize up when it's freezing out. Aziraphale finds a way to get him warm again.

i don’t know how to stay tender with this much blood in my mouth, by Princex_N

(Summary by me: the one in which Crowley has been living with chronic pain for thousands of  years.)

Queen’s Greatest Hits, by BuzzCat

Good Omens fanfic with no coherent through-line between fics aside from each one is inspired in one way or another by a Queen song, listed in the notes for each fic.

i know i’ve kissed you before (but i didn’t do it right), by gallantrejoinder

They'd given it a go once. Ages ago. And they'd both agreed it wasn't for them.

the whole damned world seemed upside down, by citadelofswords

(Summary by me: facing the odds and moving on with the world.)

Leaves of Grass, by Laura Shapiro

(Summary by me: the world is saved, and now they’re left to explore each other.)

The Sacred and the Profane, by afrai

(POPULLI.NET link) Somewhere else, the happy ending was different. AU.

Be Ye Therefore Merciful, by AmberDiceless

Crowley does something utterly unexpected, and Aziraphale must face an opponent who cannot be thwarted. Hints of pre-A/C.

Full Circle, by Hekateras

Nothing lasts forever and the final Apocalypse can only be delayed for so long.

There is a school of thought that says you cannot fight fate.

And another that claims there's no such thing as predestination, only those powerful enough to make your choices for you - if you let them.

Aziraphale puts both to the test.

Living Arrangements, by afrai

(POPULLI.NET link) Everyone is more or less human, even when they aren't.

Nanny Knows Best, by DictionaryWrites

Summary by me: an exploration of Crowley’s experience as Warlock’s nanny. 

From the Top (Say Your Lines Once More), by CoffeeStars

Crowley lives and dies and wakes up to repeat the cycle. And every single time Aziraphale is there, a different face and new memories.

Manchester Lost, by Moczo

(FF.Net Link)  -an ensemble sequel to the novel- Our heroes have managed to make things worse, as the Apocalypse is starting up... again. Drama! Action! Humor! Adventure! Tea! Suspense! Snark! Romance!

[babyhoneystylcs]

good night n go(p.p)

a/n: i've really been into ariana grande’s music lately, so this is inspired by her song good night n go which a whole bop and you should really listen to it to get the full feel of this hehe. anyways,as always,feedback is greatly appreciated! 

warnings: none really? peter’s a lil cocky for the sake of the story  

“oh why’d you have to be so cute. it’s impossible to ignore you. why must you make me laugh so much? it’s bad enough we get along, so well. just say good night and go.” 

“I already told you peter.” You sighed, putting the last of your books in your locker.

“I don’t want to go out with you. I’m just, not interested.”

If there was one thing you would giver to Peter, it was how persistent the boy was.

Hoping he would take his rejection as a queue to leave, you closed your locker, and annoyance quickly took over as you noticed Peter Parker still leaning against the locker next to yours, a smirk seemingly glued on his face.

You wanted nothing more than to smack the smirk off his face.

Or kiss him instead. You weren’t sure yet.

Apparently, as smart as he was, he didn’t know how to take a hint to leave.

“What do you want Parker? I already told you, I’m not interested in going out with you” You asked through gritted teeth.

“Parker sounds good coming from your mouth pretty girl.” He teased, enjoying the rise that he got from you.

And god, as much as annoying as he was, you couldn’t help but feel butterflies at the simple pet name.

“If that’s all you have to say Peter, I’ll be on my way.” You said, turning around, making your way to your second class of the morning.

But before you could move more than a foot, you were stopped by Peter’s body blocking your path, almost running straight into him.

“Come on Y/N. What do I have to do for you to go out on one date with me?” He asked, flashing you the biggest set of puppy-dog eyes you had seen.

There were the butterflies, back again.

“Good-bye Peter.” You said, trying your best to ignore the guilt that struck you for the first time while dealing with Peter, pushing past him as you made your way to your second period. 

As you made your through the crowded halls of Midtown High and back to your locker once your final class had ended, you frowned upon noticing that Peter wasn’t standing at your locker.

Peter was always at your locker.

Besides being shocked that Peter wasn’t there, you were also shocked by the sadness that came with him not being there. Peter had always been the annoying, cocky-confident boy who couldn’t take no for answer. You had never had interest in him. Hell, even this morning, you felt this way about him.

But somehow, in the span of hours, something had changed.

You liked Peter Parker.

You wanted nothing more to scream and shout at yourself, deny that you could ever like him. But you couldn’t. There was no point trying to convince yourself that you didn’t have a crush on Peter and everything he had to offer, the endless teasing and all.

For the second in five minutes, you felt yourself frowning at the thought of Peter.

This time, it was because you had no way to contact him. He had no socials that you knew of, you didn’t know his number, weren’t friends with any of his friends, and wouldn’t see him again until Monday. Even then, you had no idea if he was going to be at school or not.

You walked out of school, a frown still on your face. It disappeared almost as fast as it came once you saw who was outside.

There Peter was, standing by the doors of your school holding a bouquet of flowers like it was a normal thing. You couldn’t help but notice him perk up when he saw you, and you felt yourself doing the same.

why must you make me laugh so much?

“Missed me today pretty girl?” He asked with a grin, even though you both knew the answer to his question.

“No, I was remembering how peaceful today was since I didn’t have to deal with you.” You responded, a small giggle esacping your lips,taking the same teasing tone he had used with you earlier, not bothering to contain the smile that was tugging at your lips.

Peter only hummed at your response, handing you the bouquet of flowers he had, before starting to walk away, leaving you no choice but to follow him.

“Got those for you, thought you might like them. And maybe that they would give me a better chance of you saying yes to go out with me”

You could feel your face heating up, and knew that if you weren’t already blushing from his usage of pet names, you definitely were now.

“Now you’re trying to buy my time? I’m not your sugar baby Parker.” You teased, enjoying not being on the receiving end for once.

Peter, obviously taken aback by your response stopped dead in his tracks.

“Wait, no I didn’t mean it like that. I-I.”

You moved so you were standing directly in front of him, and gently placed a finger on his lips in an attempt to shush him.

“God Parker. You’re lucky you’re so cute.” You smiled, feeling a small amount of satisfaction for taking control.

“Yeah Peter, I’ll go out with you.” You continued, gently intertwining his hand with yours.

For the first time since you met him, you had left Peter Parker speechless.

You suddenly regretted everything that had just happened, taking his silence as a form of rejection, and quickly pulled your hand from his.

“Don’t chicken out now princess.” Peter was quick to hold your hand again, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you.

“You know I’m not one to back down from a challenge. Now lead the way Parker.” You grinned, ready for any adventure Peter was going to take you on.

In that moment, the only though that consumed your mind was him. And as mad as you wanted to be at yourself for being so carless as to fall for Peter’s charm, you couldn’t. It was impossible.

You were falling for Peter Parker. 

a/n part two: i wanted to make this a mini-series based on the lyrics I put at the very top. like for example if this were to be a mini series, this is based off of “why’d you have to be so cute” and would be chapter one. chapter two would be based off the part of the song that goes “it’s impossible to ignore you.” and etc. it would be super small and probably have five chapters at most. but yeah lol please let me know what you think and if I should make it a mini-series.

[douxreviews]

Cloak and Dagger - ‘Blue Note’ Review

"Make them ride the highs and lows with us until we all come out the other side, changed."

Dangit show, please don't make me feel bad for Lia. I refuse to feel bad for Lia.

OK, I feel a little bad for Lia.

This is a story about ascension.

They may have mentioned it a time or two. 'Power up.' 'Get to the next level.' 'Run the scale until you get to the top.' You know, the occasional subtle hint.

In which case, it's probably germane to start the discussion with the title. Forgive me in advance if you're a proper student of Jazz as a form. I'm personally not, as you'll see in just a moment. I apologize for the grotesque oversimplification that follows.

A blue note, in jazz, is 'a minor interval where a major is expected. A note played at a slightly different pitch.' The upshot is that after running a musical scale, instead of playing the expected major finish to the scale you play a different note. A 'blue' note. Typically a variant of the expected major off by somewhere between a semitone and a quartertone.

That feels like an accurate and specific description of Andre's ascension into becoming a Loa, almost certainly intentionally. He's ascending and it's going to end up slightly darker and 'off.'  It helps that Andre himself is specifically underlining the metaphor right from the very first scene of the episode. Ninety-six months before the current events, Andre and his band were about to play a show that was intended to make their name in the music world. Andre specifically refers to the LPs of the jazz greats in the bin at the record studio as 'the gods.'  Further, he clearly states that it's his intention to become one of them through playing his performance. Through running the scale up to the blue note, he intends to become one of the gods. You just cannot state a thematic metaphor more directly than that.

Sadly for Andre, that's the night of his first migraine, which brings the show, and his career, crashing down around him. That's right, a good chunk of this week's episode is devoted to Andre's secret origin.

The timing for this background information isn't terrible, although it does feel a little bit like we're turning our wheels waiting for the big final confrontation. Fortunately they get away with it for a few different reasons. The primary one being the performance of Brooklyn McLinn as Andre. Despite the truly terrible things that we've seen Andre do, and the terrible things he continues to do in this episode, it's impossible not to feel for him during the scenes of his attempted suicide. That's not easy to do, as the scenes are solo and completely without dialogue. The only thing that doesn't really work about the flashback sequences, and it's a minor thing, is the way his migraines are timed to onset with his attempt to hit the blue note. There's an unpleasant aspect of 'you flew too close to the sun' about it that seems to almost be blaming Andre for his own migraines, as if they were caused by his own hubris. That struck an unpleasant note for me, no pun intended.

Another aspect of the structure that made the flashbacks not feel like they were just wasting time is that by devoting a little time to telling Andre's backstory they could simultaneously use that time to clear up a few extraneous plot threads before next week's finale. So Tandy and Mayhem track down Lia's body, while Ty goes to resolve that 'gangs want him dead' issue that's still lingering on the periphery.

I have to say, Ty's 'negotiation' techniques with the gang leaders were just wonderful. I honestly thought he'd let the one die when he threw him off the roof. Good on Ty for knowing how to use his powers to the best effect by this point, and for knowing that he can't really do anything about people buying drugs for themselves. So he focused on what he could, and now the gangs of New Orleans know better than to try to sell drugs which will be used in human trafficking. That was a good resolution to that thread. Obviously in a comic book show you can't have your characters magically 'fix' something as genuinely awful as human trafficking without coming across as crass. This was a good way to show Ty making a difference without crossing a line into something distasteful. Well judged.

Meanwhile, Tandy and Mayhem hash out whether extra-judicial murder is ever justified by the expedience of Tandy believing it is, then looking into the soul of someone who seems truly irredeemable and learning to see their humanity. Mayhem was a good foil for that particular character journey, and neither the character nor the journey outstayed its welcome.

Which brings me neatly back to the last reason that the structure of Andre's flashbacks didn't feel like a waste of time. They used our assumptions about how flashbacks work to pull an impressive rug-pull and have Andre of today's plot suddenly dovetail and interact with the Andre of seven-ish years ago's plot. Apparently, Andre of today sensed Lia being given back her hope and reached out into her despair space of seven years ago and stopped Tandy from giving her hope back to her.

Notice that the above paragraph, when written down starkly like that, sounds absolutely 100% bat-sh*t crazy and does not make a lick of logical sense. But in the episode it makes perfect aesthetic sense, and I've never seen a flashback structure used in that way before, which makes me love it. Who needs logic when you have visual poetry.

So, after giving us some backstory and cleaning up some side plots, the episode arrives at the only tangible thing that you can point to and say really 'happened' this week, if you're just looking at it in terms of pure plot progress. Andre has summoned all the girls he's 'infected' with despair to the sight of that fatal jazz performance and played the blue note, successfully 'leveling up' and getting through the locked door in his despair dimension. Cue next week's climactic battle.

It shouldn't all hang together and feel like one complete piece, but it does without question, and it's all down to the expert application of that ascension theme we started this discussion with. If I was going to compare the plot structure to music, I would call it jazz. Really, good jazz.

Bits and Pieces:

-- Very cool combination trick of Tandy throwing the light knife into Ty who teleported to where it needed to be released. Too bad it was just a little too late.

-- Andre's veve lines lighting up looked a lot like he was finding cell reception.

-- Nice little seed early on of showing Melissa Bowen's records in Andre's record store of despair.

-- I actually believed that Tandy was trying to protect Loa from waking up in an ambulance with strange men after what she'd been through. That was a clever ruse.

-- I feel like we were denied a very interesting conversation of Ty finding out that Evita got god-married.

-- Ty teleporting does not interrupt his cell reception or drop any call he happens to be on at the time. That's suspiciously dependable cell service.

-- I suspect that they showed Adina burning the bloody newspapers both as a way for Ty to understand that she'd murdered Connors and to tell the viewers, 'No, we're not faking you out, she totally killed him for real.'

-- Will Brigid get a turn at being in control of her hybrid body after the crisis is over?

-- It was a little awkward having people suddenly vanishing as a plot point what with the snap still being theoretically a thing. I'm not sure where exactly this season of Cloak & Dagger fits in relation to Infinity War, but it definitely made me second guess if that was related to what happened.

-- Tandy's plan of borrowing younger-Lia's hope in the form of sheet music and giving it to older Lia in order to give her hope back was a really elegant plan. On most shows that would have worked.

-- “Luke Cage in Harlem rumble” by Karen Page. That entire scene with Solomon is why representation is so important. Luke Cage is a hero that looks like him and because of that he inspires him to try to be better. That. That's why representation matters. Every kid deserves to see themselves in their heroes.

-- When Ty or Tandy touch someone they go into that person's 'realm' for lack of a better world. When Andre touches someone he pulls them into his. That feels like an important distinction.

Quotes:

Tandy: "Tyrone, if you ask me about my feelings one more time I’m seriously gonna kill you."

Tandy: "Brigid was a better liar." Mayhem: "Yeah, well that’s about all she was better at."

Soloman: "Sometimes you can’t fix things. Some things are just broke."

Ty: "Which one is she?" Tandy: "Both of them."

Tandy: "When all hope is gone, this is what’s left."

Tandy: "You can’t kill her. An hour ago you practically begged me not to hurt her." Mayhem: "An hour ago she had something I wanted."

A solid penultimate episode that got all of the necessary setup in place for what looks like to be an explosive finale.

Three out of four abandoned trumpets

Mikey Heinrich is, among other things, a freelance writer, volunteer firefighter, and roughly 78% water.

[thedeadwalks]

My Savior (24)

Summary: Awoken one morning to noises outside, the reader pushes Negan to take a look. Reluctantly he does, only to find it’s not what he expected…

Pairing: Negan x Reader

Warnings: Daddy Negan, tiny hint of swearing!

Word Count: 1,118

A/N: I want to say a massive thank you to @prettybubblesintheair for her comments, they really inspired me this morning to get this chapter finished!

Chapter Twenty-Four: New Problems

Previous Chapter: New Encounters

“Can you please tell me what he said?” 

You were stood in front of the window of what had apparently become your bedroom. Simon was eager for you both to stay downstairs in the main hall, he said that’s where everyone slept, all together in the one room. ‘There’s more safety in numbers’ he had said, but he hadn’t been able to convince Negan of it. And eventually Simon had given in, realising that he wasn’t about to change his mind, and agreed that you could both stay in the room upstairs, where you had stayed last night. 

The sun had all but disappeared now, just a faint glow of orange peeking from over the houses opposite. You hadn’t been able to see much when you had first got here, everything had been shrouded in the darkness and dingy car headlights, but now as you looked out, unable to recognise your surroundings, you were able to get a sense of how far you had travelled since leaving Negan’s house. You could see the car still parked just inside the entrance, the heavy gate just behind it, a mass of chains wrapped around the bars. The streets beyond the gate were silent, and an eerie shudder run up your spine as the opposite flashed in your mind – the streets crammed full of those things, the metal gate being the only thing keeping them out. 

“Princess”, Negan’s voice calling made your head turn, distracting you from your daydream, “come over here a sec”. You turned back to the window, subconsciously checking that it was just in your head, before you made your way over to him. 

He was still in the chair by the desk, not having moved from when he had slumped himself down when you had come in earlier. His head was still resting back onto the chair, his eyes still closed, as his hand moved slightly to pat his denim-clad thigh. Shuffling yourself into a more comfortable position on his lap, your temple now against his shoulder, waiting for him to speak. His arm came around you then, his hands interlocking over your hip, as his eyes opened, and he sighed tiredly before his eyes met yours. 

“We can’t stay here”  

You blinked, unable to speak. The words hadn’t fully sunk in when he continued.  

“Simon, took me outside ‘cause the others don’t know yet, but their running low on food, water, everything. He says they’ve got two, maybe three more days before this place is running on empty.” It’s quiet then, for a few minutes neither of you really know what to say, before he speaks again. “What did that girl say to you? Amy was it? Was she alright?” 

You nod against his shoulder, knowing that he’s trying to distract you from what Simon had said. But you give in, telling him all the details of your new-found friendships. You told him how Amy had known Cal before this had started, they had both been in school together, and how they were waking up from a drunken night out when they realised something was horribly wrong with the world outside. They had been driving around helpless when Simon had eventually found them, and they had been here since. You felt him laugh lightly underneath you when you told him how Cal’s sassy humour and Amy’s seemingly lack of worry had made you feel fairly comfortable this afternoon, despite you being alone in a room full of panic-struck strangers. 

“So you’re okay baby? No one gave you any shit when I was gone?” 

You went quiet then, and you knew he had felt your body stiffen. His face flashed through your mind, but you knew that if you told Negan what had happened he’d take it to the extreme. You didn’t want to get anyone hurt over what might have been just a misunderstanding, but when his arms tightened around you, his hands pushing you closer into him and a soft kiss landing on your forehead, you knew you weren’t leaving this room until you had told him. So, in the quietest voice you could manage you spoke, trying your hardest to be persuasive. 

“I- it was nothing, really” 

A grin broke out on his face at your words, and he shifted so his lips were just short of touching your nose, before he spoke, his voice quiet and calm. 

“Are you lying to your Daddy, little princess?” 

Your breath caught in your throat, but before you could reach his lips he moved, and you shifted so your head was resting in the crook of his neck. You could feel his head lean onto yours, the thick hair covering his chin tickling your forehead. 

“It was nothing, really, and Amy sorted it anyways”. The uncertainty was clear in your voice, his cheek rubbed against your head again, and when he didn’t speak you knew he was waiting for more information. 

“I was sitting with Amy and Cal, and she went outside to get me some water, and me and Cal were talking and, and then this man came over and he- he” 

“Fuck did he do, baby?” 

“He just got real close to me and he was flirting and- and then he asked me if I wanted to, to, you know, and I said no and that I was with you and he, he said it didn’t matter and he wouldn’t tell anyone and”, you heard a growl rising in Negan’s throat, his arms tightening around you, “but then Amy came back and she told him to go away, and they argued a bit but then he went and…” 

“Did he touch you?” 

“No, no, Amy said he’s done it to all the girls here and she said he…” You didn’t get to finish your sentence as you were suddenly standing, Negan had jumped up from underneath you before he made his way across the room. You were still stood in front of the chair, not really knowing what to do for the best. You knew this would be his response - but what you hadn’t been expecting was him to go straight to the bat, the one that had been leaning against the wall since you had both got here, the one still stained with dry blood. You watched as he picked it up, twirling it around in his hand, a look of pure anger on his face, before he stalked over to the door. You knew where he was going, and what would inevitably happen when he found the man in question, so you took a deep breath before running out after him, praying you wouldn’t be seeing a repeat of the supermarket incident.

- - -

Next Chapter: Harsh Compromises

Tags: @brynnjaminthings @heyitscam99 @lacyrakastan @missghoul18 @multireality @namelesslosers @nerdygirlwithacrush @prettyepiic @prettybubblesintheair <3

[fresh-outta-jams]

Two Bodies, One Soul

Two Bodies, One Soul

Jungkook x Reader Soulmate AU

Author: Admin Mo

Word Count: Around 2.2k

Nineteen years old and still not the slightest hint of a soulmate. Nothing. No tattoo. No timer. No red string of fate tying your pinkie finger to a stranger somewhere on the globe. You were trying to be patient, but that was harder said than done. All of your college friends were slowly but surely matching up with the person meant to spend a forever with them, and you were just...waiting in the wings.

It was great to be able to focus on school, you supposed, trying to look on the bright side of things. But that was getting harder and harder as the seasons turned from fall to winter and once again, you were left without someone to shelter you from the cold.

Days passed. You buried yourself in your studies, finding a spot in the library. This close to finals, the library was open basically all night, and you were taking advantage of it, sitting at a table by the window so you could watch the snow drift by. It was nearing midnight, but you were wide awake thanks to the help of the coffee in the mug to your right.

You twirled a white earbud around your finger, scribbling some doodles on the page in your notebook. Your brain was fried by this point, but you tried to focus on your textbook…

Maybe it was the caffeine. Maybe it was the fact that you had been up for almost twenty-four hours.

Or maybe it was fate.

Suddenly, you were somewhere else. It was a room with wooden floors, a big mirror, and a handful of boys. There was music playing and they were...dancing? Dancing really well. And then one of them stumbled into you and you fell over.

One of them looked at you and spoke in a language you couldn’t understand, asking if you were okay. Your eyes widened and you looked around. Someone stopped the music and you just sat there in utter confusion. What was happening?

“Where the hell am I?” You asked. You noticed you were wearing different clothes and when you looked in the mirror…

Your heart raced. Your reflection wasn’t in it.

“Jungkook.” One of the boys, one wearing glasses and a baseball cap, walked over and looked at you. He said something else in the foreign language, but it fell on deaf ears. You didn’t understand him.

Slowly, you got up off of the ground, eyes glued to the mirror as one of the boys, a handsome one at that, got up at the same time. When you raised your hand, he raised his hand. When you reached up to touch your head, so did he, but your fingers found soft short hair instead of your long (H/C) strands.

You looked at your hands, eyes carefully searching over the longer fingers and larger palms. You felt your face, gently searching the smooth skin, and as you walked closer to the boy’s reflection, you finally realized who this must be.

“Are you okay?” The boy with glasses asked again, this time trying in English.

You nodded and then shook your head, exhaling a shaky breath. “I...I don’t know.” The voice that left your lips was not your own.

The other boys chattered amongst themselves, eyeing you like you were an alien. You didn’t blame them. That was what it sort of felt like.

“Jungkook?” He asked.

You shook your head. “I’m not...No. I’m (Y/N).”

One of the boys who was currently shorter than you looked over you critically, as though he was trying to guess if this was a joke or not. But whatever had happened was very real.

“You must be his soulmate.” The other boy realized quietly.

Somewhere deep within you, you knew it must be true. “I...I think so. Yeah.”

“Where are you from?”

“America.” You looked around. “Where...are we?”

“Korea.” The shorter boy that had been looking you over earlier answered.

“Oh. Wow. Okay.” Your eyes widened and you nodded. That made sense. Okay. Maybe you could handle this. “Do you, uh, have a pen?”

***

A few minutes later, you returned to your own body like nothing had ever happened. A few sips of your coffee had disappeared, and your textbook was flipped to a different page. Really, the only notable change was a note written on your hand. Apparently your soulmate had gotten the same idea as you.

Written carefully across your left palm was: Hello soulmate.

Your heart raced just reading over the words. This was real. It had actually happened. Somehow, even writing it with your hand, this was not your handwriting. It was his. Jungkook’s.

Finally, after all this time, you knew he was out there somewhere. And in this case, ‘somewhere’ happened to be Korea.

Maybe this would be a little complicated.

As soon as you could, you hit up one of your friends, who was currently studying Korean to learn more about her heritage. She was a friend of one of your roommates, but when you told her what had happened, she was more than willing to help you with whatever she could.

You didn’t know how you had switched with Jungkook, and you weren’t sure when it would happen again, so just in case, you wrote a note on your hand: Jungkook, find Zoya.

This came in handy three days later when it happened again.

Jungkook was in his room one moment, getting ready for bed, and the next, he was sitting at a table, breakfast sandwich in hand. He dropped it on the paper wrapping, his eyes widening as he looked around. It had happened again.

“(Y/N), you okay?” The girl across the table from him asked. He looked over his hands, and sure enough, there were the same manicured fingernails and short ring-covered fingers had had found last time. Written on the back of your hand in curling letters was the message to find someone named Zoya.

“Are...you Zoya?”

“You got lucky, Jungkook.” The dark-haired girl replied in Korean. He exhaled a sigh of relief. Finally, someone he could understand. “(Y/N) told me about what happened. She was afraid it would happen again.”

“So was I.” He admitted. Yes, he was glad to have finally found his soulmate, but being unexpectedly thrust into a different country with a different timezone was terrifying to say the very least. “I’m glad she was smart enough to ask for help.”

“You should write her something.” She pushed a pen across the table. “She liked your note last time.”

Jungkook took the pen and tapped it against his lips a few times, thinking of what he could write. Then, inspiration struck.

***

You could say your situation was unique to say the very least. You had never heard of soulmates switching bodies. But of all of the ways to meet a soulmate, you guessed it wasn’t the worst. At least you weren’t one of the poor souls with your beloved’s last words written on your arm.

When you were home in your own body, Zoya spent every moment she could watching videos with you of a boy band you had only sort of heard about until the Switch had happened. BTS. And you were very surprised to find seven familiar faces on your screen.

“That’s them? That’s him?” You watched wide-eyed as Zoya recorded the whole thing on your phone to show Jungkook whenever he emerged next. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined one of her friends would be matched with her second-favorite member of her favorite boy band. And yet, here you were. You had met all of the boys dancing and singing and rapping on the screen. Not only that, you had been in one of their bodies.

“That’s him.”

“His voice is so...oh my God…” You reached for the remote and turned up the volume so you could hear his angelic notes. “Holy…”

“I know, right?” She smirked. “Don’t worry, (Y/N). I’ll get you educated.”

Over the next few days, Zoya recorded lots of videos of you jamming to the boys’ music and making feeble attempts to sing along. She thought it was adorable and knew Jungkook would too whenever he showed up.

Meanwhile, Jungkook was doing his best to compile a list of useful Korean phrases he hoped would help you function when you were taking turns inside his body. Namjoon was very helpful with translating things for him in a way you would understand. It had happened twice already, and so the maknae was sure it was only a matter of time before it happened again.

And it was a few days later that it happened while the boys were at the beach.

It was Yoongi that noticed Jungkook inhale a large breath as his eyes widened, and when he exhaled, his mannerisms were different. His posture was different.

The white-haired boy smirked. “Welcome back, (Y/N).”

Your head whipped around to look at the one who had spoken. You tried your best to remember your ‘studying’ sessions with Zoya.

“You’re...Suga, right? Min Yoongi?”

He only nodded and put a hand on your shoulder, leading you along with the others. Namjoon perked up at the mention of your name and held out his hand.

“I don’t think we met the right way the first time. I’m Namjoon.”

“I’m (Y/N).” You couldn’t imagine how weird this must be for them. To introduce themselves to a stranger in their friend’s body. To wrap their heads around this whole situation. You barely understood it yourself.

“Kookie told us about Zoya. Thanks for making sure he’s taken care of over there.”

“He’s been doing the same for me.” You shrugged, reaching into his pockets. There was a small notebook tucked there.

Namjoon nodded, encouraging you to take it out. Inside, you found all of the notes the boys had left for you. Translations, a guide to the members, and also a note.

‘(Y/N), thanks for Zoya. Can’t wait to meet you for real.’ Beside it was a little doodle of a heart.

You took out the pen attached to the notebook and wrote back.

‘Same here.’

***

As the weeks went on, the boys were able to tell whenever a Switch happened pretty easily. Kookie’s eyes would go wide and suddenly, he would be a different person. But even if they hadn’t seen the Switch happen, they knew when you had popped in because you were a lot quieter than their maknae. A lot shyer with them. The boys cared about Kookie, and therefore you, so they did their best to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable whenever you were there.

The length of your visits changed every time. Sometimes it would be moments, other times it would be hours. You never knew when or where it would happen either. You tried to record every time it occurred so you could try to predict the next time, but it was impossible. They were random spurts in which the universe would swap your souls out of nowhere.

Zoya recorded Jungkook’s reaction to your reaction of him and God, it was weird watching him. He was in your body. He looked like you, sounded like you, but he wasn’t you. And he was speaking in Korean. For the most part. When he was done watching the video, he had turned to the camera like he was staring right into your soul, and with your mouth, he said, “(Y/N), you are so beautiful...How did I...get so lucky?”

Your heart just about melted.

You and Zoya were working with Namjoon and Jungkook to plan your spring break trip to South Korea. The boys had told you the two of you could stay with them. Jungkook of course, blushingly admitted he wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with you, and Zoya was more than open to the idea of sleeping on the couch.

But with about five months to go, waiting was getting hard. Every time he was in your body, Jungkook took to doodling all over your arm. He was really good at art, so he filled your fingers with swirling flowers and vines. And when you were in his body, you wrote poems on his palms. It always made him smile when he came back.

Neither of you understood how you could have so much love for someone you had never met. But at night, when you played their music filled with that melodious voice, you had no doubt in your head that soon, everything would be right.

Sometime a few months after the first Switch, you noticed that sometimes you would get confused. When you would switch back, you felt short in your own body, which you thought was funny. And other times, when you were in his, you almost forgot how strong he was, but it was extremely obvious when one of the members, forgetting you were you, hopped on his back.

Each of you were picking up more of the other’s language to the point where you were at least conversational in it. And by this point, you had most of the boys’ songs memorized. The boys sent you and Zoya jackets and shirts, along with a Cooky plush, which made you smile so hard your face hurt. The cute pink bunny found a new home on your bed. You cuddled with it every night, silently wishing you were cuddling with him instead.

You sent him a care package too, full of American candies and things. You also sent him a sketch Zoya had made. It was a portrait. Half him, half you, one soul. You knew he would like it.

“He really loves you, you know that, right?” Jimin asked one day.

You had a mug of coffee in your hands and you were sitting at the table with him. A bashful smile found its way onto your face and you tried to hug behind the cup. Jimin smiled and laughed at your reaction. It was cute, he decided.

“I...I love him too.” You admitted, maybe for the first time out loud. “A lot. I can’t wait to meet him for real…”

“Did he tell you about my soulmate?” Jimin asked.

You shook your head. “What’s your connection like?”

“She’s a voice I hear in my head.” Jimin raked his ring-covered fingers through his fluffy hair, smiling as he thought about her. “Sometimes our other senses...I can smell her perfume. Vanilla.”

“Seems easier than this.”

“Sometimes.” Jimin shrugged. “But you get to live a day in the other’s life.”

“Yeah…” You nodded. “But I wish he was here…”

***

Finally, after months of waiting and writing and listening to music, the day of the flight had come and you could hardly contain your excitement. You woke up half an hour before the alarm and shoved some last-minute things into your carry-on.

You and Zoya got to the airport in record time, situated your luggage, and boarded your flight. You shared a pair of earbuds and listened to DNA and then some of their older stuff. You watched the Mic Drop MV a few dozen times when another Switch happened.

Jungkook grinned, looking out the window and then noticing what was playing on your phone. “Is this what you two do when I’m not here?” he teased.

Zoya laughed. “She’s gotta see that beautiful face somehow, right?”

“How close are we?” He asked, trying to look out at the world below as if it would tell him where you were. Instead, he found lots and lots of water.

“Few hours.”

“Awesome. I have a secret, but you can’t tell her.”

“Lay it on me.”

“I got her a ring.” He reached for his phone, but realized when instead of pockets he found leggings that this was not his body and therefore, you weren’t wearing his pants. “I wish I should show you a picture so you could tell me it she’ll like it.”

“She’ll love it. I promise.” Zoya smiled. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

“The driver is going to pick you up from the airport. He’ll have a sign. And then he’s going to take you to the beach so-”

You inhaled a deep breath, returning after the brief Switch.

“What’d I miss?”

“Not much.” Zoya shrugged, grinning.

You raised an eyebrow skeptically at her. She was hiding something, you could tell. It only made you more curious about the secret Jungkook was obviously keeping from you. But you didn’t say anything. You didn’t want to ruin the surprise. “I can’t wait to get there.

A short nap and a few hours later and you had landed at the airport. You found your luggage without too much trouble, and met up with the driver who was holding up a sign the boys had obviously made themselves. It was painted with your names and some other little doodles and notes that brought a smile to your face.

You got into the car, looking around as the city passed you by. You were expecting him to pull up to the apartments where the boys lived, but instead, he kept driving for a while, parking at the beach.

Zoya smiled at you, and then messed around on her phone, pretending to not notice as Taehyung knocked on your window. You looked, gasped, and rolled it down.

“Hi!” He grinned that famous box smile and waved. “Jungkook is waiting over this way.” He opened the door and led you towards the beach.

You kicked off your shoes and tucked your socks inside them so you wouldn’t coat them in the sand.

The further Tae led you, you realized that Jungkook was nowhere in sight. This was because the tall maknae was following the two of you, a mischievous smile on his handsome features. He hoped there wouldn’t be a Switch to ruin the moment.

“Okay, wait right here.” Tae instructed, his hand out in front of him, telling you to stay.

Your eyes drifted over the waves, the sun making them sparkle like diamonds. The breeze was warm, soft, it ruffled your hair. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear Zoya introducing herself to Namjoon and the others. Jungkook was here somewhere, you could feel it. You just didn’t realize how close he was until a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind.

He was so warm, dressed in a black hoodie with a black beanie on. He rested his chin on your shoulder, pressing a long kiss to your cheek. “Nice to meet you, finally.”

“Oh God, your voiceee…” You sighed, leaning into his touch.

He laughed. “You’ve heard it a million times.”

“It’s different in person.” You smiled, trying to turn around to look at him, but he tightened his hold on you.

“Just let me hold you a little longer.” He whispered, taking in your scent, your warmth, your everything before finally turning you around to look at you for the first time. He let out a sigh of awe and reached out to touch your cheek with one of his soft hands. “You’re so beautiful…”

“God, how did I get so lucky?” You tilted your head to look up at him.

“You say to the luckiest man alive.” He leaned down and kissed your forehead, pulling you in for a proper hug.

You wrapped your arms around his toned body and rubbed circles on his back. He ran his fingers through your hair, his other arm tight around your waist.

“I have something for you.” He spoke quietly, his words almost swallowed up by the sea. Jungkook let go of you to reach into his pocket for the little velvet box he had been nervously carrying around for the past few hours, hoping you wouldn’t Switch and find it before you were supposed to. Jungkook opened the box and let you admire the Promise ring, a delicate pink butterfly fluttering gently on the studded silver band.

You covered your mouth behind your hand and inhaled a surprised little breath. You couldn’t help but smile, holding out your hand so he could slide the ring onto your finger, a perfect fit. It was then that you noticed a matching ring on his left hand, a simple silver band with a butterfly engraved into it.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Once the ring was on your finger, he raised your hand to his lips and kissed the back of it before lifting you up and spinning you around. The other boys and Zoya ran over too, after giving the two of you a moment alone. You finally got to meet the rest of the boys in your own body with your best friend by your side. Jungkook’s arm never unwrapped from around you, keeping you close to him. If he had it his way, he would never let go of you again.

After months and months of writing to each other but never talking, the connection you had with one another was so effortless, so instantaneous, that the others couldn’t believe two people could be so in sync. Every interaction you had was so passionate and fun and comfortable, it was as though you had known each other your whole lives. And in a way, maybe you had.

Your souls were forever intertwined, and you knew they would be forevermore....

Link to sequel in Masterlist

[gossamie]

I Dare You

― summary: Competition drives you and Jimin; it’s what has kept you such close friends for as long as you can remember. But when Jimin gives you one unbelievable dare, it may be the one competition you lose.

― pairing: park jimin x reader

― genre: fluff

― word count: 1,455

― warnings: (a lil bit of) swearing, mentions of alcohol, naughty dancing

― notes: i was inspired to write this drabble when i heard the first lyrics of dua lipa’s new song, one kiss. i’m also preparing to write something very angsty soon, so i wanted to fluff myself up in preparation. i hope you enjoy!

“One kiss is all it takes / Fallin’ in love with me” - Dua Lipa, One Kiss

“I dare you to grind against that girl’s boyfriend.”

“Deal.”

You eyed Jimin with a sly gaze, setting your drink down and moving from your seat at the counter towards the man your friend pointed to. As you walked past them, the throng of people enveloped you, reacting to your presence as if you were a pebble moving upstream. The loud throbs of music stifled the conversations of the partygoers around you and the sound of your own thoughts. Hues of crimson and violet illuminated the shifting bodies, only adding to the mysterious and seductive aura of the club.

Being at this nightclub definitely set you outside of your comfort zone. You would much rather be curled up on your sofa than at this never-ending party. Yet, you could never say no to Jimin— he always convinced you with his motto, “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing”— and maybe it was the alcohol coursing through your veins or his reassuring presence, but you felt strangely at ease.

As the distance between you and your target grew smaller, you began to act as if you were in a drunken stupor. You tousled your hair and stumbled about, paying no mind to the judgemental stares of those who surrounded you. With a gleeful cry and an inward “Sorry”, you pushed the woman away and moved against the clueless man in a clumsy yet sinful way. When you looked back towards the bar, you could see Jimin’s head thrown back in laughter and it took all of your willpower to contain yours.

“Excuse me?” the woman cried. The fact that you could hear her screech over the pounding music was a testament to how loud her voice was. “Just what do you think you’re doing? Some people are trying to have a fun night!”

You responded by making your movements even more exaggerated, seemingly absorbed in your intoxicated state.

Incredulous, the woman shifted her attention to her boyfriend. “And you— are you enjoying this? Get your hands off of her hips, you asshole!”

That was your cue to leave.

Feigning sudden illness, you dashed away from the screaming woman and her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. You slipped back into your seat at the bar, where you and Jimin subsequently doubled over in laughter.

“Y/N, I think you just ruined someone’s relationship,” Jimin exclaimed in between exasperated laughs.

“Hey, that’s not my fault! You gave me the dare, not the other way around,” you replied, sipping from your glass. “Plus, he deserved it. The guy was a total creep.”

“Agreed.” Jimin motioned for the bartender. “That performance deserves a drink. Let me guess— a vodka soda with a touch of lime?”

“You know me so well.”

“What are friends for?”

A smile grew on your lips as Jimin ordered your drink. To say that you have been best friends with Jimin all your life would not be an exaggeration. The two of you were born at the same hospital mere days apart from each other, the connection between you and Jimin stronger than that of twins; your mother often told you when you cried, Jimin cried, and vice versa. Since then, you and Jimin were inseparable. You grew up in the same neighborhood, saw each other’s awkward middle school phases, survived high school and college together— whatever you did, Jimin was there to experience it with you.

To pinpoint exactly one reason as to why you and Jimin got along so well would be impossible, for the bond between you and Jimin was inexplicable; you just clicked. You were sure, though, that the competitive nature you shared in common with Jimin made every memory so much more adventurous and your friendship so much more close. It has been his lifelong goal to ruin your streak, but in the twenty-two years that you have known Jimin, not once have you rejected one of his dares, no matter how ridiculous the challenge may be, and you intended to keep winning.

So it came as no surprise to Jimin when you dared him to let people take body shots off of him, and it came as no surprise to you when he lifted up his shirt, laid down on the bar counter, and announced that he was giving out free shots.

Jimin’s free spirit and fearlessness was something that still surprised you every day. You loved the way he viewed obstacles as new adventures; nothing was impossible in his mind. He always pushed you to place yourself in uncomfortable situations, and although it terrified you, there was no longer a dull moment in your life. For him, you would always be thankful.

Twenty body shots and endless fits of laughter later, Jimin stood in front of you and, with a dramatic bow, asked, “May I have this dance?”

“I would love to,” you responded, taking his hand as he led to you the dance floor.

The dancing bodies engulfed you once more, the deafening music and the vivid glow of the lights above drowning you in a sea of ruby and fuschia. You paid no mind to the inebriated atmosphere of the club, however, for you and Jimin were in your own little world, challenging each other in an impromptu dance battle. You danced until your feet began to ache and your muscles were telling you to take a break, but something in the air made the moment feel magical and you wanted to hold onto it for as long as possible.

“Y/N,” Jimin called suddenly, the volume of his voice apparently amplified. “Are you up for a dare?”

“Always. What is it?”

“I dare you to kiss me and not fall in love.”

Surprise formed your lips into a small “O”. It took you a moment to form a sentence. “Jimin, is that you or the alcohol talking?”

“Trust me, Sober Jimin would say the exact same thing.”

You attempted to laugh off the shock you felt. “You’re being ridiculous. That has to be the craziest dare you’ve ever given me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I can’t believe my ears. Do I hear L/N Y/N backing down from a dare?”

“Never. Come here,” you scoffed, your own boldness shocking you.

His lips began to close the distance between him and you, not a hint of hesitation interrupting his movement. You searched Jimin for that familiar glint in his eyes but became startled when you failed to find a trace of mischief in those chestnut-colored orbs. His eyes did not seem muddled from his intoxication; in fact, they looked clearer than if he were to be sober. His gaze bore into your soul, as if he was trying to tell you a secret purely through eye contact. You felt as if you were looking at a side of Jimin that was completely foreign to you and it both excited and frightened you.

Then, he kissed you.

The moment your lips locked, the music became silent and the world around you ceased to exist. You swore you heard Jimin sigh in relief, and suddenly you were struck with the realization that this moment was something he had been longing to do for twenty-two years. His kiss was delicate, fragile, as if he feared that you would be scared off by any sudden movement. Gently, he placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer until your body was flush against his. The inklings of passion that Jimin had tried to suppress abruptly broke free. His lips began to work against yours fervently, wildly, because now that he knew you were not afraid he was hungry to taste more of you. To your surprise, you felt your grip on his arms tighten, as if your conscious was keeping him from breaking the kiss.

The kiss did not last more than thirty seconds, but you wanted it to last forever.

When he finally pulled away, Jimin looked different.

The shades of scarlet and amethyst painting the air made his ash-blonde tresses look a little more prominent, his smile a little more dazzling. His face, once plump and endearing, now looked elegant and striking, as if his bone structure was carved from marble. Jimin’s gaze was clouded by a haze and you could sense that he began to view you differently, too. Discovering these new details in his appearance awakened something in you, something so powerful that it made your heart beat faster and your mind sent spiraling.

All at once, you wanted to be with Jimin for the rest of your life.

“I think I just won,” Jimin whispered, shattering the deafening silence. It did not sound like the competition mattered to him anymore.

“I dare you to kiss me again.”

“Deal.”

[all-i-need-is-food-and-fanfics]

What do you want?(6)

length: 3161 words

trigger/warnings:  mention of death, graphic violence, blood(nothing too graphic or explicit yet), curses(because it’s Bakugo)

summary:  Katsuki breathe again, and smiled, there he stood, unbreakable. 

(Buddy Cop AU)

a/n:  I think by this part you know, check @soyunpochoclin out! :D

Sorry for not updating last week, I had some unexpected family problems, but here you go something that was supposed to be chill but I then my youtube recommendations were all really intense songs and I got really inspired. I like writing action scenes, they are always fun, plus with the quirks, there are so many possibilities. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, and you are liking the story! Thanks for reading! :D

 <--5th part - 7th part-->

***

Ejirou looked up to Bakugo, staring at his back still with the fussy memory of black tank tops and strong shoulders replacing the actual blue and black uniform. He was still trying to process the experience that was walking up in Bakugo’s house.

First he had woken with his smell sharp to the scent around him, just before he could remember were he was. With close eyes he was about to call out to his mom for the food, until, “Tsk, fucking finally.” Ejirou opened his eyes at the rough voice.

Right.

He looked over the shoulder, his eyes still lazy and heavy, to catch a glance of Bakugo’s kitchen and the movement in it. It took him a minute to get up and walk in to the kitchen. The food caught his eyes, Bakugo was serving two bowls of miso soup, next to plates of rise and eggs.

“Aww Bakubro that looks amazing!” He scratched the back of his neck, smiling wide, finally staring at Bakugo.

He found Bakugo staring back, just not at his eyes. He felt Bakugo’s eyes fell on to his body, warmth rising on his cheeks. Bakugo didn’t have any actual expression that told Ejirou what he was thinking. Ejirou looked away, with tense movements pull away from the chair and sat down breaking Bakugo’s stare. Something came back to his eyes and focused back on serving the soup.

Once the awkward had died down from Ejirou’s side, since Bakugo didn’t seem to feel the air around, Ejirou resumed a conversation thanking Bakugo. After breakfast they dressed up, Ejirou used the same cloth from yesterday, which was slightly gross but there was no time to go back to his house to change. He had still showered and used Bakugo’s things to get ready, and he had a spare toothbrush for Ejirou to use.

“For next time,” Ejirou said to Bakugo jokingly, winking at him, as he laid the red brush, already slightly messy from his teeth, on the glass next to Bakugo’s.

“As if Rock Head!” Bakugo was quick to answer with his mouth full of foam.

Later Ejirou would reflect how he smelled like Bakugo.

Finally, Ejirou walked back into the reality when someone called for his attention. “This is yours?”

He looked up and smiled brightly at the 6 armed man holding out his keys. “Yeah, thanks, dude.”

“No worry Kirishima,” Shoji answered in his always gentle voice. Ejirou had talked to him a few times before to ask things, reports, and just polite conversations. Like with most people on the station.

Most people were surprised by the fact he was Bakugo’s partner and that he was dead just yet. Ejirou understood that.

Kirishima caught up to him after waving Octopus goodbye. “You ready?” He glanced at Katsuki with a bright smile and sharp eyes.

“I was waiting for you, Spiky.” He kept walking to his desk, papers still messy from last night.

“Yeah! I know.” He laughed with a hint of admiration in his voice. Katsuki recognized that, but he decided to ignore it because it was obvious that Kirishima would admire him.

Or that’s what he told himself.

They sat just like the night before, one in front of the other lost in papers. Just that Katsuki kept looking up to Kirishima over his fields.

He thought Kirishima’s uniform was tight before, but his clothes in Kirishima made look that his uniform was too big on him. That hoodie fit Katsuki just fine, slightly tight but Kirishima had a broader torso than him that much was clear. It stretched on Kirishima’s shoulders as if it was going to rip at any moment. He had rolled the sleeves but the tension of the sleeve hugging his muscled arm made Katsuki think if that was cutting his circulation. The rest falling slightly loose on his waist since Katsuki was slightly taller that Kirishima.

Later that night he would notice that Kirishima not only a left a lingering trace of his smell on it but actually permanently stretched that hoodie.  

Kirishima never caught him staring.

***

“Okay, so if we relate the quick expansion of the quirk enhancer drugs with the rise of the Eights, and the more quiet movements of the League we should we get a good timeline of when they started working together and their movements in the last months,” Kirishima concluded as he glanced at the slight messy timeline on his desk.

“But why are they working together?” Katsuki frowned at the files on the desk, “The Eight had the underground market controlled…they don’t need the League to work…”

“Neither does the League, besides the disaster and mess they’ve managed to work by themselves and set just influence somehow…” Ejirou sighed in exasperation, “I guess we will know more on Thursday…until then we’ll just have to wait.”

Katsuki sneered, wait.

He wasn’t one to stand around and wait.

He was about to express it in the only way he knows how to, with anger. Until it was suppressed by the voiced ringing on his right ear.

“Kacchan!” He didn’t need to turn to see stupid Deku rushing to his cubicle. Less than a minute after he was resting his face over the wall of it, “I heard you need a-“ He stopped when he saw Kirishima. He turned to Bakugo, almost instantly, “You have a partner?”

Katsuki closed his eyes for what was coming.

Ejirou followed and found an embarrassed Bakugo. Eyes closed, away from the conversation, clenching teeth, head low in between his shoulders and light pink cheeks. “Yeah, fucking Aizawa said he would fire me if I didn’t work with Shitty Hair.”

“So you aren’t gonna to introduce me?” Kirishima teased after a second of silence.

Bakugo turned with a deadly stare he would probably have to deal after, but for now, this amused him, “Shitty Hair, Stupid Deku.” He pointed respectably. Ejirou and the guy just stared understanding.

Ejirou stood up as if the energy struck him, and “I’m Kirishima Ejirou, nice to meet you.”

The guy’s eye widen as he shook Kirishima’s hand, “Midoriya Izuku” Smiling charmingly. How…cute.

“You haven’t changed a bit Bakugo.” The new voice was colder, tipping on spiteful.

An arm rolled around Midoriya’s shoulder, Ejirou followed it to a very handsome man face that expressed just said emotions.

“Great you brought Half and half with you.” Bakugo rolled his eyes, and put his hands back on his pocket, “Where’s the rest of the Deku squad?”  

“Shouto!” Midoriya called out, pulling the hand hanging from his shoulder. The man’s eyes soften and his body relaxed at the touch. Easy to read the situation here, “Working, but we had some free time and we heard you need a unit.” Bakugo tensed up and rolled his eyes under Midoriya’s teasing eyes.

The man finally turned to him, his eyes were tense while still not giving any of his thoughts away. Ejirou felt himself both burning and freezing under his stare, “Todoroki Shouto, nice to meet you.” His voice was still distant but as cold as with Bakugo.

Todoroki.

Ejirou’s eyes widen. “Todoroki?” Then his eyes went cold, “I’m sorry man, you father…he was…hard to not know him you know?”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Enji Todoroki ascended to number one hero once All Might’s disappearance left the space wide and empty. Some analysts blame the fall of hero on Endevour. In handsight, it was too many factors for all to blame him when a country was left in panic of the missing Symbol of Peace.

Although he didn’t help the case. He didn’t know how to manage the new title. He certainly was a good hero, but he reacted with brute force at already broken society.

“Yeah,” And at the moment, under cold stares, he missed Bakugo’s direct anger.

“Well let’s not dwell in the past!” Midoriya reacted fast, clapping to catch everyone’s attention, “Why don’t go to eat lunch? I know Kacchan must have you working all day.”

Katsuki stared for a second at Deku before starting to complain.

***

No complaint was enough to stop Deku’s and Kirishima’s friendliness. It was disgusting. Half and half had seemed to think the same at the start of the outing, it was rare for them to agree on something but that of course deviated as the food was running out. He was still mostly keeping to himself and insulting Katsuki when he had a chance (which apparently Kirishima found amusing).

“So you’ve been friends since childhood?” Katsuki gave a quick glance to Deku, who returned the look nervously as they walked out of the establishment.

“Friends it’s not the word I would use…” Half and half mutter, cold washing his eyes again.

“We’ve known since we are kids, we weren’t exactly friendly…” Midoriya looked down and started playing with his finger, “We started to get along when we both moved here and started working at the force.” He gave Kirishima a small smile and Katsuki an understanding look.

Ejirou turned to Bakugo, he was looking away. At the glance of his eyes Ejirou could catch there was darkness, his jaw was tense and shoulders up hiding his neck.

“Oh well…” Ejirou turned to Bakugo, he was looking away. At the glance of his eyes Ejirou could catch there was darkness, his jaw was tense and shoulders up hiding his neck, “You said something about the unit?” Ejirou coughed, trying to diffuse the weird air.

Midoriya’s face lit up, “Oh yeah! Well, we can help with that!” Bakugo grumbled in the background but Kirishima ignored him, “Come on! Kacchan don’t you think if you are gonna do something you hate you can at least do it with people you know?” He grumbled again but didn’t complain, Midoriya waited for a moment and smiled wider and turn to Ejirou “That’s a yes.”

He smiled back, and took a quick glance at Bakugo at his left, “Yeah, I know, I speak Bakugo.” Midoriya laughed and Todoroki merely chuckled as Bakugo blushed which Ejirou thought as the accomplishment of the day.

Before it was cut by an explosion and yells. No one question anything they were already running against the crowd of people running away.

It was two blocks away, they were a couple of police on the scene. One with a water quirk, trying to put of the fire and the other one yelling at the pedestrian directions. It took them a moment to completely process the scene. There was a pair of cars on fire and smoking, the fire rapidly expanding and the smoking making the air heavy. The streets missing chunks. A loud moan, followed by another explosion called their eyes to focused on the monster in the middle of the street stomping on another car.  On the floor, there were three officers, two normal people. Only two of them stood back up after the explosion, one of each group. The officer grew her hands large and started hitting the large torso of the beast.

Kendo… Ejirou recognized already running again.

It reacted as if someone tapped his shoulder, his open jaw full of sharp of teeth, eyes missing the reasoning of a human. His arms hanging on the side of his body as he turned to her. Kendo jumped to the side avoiding just barely the hit. The best started moving forward to them and the unconscious body on the floor. When he was pushed by first an invisible force, as he got closer and the smoke filled the space. They realized it was the wind. The pedestrian stood on front of the bodys, next to Kendo. Her hands up creating a wall of wind. Pushing it when the monster stood too close.

“Kendo!” Kirishima finally called, she turned in the air, avoiding the punch of the thing.

There was a moment of recognition before she fell on to the floor.

“What’s going on?” Ejirou yelled, activating his quirk on his body already ripping part of his uniform.

“I don’t know!” Kendo looked straight at the thing in front of him, receiving the waves of wind barely stepping back, “It just appeared. We have tried holding it back but..I’ve never seen something so strong.”

“I…I can only hold for so long!” They turned to the unknown voice, she was out breath, her voice barely trespassing the noise of the panic of the city, her body clearly barely standing.

“Then what the fuck are we waiting?!” Bakugo yelled just before jumping over the scene.

“Kacchan!” But Katsuki was no longer listening what was behind him. He never did.

Neither did Ejirou often enough, before it was a complete thought he followed. With a hard punch on the chest.

“God damn it.” Todoroki pressed his hands on the floor creating a freezing path before leaving the beast legs frozen and going. But before it could reach his chest, the thing punched away Bakugo and Kirishima from his arms. And twisting it’s body until it ripped. In gross shock, they stared the things jumped from it’s frozen legs to the nothing. It was twitching and twisting in the floor.

Midoriya stepped forward behind Todoroki, “Don’t give him time, he’s…” At the moment his muscles started twitching, growing, “Regenerating.”

“Fucking disgusting.” He didn’t have to say it twice, the least things Katsuki was missing was a desire to wait. He pointed and blasted an explosion onto the thing.

Everyone took a step back from the impact but to all of their surprises the thing was not only still moving but standing.

Running towards Katsuki faster than his eye could catch it, with the explosion blocking his vision. Ejirou though reacted to jumping on to the beast moving in another direction, left to Bakugo. The monster turned grabbing Kirishima, making take the hit against the building. Destroying the wall.

Even the beast stood in until one of the pieces of concrete fell back on the ground instead of the mountain of remains.

“Fuck, if weren’t me someone could’ve get hurt.”

Katsuki breathe again, and smiled, there he stood, unbreakable.”Ready Spiky?”

All his body, his face was all sharp edges, and strength. “I was waiting for you Blasty.” 

Kirishima threw himself against the thing. Pushing it until it fell on his feet. Finally softing just barely, he couldn’t keep the form for long enough just yet. Todoroki immediately popped out of the ice wall they hid behind, freezing its body. But this time it didn’t stay still it moved, with a speed that no one with that massive size should be able to accomplish.

Midoryias eyes following the scene, thoughts rushing just as fast and mumbles hidden by the noise of explosions, destruction, and chaos. The best it’s not avoiding anything but the ice. It just kept allowing the punches to enter. The way its body twitches. He barely moves when anything hits him.

The girl next to him pulls him from his arm, “What are you doing?” She yelled, but he didn’t answer he just turned.

“He is absorbing the punching! There has to be a limit!”

The four on the other side of the melting wall, jumped on to it, taking turns, not giving it time to recover, to breath or think. Midoriya tried looking for weak points around its body, but before he could finish scanning the best yelled an inhuman complain and swing his arm. Sending a wind current strong to finally break their wall sending both Bakugo and Kirishima to it with surreal strength. Todoroki and Kendo falling on the other side. The girl fell on his knees in front of everyone, both of her hands on the floor, the current diverting its direction to surround her. Slowly she stood, her hands cupped in direction to the thing. The current now twirling on its direction to the monster. It pushed him just far away enough, leaving a trace on the trace as its body dragged on concrete. Turning off the fire as it went.

Midoriya’s eyes widen and he rushed to the girl, he caught her before she could fell back on her knees. With worry in his eyes, he turned to her, “I need your help.”

He turned to Bakugo and Kirishima walking up to them. Kirishima determined, looking past them, so did Bakugo with more of an angry focused frown.

“I have an idea.” Their eyes finally focusing on him.

***

Midoriya was holding the girl’s shoulders, behind him an ice wall. The girl stood her hands cupped again, with the difference that Bakugo kneeled in front of her and Kirishima stood in front of him. Back to be formed by unrecognizable sharp pieces.

Todoroki and Kendo clenched their teeth as their fell back tired. Todoroki sweating both cold and hot in the constant exchange of temperature, Kendo’s arms heavier than ever before.

“Ready?” Bakugo yelled, his fingers tensing up, the air around them starting to twirl as the girl took a deep breath.

“No!” Midoriya yelled, “We only have one shot!”

Wait.

The beast set his eyes on Kirishima’s. He crossed his arms.

Wait.

It walked forwards, slow at first. No more need of Todoroki’s and Kendo’s pushing.

Wait.

It started increasing its speed, it’s limps haggling liveless.

“Now!”

He didn’t have to tell Bakugo twice. It was less than a second before his finger’s twitched and realizing the tension in the explosion, leaving a trace of pain behind. At the same moment there was missing air around them, instead, it twirled focused in a tunnel filled with red and smoke. In between lost colors, Kirishima barely breathing, faster than he could process.

Focus.

Hardening, it made him the strongest shield and the strongest spear.

Unbreakable.

It was only when the impact was over when he could breathe again when the noise if his ear stopped pulsating on his ears and he could hear the world again. The monster rested on his back, freeze from his head to his feet. He stood up, legs slightly shaking and turned. Everything had been pushed away or to the side of the street, Midoryia crushed by not only the girl but Bakugo against the ice wall.

Kirishima sighed in relieve. He looked back up again when he heard claps all around. A couple of people and the officers those were busy before, and a few others. 

At the moment, Ejirou wonders if that’s what being a Hero felt.