#I’m so happy to finally have him officially on the roster

[mrsaltieri-real]

First Love, Familiar Love (Billy Loomis x Fem!AFAB!Reader)

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: language, smut, oral, (fem receiving) fingering, p in v, creampie, cheating, (kinda) first love, semi-public sex, light dirty talk, pre-established toxic relationship.

A/N: I’m so happy to have (finally) written my first full length Billy Loomis fic! I’ve done a lot of Ethan and a fuck ton of Mickey, how dare I have taken so long to write for the fine as fuck OG! Going to dabble in some poly!Ghostface soon which I’m very excited about but for now, sit back, relax and I hope you enjoy!

@darklylucid I have a feeling your Billy loving self will get a kick outta this for sure ;)

You’d never given much thought to relationships since your last. The thought of never having another first filled you with an undeniable sense of unease. No more first kisses, first date, first fuck, what was the point?

Why commit yourself to a long life of repetition when you could simply carry on having firsts? Especially when you couldn’t have the person you’d already had your firsts with anymore.

Billy was someone you hadn’t paid much attention to, not since the two of you had ended your very brief yet even more intense relationship a few years back.

The two of you were young, stupid and each other's firsts. It wasn’t a healthy relationship by any means, and it ended as such. Even though you knew it was definitely for the best, you knew there was a part of you that didn’t think it was over. Not yet.

He was hot, undoubtedly having grown into himself over the years when you’d stopped paying attention, but he had also grown more serious. He constantly looked like he was deep in thought, gnawing on the tip of his pen in class whilst clearly not paying attention on the few occasions you’d find your eyes drifting over to him, seeing him completely lost in his own mind.

You didn’t run in the same social circle anymore, inside of school or out. Although that being the case, your friend and colleague at the video store, Randy most certainly did.

It never made much sense as to why Randy would hang around with the likes of Billy Loomis. Other than their shared affiliation of horror movies, they seemed to merely tolerate each other, if that. You were met with the angry rambling of what Billy had done that day from Randy, listening to the boy curse about how much of an asshole he was.

How could you possibly begin to forget about Billy when he was brought up practically all of the time?

“If he’s so much of an asshole, stop hanging out with the guy.” You’d suggested after a particularly long rant from Randy about him, mindlessly drumming your fingers on the counter.

Randy scoffed, pulling the red vine he was chewing on out of his mouth before replying, “I’ve been friends with the rest of them for years, I’m not just gonna stop hanging out with them because Billy Loomis is a fucking asshole.”

You rolled your eyes, sarcastically holding up your hands in surrender. “Fine, fine, whatever. You go home and chill the hell out, I’ll close up.”

Randy hopped down from the register, patting you on the shoulder as you said goodbye.

Being here by yourself was always better anyway. You liked to clean and organize, finding order in the never ending chaos, but it never surprised you just how messy the store would get by the time closing rolled around. The popcorn machine Randy had recommended to the manager like an idiot needed a thorough deep cleaning, kernels were scattered everywhere, tapes were placed in the wrong section, some of them somehow seemed to be missing altogether.

Fucking mahem.

You heard the tingling of the bell above the door as it swung open. “Sorry, we’re closed,” you called out, not bothering to look up from your sweeping.

The door clicked closed quietly and you briefly paused before glancing up.

Billy stood leaning against the counter, his fingers drumming lightly against the withered old wood. He was quite clearly relishing in your confused expression as you looked back at him with cautious eyes.

“Hey… Billy.” You said, eyeing him briefly. “Randy’s gone home.”

“Oh, I know. I was waiting for him to leave.” Billy picked up a tape that was laying beside him, flipping it over to read the cover.

Your confusion and curiosity continued to grow, but it turned into annoyance when you realised you’d actually have to continue to talk to him.

“That’s kinda creepy.” You muttered, letting the broom rest against a glass case. “We’re closed.” You said again, pointing at the clock.

He didn’t look at it, his eyes flickering up from the case to favour resting on you instead.

“Are you fucking him?”

You looked at him, eyebrows arching a fraction. “Am I fucking who?”

“Randy.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that burst through your lips, shaking your head in disbelief as you grabbed the broom again. You’d forgotten the fucking nerve of this guy. “Go home, Billy.”

You heard the clatter of the tape hit the counter as he began to stride toward you. “So, you are?”

“Yeah, I’m not dignifying that with a response.” He stopped about a foot away, his hand resting on the freshly cleaned glass display with all the rare tapes. “Can you, like, not? I just cleaned that.” You sighed, stepping forward to slap his hand away.

He didn’t move as you did so, seeming to find your reaction more funny than anything. “You haven’t changed much.” He commented, bringing his free hand up to swipe some loose hair out of his face.

You ignored his comment, looking up at him and feeling nothing but irritation. “Billy, what do you want, seriously? Because the sooner I clean up here, the sooner I can go home.”

Billy shrugged, drumming his fingers against the glass. “I don’t know, I was walking home, saw Randy leave, noticed you were by yourself. Thought you’d appreciate the company.”

“Mmhm. Sure.” You sighed, moving to step around him and deciding to just act like he wasn’t there. That’s when it hit you, the all too familiar scent of his cologne. It smelled exactly like the one you’d gotten him for his birthday a couple of years back. The smell rekindled the brief yet fond memories you’d had with him and it made your heart skip a beat.

Billy had noticed your pause and his face turned from indifferent to slightly concerned. He said your name, tilting his head down to look at you.

You looked up at him, blinking a few times before shaking your head. “Go home, Billy.” You said again, though your voice wasn’t anywhere near as confident.

“I miss you.”

Those three words made you flinch, your grip on the handle of the broom tightening. You didn’t want him to miss you, you didn’t want him to be thinking about you. Didn’t he have a girlfriend now?

I asked him as much and he half smiled, shaking his head. “Sidney? Nah, I’m seeing her, sure, but it’s not… like that.”

“Oh, so your girlfriend isn’t putting out so you thought you’d pop along and see if I would?” Billy seemed to ignore you, his eyes trailing across your body. You felt your cheeks heat up as he did, those annoyingly magnetic brown eyes felt like they were boring straight into your damn soul.

“No, like I said I was walking home and saw you by yourself.” His smile grew a touch, watching your face for any kind of reaction.

Liar. But why did you find yourself falling for it?

“I’m not fucking Randy.” You said quietly. He finally looked into your eyes, the half smile turning into a grin. “Oh, I know. But I needed to try and start a conversation with you somehow, didn’t I?“

You caught yourself smiling as you shook your head. “Asshole.”

Billy chuckled as he brought up his hand, letting his fingers glide across your cheekbone. “Missed you.” He said again, his voice much softer this time without a hint of teasing.

Why were you falling for this crap? Was it because he was your first? First fucking everything? Probably. But you caught yourself not caring as you leaned into his warm touch, letting the familiarity wash over you entirely.

“Missed you.” You echoed softly.

His smell was intoxicating, familiar. Who cares if you’d hardly spoken to him in years? Who cares that it took you this long to get over him entirely.

His lips touched yours before you finished your train of thought. Comfortable. Familiar. You felt yourself melt into it, your fingers curling around the soft material of his plaid shirt as you pulled yourself closer to him, his thumb still gently grazing your cheek.

Fuck, he’d missed you. How your lips tasted, how your breath would quiver and shake every time he was close to you. He couldn’t remember why he was ever stupid enough to let you go entirely.

Before he and Stu put their plan into motion, he knew he had to do this, he had to be with you at least once more time. Taste you, touch you, feel you. Because once he was “serious” with Sidney, he wouldn’t be able to lead you on like that. Not you, you were always his.

His kiss turned more possessive than gentle, his hands sliding down to your waist and under your shirt, his blunt fingers digging into your soft, bare skin. He felt your breathing hitch against him as he pulled your body impossibly closer to his, letting you feel him hardening against you.

It wasn’t long before he’d picked you up and placed you on the glass, hoisting your skirt around your waist and carefully pulling your baby pink panties down your legs, letting his fingers brush your inner thigh as he did.

“Fuck, look how fucking wet you are for me.” He groaned, sliding his finger between your velvety folds to collect the moisture before he brought it to his lips. You were pathetically oversensitive, your cunt clenching around nothing the moment he touched you.

He liked that, he’d forgotten how needy you were, how much your body reacted to the slightest of advances. He couldn’t help but smile as he continued to tease, fingers grazing your sensitive skin, barely even touching you.

It dawned on you how long it had been since you’d been touched like this, and you craved more.

“Please, Billy.” You whined, beginning to grow uncomfortable with the lack of stimulation.

For once, he didn’t need much prompting.

His mouth latched onto your aching clit, sucking at it hungrily and growing at your familiar taste he’d missed so much. His hands pushed your legs further apart for better access, feeling how you throbbed against his mouth. Your hands automatically fell into his soft hair, biting your bottom lip as you tugged at it, your head falling back.

He’d been good with his mouth before, but he’d definitely gotten better. His skilled tongue flicked over your clit, one of his hands moving from your thigh to plunge two fingers inside of your cunt as he continued to lick and suck.

“Oh!” You groaned out, fingers tightening in his hair as you pulled his face impossibly closer to you. He curled up his fingers in response, pressing against the spongy tissue and making your body jerk in response. He knew your body far too well, and had clearly never forgotten how to make you respond to him.

He didn’t want you to cum, not yet. He pulled away all too soon, smiling as he saw the all too familiar mixture of turned on and pissed off gracing your features. He straightened up, his hand moving to grip the base of your hair tightly, making you look up into his brown eyes.

“Do you want it?” He asked, voice smooth and even as ever. All you could do was faintly whisper “yes” in response. That’s all he needed.

Billy didn’t drop his eyes from yours as he smoothly unbuckled his belt, pulling it off and discarding it thoughtlessly, his pants coming down shortly after, but only part way down his ass. He just didn’t want to waste any time.

One of his hands dropped to your waist, the other pumped his cock a few times before nestling the tip at the entrance of your aching cunt. You whined softly, wriggling a little only to be grounded by his large hand before he pushed himself inside of your soaked hole.

You couldn’t help the gasp as he filled you, suddenly feeling deliciously full. Familiarly full. He seemed to feel it too, a soft groan in your ear as he pulled you closer to him by your hips.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this cunt so much.” He sighed into your hair, savouring the feeling of your cunt engulfing him for the first time in years. You were growing more and more impatient, needing movement and friction and he chuckled at you desperate movements from under his grounding hands. “I forgot how impatient you are.”

“Billy, just… Fuck me for God’s sake.” You’d meant for it to come out as an order, but it came out as a plea. He chuckled again, slowly rolling his hips back just to snap the forward again sharply, the sensation making you jolt and sigh into his shoulder.

“So bossy, aren’t you, sweetheart? Some things never change, hm?”

You ignore his teasing voice, your focus entirely surrounding how good his cock made you feel so fucking effortlessly. He hardly even had to try and here you were, already a leaking mess for him.

He held you more securely, one of his hands firmly pressing against the small of your back whilst the other swiftly tucked under your knee, holding your leg more securely around his waist as he fucked you.

He knew your body better than you did, he knew what drove you wild. The kisses he scattered across your neck and down your collarbone drove you insane. The way his fingers would dig into your skin, his breathing in your ear, the filth he was whispering to you…

“Fuck, Billy please don’t stop.” You begged him, pushing yourself down against him greedily, which he thoroughly enjoyed. He continued fucking your on the glass display case as he laughed out, “Think I’m gonna? No fucking way. Been thinking about getting back into this cunt for far too long.”

His words made you moan louder, your fingers clinging to his bicep, nails digging into the toned muscle harshly. He let out something akin to a growl, his own fingers digging into your soft skin hard enough to undoubtedly leave bruises in their wake.

He fucked you in a way you feared only her was able to, slamming into your convulsing pussy vigorously, ruthlessly. Your head fell back, eyes beginning to roll as you felt yourself being dragged closer and closer to the edge. Your clit bumped against him with every thrust, the stimulation only making you feel weaker and weaker. He watched your face, the look of pure ecstasy only making him more and more desperate to cum. No way he was about to pull out.

“Billy… Close…” You managed to utter out. In the past, that was his cue to prepare to pull out. But right now? Fuck that. He held you tighter, his fingers sliding from your hip to your clit to drag circles across it, feeling your cunt tense around him as he did.

“Do it.” He said, his own voice a little breathless.

You couldn’t think, could only focus on how fucking good he was making you feel. Your body stuff ended for a second before you came on his cock, your head falling forward onto his shoulder as you heard him let out a loud groan and a second later, his hot cum filling up your still convulsing pussy. But you didn’t care. Your body remained flush against his for a couple of seconds, soaking in the feeling of his cum filling you up so deliciously.

He gradually softened, pulling himself out of your stuffed cunt and casually pulling his pants back up before grabbing his belt.

You remained sitting on the glass case, Billy’s spunk mixed with your own wetness leaking out of you and making a mess of the glass. He couldn’t help but smile, shrugging once.

“Well, shit, you’ve got more of a cleanup to do now, my bad.”

You rolled your eyes at him, waiting for your thighs to stop trembling before jumping down from the display case and grabbing your panties, about to pull them back on before they were snatched out of your hand.

“What are you-“

“I think I should keep them. As a memento, you know?” He interrupted, the stupid smile that got you back into this situation illuminating his pretty face.

“Oh, right. Forgot how much you like to steal my underwear. Weirdo.” You muttered, squirming a little at the feeling of Billy’s cum leaking out of you onto your inner thighs.

Billy watched you squirm for a moment, the smile never faltering. “Mm. You know, I wish I’d cum inside you before. I like seeing you like this.”

You scoffed at him, shaking your head. “I have to clean up.” You said pointedly.

Billy raised an eyebrow a fraction, eyes flickering down toward your stained thighs.

“You’re telling me.”

[britcision]

Woooo I’m getting through these… so, fun fact, there’s another two lil snippets covering the same time frame as this one, but they’re gonna be over on the other lil series on AO3 because they’re a) longer and b) directly the Kabumisu storyline

So, y’know, check that out and go follow that series too if you’re into that, I’m gonna try and get the not-smut one out first because it pretty much covers what’s going on during the day for this bit, and where Mithrun’s gonna end up

But for today, our favourite rogue teleporter is going extra rogue! Luckily it’s not like Kabru was sleeping well either, so he can wrangle him back to bed.

And cuddle. For body-heat reasons, obviously.

Warnings: body horror in the context of nightmares, neglect of Mithrun by himself and also his caregivers

AO3 link:

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After Dinner Mints - Definitely Not Watching You Sleep

If he was honest with himself, Kabru had assumed he wouldn’t have much to do with the Canaries now that everything was over. Unless they still planned on arresting him and returning him to Milsiril, but that wasn’t to be (thankfully).

He knew they’d be staying around until the dragon had been fully eaten, and then he assumed they’d sail back west and he’d never see any of them again.

If he was even more honest with himself, that thought ached, just a little. Which was ridiculous; he’d known the captain barely more than a week, and the others for the change between that and the final battle. They were hardly close comrades.

It was probably just trauma bonding; they’d been through a lot together, and Captain Mithrun especially had saved his life half a dozen times. And relied on him for just as much, if not more.

But they were out of the dungeon, and Captain Mithrun’s squad would obviously take over his care again; why would they leave their vulnerable captain anywhere near Kabru? He’d already kidnapped him once.

And then Laios had come and asked him where the captain was, and they’d found him under a tree. Waiting to die, and while he wasn’t taking any actions to speed up the process, he also wasn’t willing to do anything to slow it.

Kabru had not taken it well; he could admit that much, but since it had also worked he wasn’t about to apologise either.

It had seemed obvious that he’d be the one to stay with Mithrun and take care of him that day. He’d half expected to be turned away the next day, and mostly only went to the clearing that morning to check the captain was still moving.

But no, the prisoners had welcomed him cheerfully, and even directed him to go and find the captain himself when he wasn’t already up a day later. (With ulterior motives; all four of them shared a damn tent, and Cithis had been snuggled close enough to Mithrun that their silhouette almost looked like one multilimbed creature.)

He’d even officially been added to the captain’s care roster by Flamela, the other Canary captain who seemed to hate pretty much everyone. So by the third day, he’d fallen into an easy routine: get up, grab a cheap breakfast at the inn, and wander to the Canaries’ encampment to get the captain’s schedule from Pattadol.

Officially, he’d have about a four hour shift at some point in the day where he’d be expected to come and take care of the captain. Unofficially, he could wander over pretty much whenever he liked, and the convicts were all very happy to “trade”. Not that they ever came back on his shift, of course.

Not that he really wanted them to either. Kabru was no cook, and while he did want to help, he… wasn’t good at anything relevant. Anything except dealing with Captain Mithrun.

He could carry pots and pans, he could wash dishes, he could move around vegetables and fruits and touching the actual dragon meat made him want to scream but when it was frozen he could pretend it wasn’t meat at all. He could, theoretically, just peel vegetables all day and be helping.

But he was good with Captain Mithrun, and apparently no one else was, because this morning, on the fourth day he’d been up early and gone for a walk before the sun rose (there may have been dragon-meat related dreams involved). And he’d found the captain pulling apart more of the dragon’s carcass, although not for long, since he’d collapsed half way through Kabru trying to argue him out of the hole.

It was deep enough that Kabru had to put him on the elevator they’d been using to get the meat out, then climb the ladder and haul him up that way. And the bastard had tried to roll off the platform. Couldn’t even stand, and he still wanted to keep going.

Luckily Kabru’d had the foresight to put him in the middle, so he’d had the whole thing up and on the ground before Captain Mithrun reached the edge. Hauling the stubborn asshole up and onto his back, Kabru frowned around. Someone should have been keeping an eye on him.

“Who’s meant to be at your tent, Captain?” Because of course, Captain Mithrun hadn’t been set up with the rest of the Canaries, down at one of the beaches. He’d kicked up a fuss the first night (well, kept turning around and walking away the second no one was physically holding him, and Pattadol had declared it not worth the trouble), and wardens got their own tents anyway, so his was just off the clearing and a little further in the woods. The plan was to both keep the carcass out of his line of sight and to keep anyone from wandering into it by accident.

But he needed someone else to make him sleep anyway, so Kabru had made sure a second cot was inside so they wouldn’t have to leave him alone. Of course, Kabru had his bed in his usual room at the inn, and wasn’t really all that into camping so he hadn’t pushed for a night shift.

He didn’t know sleeping spells anyway. Although apparently they weren’t particularly effective.

Captain Mithrun huffed impatiently against his neck, but didn’t have the energy to try and poke him around.

“No one. Cithis put me to sleep. I assume she left,” he grumbled almost inaudibly, and Kabru bumped him a little higher to try and rouse him and also move the grumbles closer to his ear.

He was pretty sure the captain also called him an oaf under his breath, but he couldn’t prove it.

Honestly, he’d assumed Cithis would especially enjoy an opportunity for a more private place to sleep when he’d put the second cot in. He’d have to… half way to the tent, he paused.

“Did she do it wrong?” He asked, suddenly uncertain.

The Canaries had been drugging or enchanting Captain Mithrun to sleep for fourteen years. Cithis specifically had him sleeping in late yesterday. He shouldn’t have been up at all.

“No. Doesn’t always work,” the captain huffed, his head flopping forward so a pointy chin stabbed at Kabru’s shoulder.

“That’s more of a reason for her to stick around in case it needs redoing,” Kabru grumbled, but got going again anyway.

He’d probably just exhausted his mana again, especially if he’d been going part way through the night. Sleep wasn’t going to be optional now, even if Kabru had to watch over him personally.

At least the tent was protected from the early morning chill with a few additional enchantments, and they had a proper cot along with the bedroll. Which was still Falin Touden’s, so no one had done anything at all to the set up Kabru had made himself.

He’d be annoyed about it later. For now, he moved the captain carefully onto the bed and hissed in irritation as he noticed something else.

The captain had been in full uniform, so Kabru had assumed he’d dressed himself as part of getting up. If he had, he hadn’t bothered putting on his fucking boots.

The elf was barefoot, and had been standing on frozen meat for who knew how long. His feet were a nasty purplish grey that did not belong on a human of any variety, even one as pale as the captain. Cupping one with both hands, he drew a line of pressure with one thumb and waited for the white mark left behind to fade.

It didn’t.

Captain Mithrun frowned at him.

“Ow.” It didn’t sound particularly emphatic or like an actual exclamation of pain, but that didn’t mean anything.

Beginning to actually worry, Kabru pushed the elf down onto his back, sat on the end of the cot, and tugged up his tunic so he could press both fucking freezing feet directly to his torso. Captain Mithrun tried to pull them away, but Kabru held on tight.

“I know it’s uncomfortable, Captain, and probably painful, but your feet are dangerously cold. You can’t just stand on a block of ice without your boots, what were you thinking?” Kabru asked sharply, well aware that it was probably a futile question.

He wasn’t sure if Captain Mithrun could even feel hot or cold, but one of the first things that went with this kind of injury was sensation. Warming back up was always painful too, but at least Kabru’s body heat couldn’t accidentally burn him.

He did have to shift position though, wincing as he moved the captain’s feet to a spot they hadn’t already leached all the warmth from.

It took a moment for him to notice he hadn’t actually gotten any kind of response at all, and he frowned up at the captain’s face again. Captain Mithrun looked… embarrassed? He wasn’t even pouting as hard as he had before.

When he met Kabru’s eyes, he even looked away again.

“I wasn’t. I just…” the next words from anyone else would probably have been “wanted to help”, and it made Kabru desperately curious about what the captain would say, but apparently he didn’t know the end of the sentence either. He fell silent again.

Huffing softly, Kabru rubbed at the tops of both feet quickly, hoping to generate some extra warmth. The good news was that they were already less grey than they had been before; they were still more purple than a normal skin tone, but they were picking up more red.

Captain Mithrun just stared at them, brows puckered like they’d let him down rather than the other way round. He also kept shifting them uncomfortably, which made Kabru’s fingers catch on his toes, and Kabru was running out of stomach that wasn’t already cold to the touch.

Gritting his teeth, he shifted Mithrun’s feet a little higher at the next change of position, tugging his shirt and tunic back down over them as much as he could. The captain pulled another face, toes curling against the upper part of Kabru’s chest, and he covered both feet quickly over his clothes with his hands.

“I know, Captain, bear with me. Maybe try to remember this part the next time you’re wandering off somewhere and check you have your boots?” He tried, more than a little exasperated.

Mithrun shot him a sharp look, which faded almost immediately into that same strange little frown, his eye drifting straight back off Kabru’s face. His feet still felt icy against Kabru’s skin.

Maybe he should actually get someone who knew some healing magic… except he didn’t want the captain walking around anymore, and leaving him alone was out for obvious reasons. He’d have to carry him, and Kabru was at least aware that he himself should warm his core back up before leaving the warmed tent for the cold night.

He took a moment to bring one of Captain Mithrun’s feet back out of his shirt, checking the colour and doing the pressure test again. Definitely more red than purple now, and the white line he drew began fading back to red as he watched, if not as fast as he’d like.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to get someone to check later today. Pattadol, probably. She was a good healer, and would deal with Cithis leaving the captain alone for the night too. Because that absolutely wasn’t happening again.

Letting out a little sigh of relief, Kabru cupped one frozen foot in both hands and half smiled at the captain.

“The good news is I don’t think there’s any harm done, but we’ll get Pattadol to check in the morning. If they keep hurting or you get any numbness or tingling you have to tell someone, okay?” He asked, not really hoping for much of anything.

Captain Mithrun sunk down like he was trying to hide in his own tight collar, frowning past Kabru at the wall of the tent. Even the quiet “I’m fine” was less annoyed or bored than usual.

Kabru’s smile widened in spite of himself. Now that he’d gotten the sudden panic under control and the worry with it, he had to admit that the captain was kind of sweet when he obviously felt bad about something. Like a little kid who hadn’t expected to need rescue.

That raised a new worry, because Kabru had a sudden dark suspicion that he was playing the role of Milsiril in that little analogy and he did not like it. He’d been in the captain’s place more often than not with his stepmother, although he’d like to believe he’d been less careless with his own safety.

He’d like to. He wasn’t sure he actually believed it.

Clearing his throat, he pulled the captain’s other foot out for a quick check. Both were definitely looking better already, still starkly red instead of their usual pallor but at least his circulation had started up again. The white lines left by his fingers faded, still not quickly, but they filled in with red as he watched.

“I wasn’t out long,” Mithrun put in quietly, his eye on Kabru’s face until the moment that Kabru looked up to meet it, and then it skittered away again. His lower lip slid out in a pout that was definitely less irritated than usual. “I wasn’t awake long. I just. Didn’t wait.”

His gaze skittered over to the door of the tent and Kabru sighed softly, covering his feet with both hands again and tucking them into his lap. He wasn’t about to remove any layers to give the captain direct skin access there, but it was the warmest spot he had and the heat in the tent would help too.

“Honestly Captain, you shouldn’t have had to. I’m just glad you got… dressed…” about to shake his head, Kabru stopped, brows drawing down into a frown.

One of the things Mithrun had been emphatic about was that if he had a routine, he could usually follow the steps. When he was in a dungeon or on a mission, that broke the routine, and carving the dragon had been a singular mission for him until now.

But when he had a dungeon or a mission, he didn’t do any steps.

And now he’d actually taken the initiative to pull a corner of the blanket from under his body and tugged it over his head. Kabru’s lips twitched again, but he got the urge to smile under control very quickly.

And helped the captain rearrange the blanket so that he was wrapped in it on all sides to keep what little body heat he had in. Once the elf was securely burrito’d (except for his feet, which Kabru was keeping custody of until they weren’t noticeably cold against skin), he rested a hand gently on a covered knee.

“Captain, you didn’t get dressed did you?”

The top half of his head having been excavated during the wrapping, Mithrun made another attempt to turtle back into it, his lone eye peeking out at Kabru.

“No.” It was muffled, but still audible. And honestly, even the idea that the captain could be embarrassed by his own behaviour was news to Kabru; new enough that it might not be the actual explanation.

He’d never shown any indications when Kabru had literally caught him mid collapse, or even really any gratitude. Even hiding to avoid the nagging would be a good sign though, since it might be part of a desire to avoid it.

Usually he just bitched about it until Kabru shut up or was distracted by something trying to eat them.

That little revelation could wait though, since now Kabru was suddenly angry.

“Have you even had a change of clothes? We’re not in the dungeon anymore, Captain, I understand you’re still on a mission but there’s no reason you can’t have clean clothes or comfortable sleeping things! Didn’t Cithis even try?!”

On the ships there wasn’t a practical way to do any kind of laundry, and thanks to the changeling spores Kabru had actually washed himself and his clothing a lot more in their last dungeon adventure than he usually would. Wearing the same things for days at a time wasn’t a problem, when there wasn’t any alternative.

They were practically in town. There were plenty of alternatives.

Captain Mithrun poked his head out a little further, brows drawn down as he examined Kabru through his dark eye. Whatever he was looking for, he either found it or gave up quickly, and lay back.

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t mind, and it saves time.”

Frustration rising, Kabru forced it back down and took a few deep, calming breaths. There was half a chance he’d ordered her not to make him change in the first place, although she shouldn’t have listened. It wasn’t like she was particularly diligent with orders.

Either way, getting angry or upset with him was pointless. It wouldn’t do anything useful, and wouldn’t make him more likely to listen to anything else Kabru said. At most, he’d get angry back and that would be much worse.

Five slow, deep breaths later and Kabru shook his head, looking around the tent.

“Do you have sleeping clothes, Captain? Whatever you’d usually use?” He had no idea how much it’d be, given how little time Canaries in the field spent with any laundry beyond whatever cleaning spells someone might know, but surely there was something.

The captain stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head. Didn’t expound on it or explain, but Kabru had already spotted a solution.

Laios’ shirt was still bunched in a corner of the tent.

Tucking the captain’s feet carefully into the blanket, he hurried to grab it, shaking it out and frowning at it. It had been cleaned at least once since everything had ended, which was good. It might not be pristine anymore, but it was better than nothing. And, being in the tent, it was warmer than the clothes Mithrun was actually wearing.

Turning back to the bed, he looked at the wrapped and round bundle of elf and hesitated again. Would asking the captain to change now do more harm than good?

It’d depend if he’d been sweating into his other clothes, because if they were wet they’d have to come off. Honestly, Kabru should have worried about that sooner, but he’d been distracted by the state of his feet. If they were that bad, how bad was the rest of him?

Chewing on his lower lip, Kabru sat back on the edge of the cot and frowned at the captain, who was just staring at the ceiling. In the end, he had to ask. It was just simpler.

“Can you feel the cold, Captain?”

Captain Mithrun glanced over at him again, then back to the tent.

“Yes. I just-”

“Don’t care, I understand,” Kabru agreed, sagging a little in relief. That would help. “I do care though, Captain. If you get sick, you won’t be able to move or do anything, even use your mana. So we have to get you warm again, right?”

There was a long moment where Mithrun looked over again, actually keeping eye contact as he examined Kabru. Who tried not to visibly fret. With the demon, reframing things to follow the captain’s desire had always resulted in immediate compliance.

Maybe even his desire to help Falin be eaten wasn’t a whole desire yet. Not so powerful as his need to find the demon again, certainly.

But finally he nodded, shuffling under the blanket for a while. Kabru was about to ask what he was doing when a hand finally emerged, pale and cold.

“The cape too. More layers will help.”

He managed to get changed without actually getting out of his blanket wrapping, passing out the cold and slightly frosted armour instead of just dropping the blanket when Kabru pointed out he’d need the heat.

In the meantime, Kabru found a second uniform under the cot, with clean trousers, underwear, and socks that he immediately passed over, along with the extra cape. The one he’d used for cutting was out of the question.

The captain let Kabru check his temperature without question, at his temples and then both his arms, and a finger down the back of the overlarge shirt to get a feel for his core.

The elf always felt cold to Kabru, but at least the rest of him wasn’t so badly off as his feet had been. It really mustn’t have been long, but it shouldn’t have happened at all.

What if Kabru hadn’t had that nightmare? What if he hadn’t gone for an early walk? Who would even have found the captain, and when?

Did the Canaries even have an established night shift? What the hell did they think the second cot was for? Why was Kabru the only person even trying to account for the captain’s needs?!

Shaking his head, Kabru forced himself to let it go. He could have a word with Pattadol in a few more hours when the sun was fully up, and. They.

No, that wouldn’t work. Cithis definitely Did Not Like Pattadol, and going through her wouldn’t make Cithis want to listen. He’d have to find a way to appeal to her self interest directly; maybe asking her if she could heal Captain Mithrun, and see the risk herself.

It wasn’t like Kabru would always be around to catch him when he was doing something dangerous.

And since he’d be sticking around here for the next few hours, and also needed to warm up (and try to get the captain to sleep)… Glancing around, Kabru fetched the second unused blanket from the other cot, then nodded to the captain.

“I’m cold now too. We’ll warm up faster if we use both blankets and share body heat, if you don’t mind?” Asking was mostly a formality, since the captain didn’t seem to care who did anything, but Kabru wasn’t going to stop trying.

Having desires could be like a muscle, so encouraging him to care about anything in any way might be helpful later on.

This time, Captain Mithrun considered him for a moment, then nodded and opened his blanket burrito. Kabru was about to climb in when he realized there was one important concern first; how the hell they were going to position themselves after.

Ideally, he’d like to get the captain lying down and see if he could sleep some more. That’d make tucking the ends of both blankets in more complicated, but they could do it. But it would also but a limit on the comfortable positions they could be in, if it was going to be a while to heat up.

He was probably overthinking it. After a moment’s thought, he pulled off his coat and tunic, and his own boots, leaving him in just his shirt and pants. It’d make it easier to share his heat with the captain. Then he wrapped the other blanket around his shoulders and sat on the edge of the cot.

“Your back to my chest should be the easiest, I think. If we lie down, maybe you can get some more sleep?”

Captain Mithrun gave him a very flat look at that, but since it was pretty much the same look he’d been given the first time he suggested a foot rub could help the captain sleep, Kabru ignored it. Being warm and comfortable was a pretty good soporific, especially when someone was already exhausted.

“You’re awake.”

That caught him off guard a little, although Captain Mithrun was already shuffling to lie down on the bedroll, keeping some of the blanket under him. Kabru fussed for a moment to get it under them both, trying to decide how to answer.

It wasn’t exactly a cogent argument. It was pretty much what that little kid he’d compared the captain to earlier would say. But… he wanted Captain Mithrun to feel respected, like his wants and needs were important enough for him to care about.

And. Maybe. Mithrun might be the only person who’d understand about the nightmares. Or at least the only person who wouldn’t judge him for having them.

Sliding carefully in behind the captain, Kabru waited until they were both mostly balanced on the cot while he tried to find the words.

“I… couldn’t sleep either, but probably for different reasons. I had a nightmare.”

There was a long moment, then the captain’s back relaxed and pressed against him. Pulling his own blanket over them both, Kabru wrapped an arm around him, enjoying the warmth of another person. He’d been sleeping alone for too long.

“About Utaya?” Mithrun asked softly, something tight and sad under the words. Kabru’s arm tightened reflexively around him at the words, holding him close.

Like the past might come and take this person away too.

He forced a short chuckle, shaking his head. Not being able to see the elf’s face helped. He didn’t have to worry about what he was thinking.

“No, actually… not exactly. I’m used to those. I used to have them a lot more, when I was younger. This one was just… about what we’re doing now.”

Mithrun made a noise that he could tell himself was inquisitive, although it was probably just an acknowledgement. Kabru pressed on anyway.

“I dreamed about eating the dragon meat. There was so much of it, and I couldn’t say no, but the more I ate the more scales kept coming up through my skin, and I scratched them off but then I had to eat those too, until my nails were claws and my teeth were too sharp and… and then…” the words had been easy until that point, spilling faster and faster but suddenly they were choking him.

One cool hand came and pressed over his, where he was holding the captain… probably way too tightly, it was probably uncomfortable, and he forced his grip to loosen but Mithrun’s hand held his in place.

“And then?” The elf asked softly, his voice still calm and even. Not judging. Not disgusted, or annoyed. Not pitying or condescending.

Kabru buried his face in the top of Mithrun’s head and breathed for a long moment, forcing himself to calm down. To let his heart stop racing.

“And then it wasn’t dragon meat I was eating,” he whispered against the soft waves of dulled silver.

He’d have wondered if the captain heard him at all, except that the elf’s hand tightened over his for a moment. Then it peeled his hand away, pulling it up and out of the blankets where Mithrun could examine it with both of his.

Kabru had never really noticed how much smaller Mithrun’s hands were than his before. Most of his acquaintance with the captain had involved being very hands on, grabbing the captain or carrying him when he’d fallen or passed out. Captain Mithrun was a pretty small guy, though he was solidly built for an elf and heavier than he looked.

His hands were rough too, hardened and battle scarred, and not the most delicate where they turned Kabru’s hand this way and that, pressing at the ends of his fingers and sketching the knuckles.

They were so much smaller. He could probably hold both of the captain’s wrists in one hand, or cup his hands together and fully contain both of Mithrun’s inside. The contrast of pale skin against his brown made the difference all the more stark, and he found himself watching with equal attention as Mithrun examined his hand.

Then the captain pulled it back under the blankets and placed it against his chest again.

“No scales or claws.” It was so incongruous that Kabru blinked, taking hold of the elf automatically.

“What… Captain, I know it was just a dream. I didn’t think I was actually going to…” he trailed off, trying not to sound too annoyed. Maybe it had been a mistake to mention it.

Captain Mithrun shook his head, pressing his hand to the back of Kabru’s.

“You don’t dream, under sleeping potions. Or sleeping spells when they’re done right. You’re not supposed to. But… I do. Sometimes. And the dreams don’t go away just because I wake up.” His fingers traced the backs of Kabru’s slowly, then pressed more firmly again.

Kabru’s mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to process the weight of that revelation. He’d known that sleeping potions and spells didn’t usually let people dream, it was one of the reasons you weren’t supposed to use them all the time to sleep, but…

Could it be something the demon had done? Left Mithrun with unusually strong or vivid dreams, too powerful to be blocked by the magic?

And his first thought had been to comfort Kabru. Not by telling him that it was just a dream, or hadn’t been real, or any of the patronizing crap he already knew.

He’d taken the fear seriously, had physically checked, and made sure there really was nothing there even when they both knew there couldn’t be.

What the hell did the captain dream about?

For some reason Kabru couldn’t bring himself to ask, the words trapped under a sudden lump in his throat. He wrapped his arms tighter around the elf, held him close and was sure Mithrun made a soft, almost pleased sound in response.

“I… understand. Thank you, captain.”

Mithrun made another quiet, contented noise, leaning further back into Kabru. He felt warmer already, the places where they touched much warmer than the rest even under the blankets.

Kabru had left his bed looking for a distraction, because the thought of trying to sleep again with that in his head was too much to bear. The thought of trying again now still wasn’t exactly appealing, but he couldn’t deny it felt… easier. Better.

Less terrifying. Less like he might actually throw up. The gentle warmth of the captain in his arms, the heartbeat he could feel against his hand and his chest, were grounding. Soothing.

He could only hope it was working as well for Captain Mithrun as the silence stretched between them, comfortable and familiar. It was a little surprising to realize that he actually felt safe, even in a tent in the middle of the woods.

Of course, knowing that every monster had fled as far and as fast as it could days ago helped. Cuddling up to the undisputed scariest person on the Island helped more.

It was interesting, actually; the dichotomy Mithrun represented. In an actual fight, Kabru was completely sure he’d never seen anyone more blatantly terrifying; there was just no defence against wayward teleportation. If Mithrun decided to swap a rock for your brain, the only thing that could stop him was his own lack of depth perception.

His casting was quick, precise, and almost instantaneous; if he had a loose object to send, the only question was if he would miss. It was hard to imagine anything being able to beat him, even after watching him go toe to toe with the demon twice and fail… actually, maybe moreso. The demon was basically magic incarnate, infinite power given form, and if violence was capable of killing it Kabru was pretty sure Mithrun would have succeeded.

He’d diced it finer than the dragon and even running on empty would have killed Marcille at full dungeon lord power if not for the demon protecting her. He was the epitome of an unstoppable force.

An unstoppable force who’d give himself frostbite because it didn’t occur to him to put on boots before standing on a block of ice. Who’d starve to death from sheer ignorance of his own body in a week. Who had no choice but to rely on others for every single one of his needs, all day, every day, because he couldn’t feel them.

Captain Mithrun really was the perfect weapon; completely impotent without someone else to wield him.

And Kabru had to believe he could find the human being under all of that, the determination and reckless power, and apathy and emptiness. The man he saw in those flickers of emotion that took over the captain’s face at the first stirring in his heart; usually irritation, stubbornness, or anger, but there were others too.

Smugness was probably the first thing Kabru had ever seen break the intensity/apathy combo that Mithrun usually wore; handing a room full of mercenaries their asses as easily as if he was herding children. There were other moments too though.

More since the dungeons fell, which was understandable; they had more to feel good about. Kabru had never expected to see Captain Mithrun cry, or really to see him laugh either, but he’d seen both almost at once.

There were the softer smiles too, and those were what Kabru held onto when the captain was being extra difficult. Usually uncertain, usually small, every single one held the promise that actual, genuine happiness was something that Mithrun could feel again. That he could still find joy in life.

(If pressed, Kabru would admit that he had some less than selfless reasons for clinging to those moments, and pushing so hard for Mithrun to recover. If someone as obviously, tangibly broken as the captain could still find worth and purpose in his life… well, obviously Kabru could too. How could he not?

Captain Mithrun couldn’t fix himself breakfast with a knife to his throat. Kabru couldn’t make a good breakfast necessarily, but he could get by.)

It wasn’t until his musings were interrupted by a soft, familiar snore that Kabru realized Mithrun had fallen asleep again, even without a foot rub to relax him. He wondered belatedly if he should have asked more questions about why the captain had woken; had it just been a shoddy sleeping spell? Nightmares of his own?

Hell, had Cithis not bothered to toss a blanket over him? The tent wasn’t cold exactly, especially not compared to the night, but with nothing but his uniform between him and the air, the captain didn’t exactly run warm.

He’d have to ask later. In the morning, once the sun had fully risen and it was actually a decent time to get up.

Actually, he’d probably have to tell the captain’s squad to bugger off and leave them alone for a few more hours, once they got up. The Canaries rose early, so it’d probably only be a couple more hours at most until they came looking.

As much as he’d like to get the captain’s feet looked at, he’d rather the elf get some more sleep first. It wasn’t like he had the mana for a full day of continuous teleport-cutting, so getting a lie in would probably do more for him than rising early. And it wasn’t like Kabru had anywhere else to be; ideally, he’d like Captain Mithrun to sleep until he woke on his own.

Hopefully they’d come in before calling out, and he could tell them to leave the captain alone for a while.

Which. Would mean they’d find them both on the cot together.

A perverse part of Kabru kind of wished he’d taken his pants off; they’d wanted to tease him when Cithis had the captain in her bed, it would only be fitting to repay them in kind. Of course, it wouldn’t actually fluster the fucking elves.

Actually, it’d probably make Fleki cackle and definitely wake the captain, and even if the others wouldn’t be so loud, they’d certainly have commentary for him later. So it was probably for the best that he hadn’t.

Still, it wasn’t like he could miss them opening the tent. Despite being a chronic overthinker, it wasn’t like there was much to distract him just lying in bed with the captain in his arms.

It was just… peaceful. Warm, comfortable, and the rise and fall of another’s breathing to soothe him. Kabru found himself drifting in a haze of contentment, and hurriedly shook himself awake again.

But then again, why bother?

He’d barely gotten more than a couple of hours of sleep himself all told, and while he’d insisted they lie down for the captain to sleep (which had worked), being warm and tucked up in bed was working on him too.

It wouldn’t be hard. And if he did have nightmares again… well, he’d found out years ago (by Rin throwing things at him) that he was a grabber and a cuddler, especially when he had nightmares. And he already had Captain Mithrun held close; if either of them moved away they’d probably fall right off the cot.

If nothing else, he’d have someone with him. Be able to reassure himself, have someone to hold until he could breathe again. He’d hate to wake the captain up though.

Of course, he might not have the nightmare again. It had felt inevitable before, made him want to vomit just staying in his bed below the inn, and he’d had to get out. Not anymore though.

Now it felt far away and far less frightening; pushed back by Mithrun’s absolutely wild reaction. It felt silly that he’d been that upset in the first place, with Mithrun quietly reassuring him that he definitely wasn’t actually becoming a dragon, but not in a bad way. It even pulled a smile to his face.

And, well, it was hard to imagine what could frighten him while he held the most dangerous person on the Island to his chest, snoring like a squirrel.

Pressing his face to Mithrun’s hair to hide from the encroaching dawn, Kabru pressed his eyes shut.

Just a couple of minutes. Maybe an hour.

None of the convicts would deliberately wake them up if they saw he was there too; it was a solid 50-50 that Lycion or Fleki would just sit their asses down and wait to watch them wake up and see what happened, but Otta and Cithis would probably just leave and decide how to try and make his life hell with it later.

Since Kabru was already planning on making their lives uncomfortable for leaving the captain unattended, he wasn’t worried about it.

So waking up about four hours later to find himself and Mithrun festooned from head to toe with daisy chains wasn’t exactly expected, but nor was it hugely surprising.

**

The day itself was unremarkable; he spoke to Cithis early on, which went. As well as could be expected. She refused to see the problems even while casting a healing spell on the captain’s feet (mostly just to be safe; there didn’t seem to be any lasting damage).

Kabru was fully aware she was baiting him by suggesting he simply take over the night shift again himself if he didn’t trust anyone else to do it, but honestly? That had become his goal somewhere between falling asleep in Mithrun’s cot and chasing the captain and Cithis down.

He couldn’t force the Canaries to care about their captain. Or to realize that the easiest answer wasn’t always the best, though he hoped spending more time with Senshi might help there.

He could take matters into his own hands, and personally make sure the captain didn’t try anything like that again. Let Cithis think she was manipulating him.

Of course, having them both sleep squished up on one cot wasn’t a long term solution; there was a reason he’d brought a second. But through the course of the day, he also realized that he probably couldn’t trust the captain to wake him up if he was up early.

Kabru could put his cot in front of the entrance of the tent, and the captain could teleport out. And possibly get himself stuck in something. But Kabru already knew how to keep him from teleporting. Contact with a large enough surface.

Explaining it to the captain himself was a little more complicated; Captain Mithrun just stared at him blankly, standing to his full height inside the tent (which Kabru was a little jealous of; he had to hunch).

“You want to what?” He asked flatly. Kabru stifled a smile.

“To move your cot back and turn it, so I can set up the other one at a right angle to it. That way once you’ve gone to sleep, I can sleep with my head on your chest, so that if you wake up it’ll wake me too and I can help you.” It was an ingenious solution if Kabru said so himself; much less touchy feely than they’d had that morning, it’d give them both at least a semblance of personal space.

Sure, he’d still have to be invading Mithrun’s, but he had to anyway to keep him from teleporting away. But at an angle like that, he wouldn’t be able to grab or pull the elf into another hug in his sleep, even if he did have another nightmare.

Just his head had to be less annoying for the captain to deal with, right?

And Captain Mithrun clearly agreed, since he just stared at Kabru for a while and then helped him move the beds into position! Okay, he didn’t actually say anything to agree or disagree, but he actively helped set things up, which was the same thing.

It even felt comfortingly routine for Kabru to sit at the end of the cot and give the captain his foot rub, feeling him relax gradually under his hands. He’d been a little worried that sleeping in that morning might have thrown the captain’s schedule off, but it clearly hadn’t; he fell asleep as quickly and easily as usual.

Getting to then move to the other cot, even if he did shift himself up so that his head rested on Mithrun’s chest instead of his pillow, was less routine. Part of him still wanted to sit watch, but there was no point.

There were no monsters nearby, and no one on the Island likely to try and start trouble with the Canaries. Even if there was, Kabru was a pretty light sleeper. There was no way Mithrun would be able to slip away from him either. If he moved, Kabru would wake up, and could help him either get back to sleep or deal with whatever issue had arisen.

If nothing else, Kabru was sure he’d help the captain get a better night’s sleep.

**

Mithrun wasn’t exactly sure what woke him, which was pretty much his normal. Most of the time it was likely as simple as the sleeping spell running out, or potion wearing off, even if it was early. But he never could tell.

It took a moment for him to remember that he’d not had either that night, which was a new puzzle. It was still dark, and while his sense of time wasn’t the best, it didn’t seem like it had been long since he fell asleep.

Kabru was lying with his head on Mithrun’s chest, still deeply asleep, which was. Possibly related. It made it a little harder to breathe, and Mithrun took a few deep test breaths. Didn’t seem to be a major problem though.

He lay in the dark for a while, watching the outline of Kabru’s head in the monochrome world of twilight. He understood the purpose, of course; that Kabru would be awakened if he moved, so he couldn’t wander off alone again.

Tedious. Potentially effective, although he was plainly awake now and Kabru wasn’t.

Although. It wasn’t like he wanted to move. Or had anywhere else to be. Did he?

It’d be a pain to dislodge Kabru. So maybe it was effective in keeping him in bed at least.

Slowly, unbidden, a hand rose as if to rub at the spot on his chest that was usually the most hollow, but occasionally sparked a glow of warmth, or sorrow. It was warm now, in a soft, gentle way, but Kabru’s head was directly over it.

As if the tallman knew that was where the best path to Mithrun’s desires lay.

(Well. He assumed it was the best path. It was where all the feelings he didn’t understand lay? And he wasn’t sure he remembered enough of desire to understand it.)

His fingers stroked through messy dark curls instead, which was an interesting sensation. Kabru’s hair was soft and thick. Pretty and boyish, the curls combining with wide blue eyes and a charming smile that made him look almost elven.

With his head turned away like this, Mithrun could almost imagine that one ear was just folded down against his chest, the other… wait. That might be a memory. The way a slender brown ear would rise out of dark curls and twitch.

There had been a lot of changeling mushrooms in the dungeon, and while even the changes to his own physique didn’t really register with him, his imagination also wasn’t usually up to even the hazy impression of an elf ear.

He almost wondered what an actual elf-Kabru had looked like. Probably still taller than him. Mithrun wasn’t the shortest elf around, but he was definitely shorter than average. Although, he didn’t know where Kabru stood on a tallman average either.

Elf-Kabru wouldn’t be able to haul him around as much. Expecting to feel petty satisfaction, Mithrun was surprised by the disappointment accompanying that thought.

The manhandling was annoying, or at least not being able to do what he wanted was annoying. The actual grabbing was… fine. Better than the weight of Kabru’s head on his chest, although that wasn’t actually all that bad.

He was still touching Kabru’s hair. That was… he hadn’t been thinking about it. But it was soft, and felt nice between his fingers.

Kabru would probably wake up if he kept doing it. But he was supposed to wake up and put Mithrun back to sleep.

He wasn’t awake.

The string of facts trotted through Mithrun’s head with the usual lack of any interest or any will to do anything about them. Including stopping his fingers from twisting slowly through Kabru’s curls.

He could wake Kabru and get more sleep. Unless Kabru’s head on his chest was what had woken him, which would just happen again. That’d be annoying.

Any kind of decision would have to involve him wanting something, or finding one option preferable. He kept playing with Kabru’s hair. Deciding to stop would also involve caring what happened next.

Kabru would probably be able to help him choose, but Kabru would make the decision he wanted anyway. He could make Mithrun agree with him though, which was nice. Cithis never bothered waiting for him to agree.

The difference hadn’t seemed important, since he didn’t usually disagree either, but… there was something there. A thought he couldn’t quite finish the shape of.

It tugged back to something that had happened that day, a conversation he’d almost been part of.

Why was Kabru so good with him?

A frown creasing his brows, Mithrun stared down at Kabru like his sleeping head might hold the answer, hand stilling.

He wasn’t sure. Everyone else agreed that Kabru was very good at handling him, but it was harder for him to tell.

He liked Kabru, as much as he liked anyone. More than most people, really. He wasn’t as grating, or as scared and inclined to kiss his ass. For all that he wouldn’t stop talking, Kabru was restful company.

Who absolutely wouldn’t help Mithrun work this out, because he was also very distracting. That was the talking, but also sometimes the things he did. That was part of the restful; Mithrun didn’t have to do anything or think about anything, because Kabru would entertain him.

Not necessarily on purpose, but that was fine. Mithrun was entertained, and Kabru preferred when Mithrun wasn’t doing anything else, so it worked out.

That was probably uncharitable. There were plenty of things Kabru wanted Mithrun to do. They just weren’t usually things that interested him.

Watching Kabru was usually interesting, if only because after a while he got flustered about it.

His fingers had started stroking through Kabru’s hair again. He hadn’t decided to. It was just… pleasant. A soothing sensation as soft curls swirled around at his touch, flowing like water. It made him feel more real.

He wasn’t going to find any answers here.

He couldn’t wake Kabru, or Kabru would try and put him back to sleep. Kabru had been very sure he’d wake if Mithrun moved, but he hadn’t yet.

Just his head probably wasn’t enough contact that Mithrun couldn’t teleport without bringing him.

There were probably any number of sensible options, but Mithrun didn’t bother thinking past the first one. Tugging the blanket free, he wadded it into a bundle about the same size as his own chest and held it up above him. Right above Kabru’s head, as far as he could tell.

Switching their positions was easy, although he did almost fall directly into Kabru’s head because he hadn’t bothered raising his knees first. Still, he caught himself, sitting back on his heels to see if Kabru would wake up.

The blanket was tucked under his head as neatly as Mithrun’s chest had been, and though his face scrunched a little he didn’t seem about to wake up. Nodding in satisfaction, Mithrun turned to leave the tent.

Stopped. It had been important that morning.

Sitting carefully by the tent entrance, he pulled his socks and boots on before wandering out into the night. It was entirely possible that there wouldn’t be any answers out there either. Probable, really. It might not even be a puzzle he could solve.

But Kabru had been so very sure he could keep Mithrun contained, and as much as Mithrun did like him, he wasn’t a fucking pillow. And he was self aware enough to recognize the pettiness in the slight smile as he wandered off.

Maybe he could find that friend of Kabru’s who’d been around during the day.

———————

It is so important to me that you know there was about a solid chance of Mithrun intentionally teleporting himself into the ground outside so Kabru’s head was held up by dirt and then had to dig himself out

I resisted, obviously. But it was hard

(Also Mithrun hid his head under the blankets on the off chance Kabru didn’t have object permanence and would forget he was there if he couldn’t see him because listen he doesn’t know how tallmen work)

[remy2fang]

A.K.I. Birthday Commentator Audio in SF6, a Rant, some Copium, and perhaps Additional F.A.N.G Content in Future DLC. LONG Post!!

A.K.I. Birthday Commentator Audio

From the sounds of it, I don’t think a lot of English speaking players use the commentator audio in SF6. If they did, they would’ve posted about the special commentary about A.K.I.’s birthday on Twitter. Even EventHubs didn’t mention about the special commentary:

For sure, Japanese players uses it:

This is the English commentator audio, extracted by me:

Truth be told, I actually heard the English commentary version more than a month prior to A.K.I.’s birthday, so back in early October then. I extracted and search through audio files within the AKI patch. The time when I found it, I honestly thought that it’s already available in-game if you switch the commentary audio on, but that’s really not the case. This particular line can only be heard on A.K.I.’s birthday. Another thought that came to mind when I first listened to this audio was, “WHEN is AKI’s birthday?” A month later we all found out that it’s 11/11.

-RANT TIME-

Everything about that special birthday audio for AKI sounded nice and lovely until the part with “…she MAY end up killing him (FANG) herself.” I know it’s been foreshadowed in AKI’s World Tour dialogue and how FANG had to kill his closest Nguuhao brothers for his first assassin job in the Toxicity story, but damn, it’s a reminder that AKI’s happiness (and mine too 😭😭) MAY eventually have a grim ending. After listening to that audio, it prompted me to write these posts a long while ago:

I much prefer the Japanese commentator audio because it said that “AKI almost poisons FANG” rather than “she MAY end up killing him herself” like in the English one. It’s far less doom and gloom in the Japanese version. Plus, FANG is already immune to poison lol.

Honestly, I’m happy that “almost” no one heard the English commentator audio on AKI’s birthday and Eventhubs never even mentioned it. I can imagine the barrage of dumb comments from F.A.N.G haters wanting him dead. Come on, give A.K.I. a break on her birthday. Telling her to kill F.A.N.G, the most important person in her life, would make her truly upset.

-END RANT-

Now the Copium

Shortly after finding that audio, I kinda formed a headcanon-pseudo fanfic to make myself feel better. I don’t normally make these kinds of things because I generally just stick to canon…but also I lack creativity when it comes to story telling. Anyway, this was what I wrote:

“I hope FANG stays a coward. The day when AKI and FANG must face each other and FANG finds out that AKI finally surpasses him, he’ll plead for his life in front of AKI. AKI will say that she’d never want to kill him anyway and they could live happily together. FANG says he’ll do whatever AKI wishes. AKI says there’s no need and they should live as equals…but she has one request. The scene changes where AKI is in a Victorian style cafe and FANG is the sophisticated stylish butler with a monocle serving AKI tea and desserts. AKI claps in excitement like a little girl.”

And of course, I had to draw this idea because I thought it would be cute. A lot of people have seen it already on AKI’s birthday:

This was the result of making my little made-up scenario. The best thing about it was Street Fighter Official retweeted this art. It’s like they’re validating it or something lol. It’s kinda ironic really. Me hearing that birthday audio more than a month prior, and then me drawing my fantasy picture for AKI’s birthday and Street Fighter Official retweeting it. It feels like poetic justice. I know this is reaching here, but I think the social media staff saw it as AKI’s longing to have a truly happy moment with FANG. Perhaps to the staff that this image, my very own coping fantasy, closely aligns with what AKI truly wanted. It’s like I am A.K.I. or A.K.I. is me. Lol. There were better, more popular art that came out on her birthday, but they often leave out on what’s most dear to AKI. Though there were also a few birthday artworks where FANG is included…I don’t know why they weren’t retweeted and mine was. I don’t know. I’m just making conjectures on why my piece was chosen when there were much better ones that came out on AKI’s birthday.

Additional F.A.N.G Content in Future DLC

Anyway, speaking of how important F.A.N.G is, I think we’re going to see more of him in World Tour Mode when Ed DLC drops. Yes, it’s pretty obvious that he’s going to turn up later because of AKI’s arcade ending and FANG’s WT cutscene that has JP and Ed in it. But those aren’t the only reasons why FANG will come back. The same time I found out about the AKI commentator audio was also the time when I uncovered additional FANG audio. He only said a few lines in WT, but there are more lines that were not used in the game as of 11/15/2023. I extracted them all, both in English and Japanese.

ENGLISH

JAPANESE

I uploaded these audio clips on October 11, exactly one month before A.K.I.’s birthday. Go figure.

From the sounds of it, he has more varied reactions, some more missions for you to complete, and mentions M. Bison’s name twice in unknown contexts. I believe these voice lines will be utilized in later dlc, if not in the upcoming Ed release. I found the AKI birthday commentary audio long before her birthday was even announced, so I’m betting that we’ll hear these unused FANG voice lines in the future. Unfortunately I couldn’t find any battle voice lines for FANG, but perhaps in a future dlc he might be a fightable NPC?

If you’ve finished reading this, thanks for bearing with me lol.

[tjemegames]

HSR: e0s1 Boothill Warps

Disclaimer: I am no longer e0s1; I’m now on my e2s1 cowboy shenanigans 🤠 Details under the cut!

Another pulling session has come and gone. What kind of assimilated southerner would I be if I didn't pull for the one and only interstellar cowboy?

42 days worth of saving and 130 warps later he has joined my roster. Welcome aboard, Boothill! Glad to finally have you.

An overview of what I got today:

4 x Pela (already e6)

1 x Under the Blue Sky (s7)

1 x Hook (e6)

1 x Concert for Two (s2)

1 x The Birth of Self (s6)

1 x Boothill (new, 79 pity)

6 x A Secret Vow (s9)

1 x In the Name of the World (s2, 16 pity)

2 x Arlan (e5)

2 x Geniuses' Repose (s3)

1 x Landau's Choice (s3)

1 x Sailing Towards a Second Life (new, 67 pity)

Total = nineteen 4*s & three 5*s

I was a bit nervous when I started this session, ngl. Aventurine's pulls went too well for my usual brand of luck so I was worried that I might end up going through a majority of my warp/jade savings this time around. Thankfully, Boothill was merciful and I still have 135 warps leftover to put toward Jade next patch.

Well, fork me! Make that e1s1 Boothill!

This was not in the original plans but, after a short deliberation, I said, “fuck it we ball!” Lo and behold, Boothill came back through. I might go for e2 during one of his reruns sometime in the future. We’ll just have to see how everything pans out.

Here’s what another 80 warps got me:

3 x Luka (e4)

1 x Trend of the Universal Market (s5)

1 x Hook (already e6)

1 x Under the Blue Sky (s8)

1 x Pela (already e6)

1 x Planetary Rendezvous (s4)

1 x Boothill (e1, 78 pity)

1 x Concert for Two (s3)

Total = nine 4*s & one 5*

Honestly, losing 50/50 wouldn't have been bad either because it would've only guaranteed my Jade next patch. Happy nonetheless, and l've still got 70 tickets left in my funds. Now I'm really going back to saving.

I am now part of the e2s1 Cowboy Nation!

How many cowboy eidolons is too many cowboy eidolons?? (I’m asking for myself because literally what am I doing?) Did I need them? No. But this is where I’m at now.

What can I say, really? The Big Depression hit me hard and my usually well-restrained gambling demons took over for a short while. I was sure that I would lose my 50/50 this time but that was not the case. The gacha was on my side yet again (can it sense my southerness?) by yielding yet another copy of my dearest gunslinger. Happy as hell to have him so I shan’t complain about getting lucky. Pray for future me because they’ll surely be going through it on the next desired character banner.

Here’s what my final 80 warps got me:

6 x Hook (already e6)

1 x Yukong (e6)

1 x Only Silence Remains (s2)

1 x Pela (already e6)

1 x Under the Blue Sky (s9)

1 x Boothill (e2, 75 pity)

1 x Luka (e5)

Total = eleven 4*s & one 5*

That’s all from me. I’m officially (for real, for real this time) done pulling for this cyborg for the rest of eternity. 290 total warps to secure e2s1. It was not in my original plans, but I resonate with him so I went for it. Not too shabby overall.

Good luck all Boothill wanters -- may the gacha gods be with you!

[ri-ahhh]

hi can you write about spending a valentine’s day with gray pls?

valentine’s day smut w/ gray? + more haha sorry couldn’t put them all in

A/N: I’m sorry this is a day late. It was supposed to be 90% smut but somehow it took on a mind of its own and turned into this monster.

warnings: smut, extremely cheesy, way too long

***

It should be a given understanding that Valentine’s Day is the dumbest, most antiquated, overrated holiday that’s ever existed. That had always been your take on it, even as a little kid — the worry of spelling your classmates’ names correctly on cards imprinted with cheesy Scooby Doo and Spongebob puns; the expectation to dress up nice in the hopes you would get asked to be someone’s Valentine in the hallways of middle school; the potential embarrassment of being the only person in class who didn’t get bought one of those stupid roses from a ‘secret admirer’ in high school.

There’s simply too much pressure surrounding the idea of professing your love or even your mere fondness for anyone and everyone in your life. The fear of rejection if you do, and the judgement if you don’t. It had always made you anxious, whether you had someone to share the day with or not.

But this Valentine’s Day, as a young twenty-something, you were actually (secretly) looking forward to it. Conner was your first adult relationship, with the title of ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ and labels and commitment. He’s cute and smart and charming and yours. So, sue you if you were quietly anticipating wearing that SavageXFenty set beneath a brand new dress while you went to dinner after being greeted at the door with roses and a box of chocolates.

And yet here you are, on February 14th, hood of your sweater drawn over your head as you rummage through your freezer with a clear target in your mind. Your eyes are blurry and swollen, but you find the pint of birthday cake Nada Moo with ease, and you slam the freezer door closed a little harder than you really mean to as soon as it’s in your grasp.

You’ve just popped the lid off when your phone buzzes on the kitchen counter where you’ve plopped down to eat your depression snack in a more acceptable place than your bed or the couch.

You see Grayson’s name accompanied by a goofy, up-close picture of him smiling filling the screen, and hesitate. He’s one of your best friends, and clearly done nothing wrong, but you’re not sure you’re capable of handling anyone of the male species right now after...everything.

At the end of the day, though, it’s Grayson. He knows heartbreak almost better than anyone, and you’ve coached him through it on more than one occasion. Maybe he can spew back some of your own advice if it comes to that.

You swipe the bar at the bottom of the screen, and your ceiling suddenly replaces the image of his silly, handsome face. “Sup?”

“Yo. Am I interrupting anything? Sorry, just remembered what day it is.”

You swallow. “Uh no, you’re not.”

“What’s wrong?”

You bite your lip hard, digging your spoon into the softened ice cream. Was it that obvious just from your voice that you had been upset? Or does he just know you that well?

“Nothing.”

“You sound like you’ve been crying.”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie. Let me see your face.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you concede. “No. I’ve been crying.”

He’s quiet, and you can’t bring yourself to look at his own face in the corner of the screen. You shove the chunk of ice cream past your lips, and after a moment he says with a softer tone, “Crying on Valentine’s Day is never a good sign.”

You’re glad that you’ve gotten so much of your tears out already, because you feel the inevitable prickle behind your eyes that would have been full-blown waterworks a few hours ago. You scoop another bite. “Conner cheated on me — has been, cheating on me. I found out last night.”

Grayson sighs your name, and something about the genuine sympathy in his voice makes you even more emotional. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. What a piece of shit.”

You shrug even though he can’t see, and sniffle past the lump in your throat. “It’s whatever. I’m still in shock more than anything. Hurts like hell, though, still. I let him have it when I saw the texts and he hasn’t tried to call me once. No texts. Nothing.”

He’s silent, but it’s that raging silence you know oh so well from him. It doesn’t happen often, but anyone who knows Grayson Dolan knows that when his volume comes down, he means business. A loud and obnoxious Grayson is a happy one, but a brooding and quiet one means serious business.

“Do you want me to go beat his ass? I’ll do it.”

A smile cracks your scowl before you know it, and you shake your head. “No thanks, Gray. As much as I’d love to see that happen, I like your face the way it is. And not on a mugshot.”

He chuckles a little, and you feel your chest lift some just hearing the familiar depth of it. “Well, do you at least want me to come over later? I totally get if you need to be alone, but I know from experience sometimes what helps the most is having good friends around.”

You’re a little surprised. “You don’t have a date?”

“Nope.”

“No one from the roster hitting you up?”

“I don’t have a roster,” he argues playfully, but you both know that’s a lie, if not at least a stretch of the truth. “And even if I did, you’re more important. Always.”

You sigh and take another bite. His words make your neck tingle and your toes wiggle, but you ignore it; your brain is full of confusion as it is. “That makes one man in my life who thinks so, I guess.”

You finally prop your phone up against the fruit basket sitting in the middle of your bar so he can see you. Grayson takes in your image, which admittedly must look kind of pathetic, and you watch his jaw clench and release in a way that you can’t deny is utterly sexy.

“Is an hour okay? Tell Vanessa to come, too.”

“Benito took her to Tulum for the weekend,” you say, referring to your best friend and her boyfriend. “She did threaten to get on a plane and come home early for me, though.”

Grayson grins crookedly, but his jaw is still tight. “Well, tell her you’re in good hands. See you in an hour?”

You give it one last quick consideration; you already feel this much better just talking to him on the phone. Nothing bad could come from him being in your apartment, and you trust him. “Yeah, that’s fine. But just so you know, I’m already at the stage of eating ice cream at 10:30 AM.”

“Did you forget you’re talking to the emotional ice cream eating champion? No judgement here.”

You finally let out a giggle, your spirits officially lifted. “I’ll see you soon.”

**

True to his word, Grayson arrives at your door about an hour later, his arms laden with milkshakes from Monty’s, a gift bag decorated all over with sparkly hearts, and a gorgeous bouquet of flowers.

You’re stunned. The only thing you’d managed to do in the time it took him to get here was take a quick shower in attempts to rid your face of some of the puffiness, throw on some shorts this time with a fresh hoodie, and toss the used tissues scattered around your place into the garbage.

Before you can say anything, he holds out the flowers. “They were out of roses. But I know you like pink.”

You reach out for them slowly, eyes wide, your fingers brushing his when you grasp the plastic wrapping. His cheeks are a similar color to the petals, and it makes both your heart and your lips smile.

“Peonies are my favorite,” you say truthfully. “And yes, especially pink ones. Thank you, Gray.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, sounding relieved.

As he crosses the threshold of your door, he leans down to kiss your cheek, and you can’t help but hum quietly and pull him in for a hug. “That gift better not be for me, either,” you mumble into his chest.

Grayson pulls back, his eyes sparkling, but keeps you close with an arm wrapped loosely around your shoulders. “Oh, this? No, this is for my other best friend I’m trying to cheer up on Valentine’s Day.”

You slap his arm playfully, and lead him into your kitchen, pulling out a vase from the cabinet beneath your sink for the flowers.

The bag has a few gifts in it: a new Comfy (“I remembered you ruined yours when that ketchup bottle exploded all over you the other day”); a huge bag of watermelon sour patch kids (“I know they’re your favorite. Also ice cream gives you brain freeze after the first pint or so, trust me”); and a heart shaped box of your favorite chocolates (“you can eat them or burn them, I wasn’t sure which you’d appreciate more but either is fine with me.”)

You appreciated all of it, more than he would ever understand. All you can do is fling yourself at him weakly, completely overwhelmed. “Fuck you, you’re gonna make me cry all over again.”

Grayson envelops you in those huge, muscular arms, cooing behind that laugh you love so much. “Is that a really backwards way of saying thank you?”

You grunt in affirmation, and with you still wrapped up in his arms, he starts waddling the two of you back the short distance into your living room.

“Here,” he says, coaxing you down into the blanket nest you had created on the couch. “You chill and find a movie. I’ll make popcorn.”

You do, and he does, and the next few hours are spent lounging about in your apartment. Having him here with you is doing wonders from keeping your mind from going down the paths you’d been spiraling towards ever since you saw the messages between Conner and no less than four other girls on Snapchat. You don’t believe in snooping, but finding the first one had been an accident when he received the snap while you had his phone, and your finger happened to press the icon at just the right moment. 

In your eyes, though, the image of one pair of tits that weren’t your own was enough justification to see what else you could find. 

“I hate to admit it, but I’m kind of relieved,” you told Grayson a while later, Shrek playing on the TV quietly. He’s sitting next to you, far enough apart for there to be couch space between the two of you, but close enough to share the oversized blanket thrown over your laps. “Obviously what he did is so fucking shitty and I’m not justifying it in any way, but I can be honest with myself now and realize I wasn’t in that relationship for the right reasons. There wasn’t anything there emotionally at the end of the day.”

“You still have every right to feel hurt by what he did, though. It’s a huge violation of trust,” Grayson assures, reaching out and squeezing your hand gently.  

You squeeze back and grimace at him. “Yeah.” You let out a little mirthless laugh and shake your head, heat flooding your cheeks. “It’s so embarrassing, too. And finding out the day before Valentine’s, no less. Like, I just wanted to look cute, have a nice dinner, have some nice sex, and just... I don’t know. Have an actual Valentine’s day for once. No pressure or anxiety or anything.”

Grayson stares at you in that way he does — so intense and almost intimidating if there wasn’t a genuine warmth behind it. You’re suddenly aware of his thumb brushing the back of your hand slowly. He squeezes your fingers again. 

“So, let’s do it, then. You and me.”

You arch a brow at him, smiling at the rosiness in his cheeks when he realizes what he might have implied. “The dinner part, I mean. And the dressing up. Even though I think you look plenty cute right now.”

You roll your eyes, but for the countless time that day, your heart flutters happily. Looking back, you can’t remember the last time Conner had complimented your appearance, let alone after hours of crying and lazing around in sweats, sugar crystals stuck to the corner of your lip. 

“That would be great, except there’s no way we’re getting into any restaurant at this point,” you remind him. “Probably no delivery, either.”

“I’ll cook for you,” he counters, throwing the blanket off his legs and standing up with a groan. He stops to stretch, and the way his arms go over his head makes his shirt ride up at the bottom, exposing a chunk of hard muscles and golden skin. 

You swallow, eyes trailing up the rest of his torso appreciatively. “I don’t have much.”

He’s already rummaging through your pantry, though, and pulls out a half-full box of pasta, a jar of marinara sauce, and a leftover chunk of sourdough bread. “You got salad stuff?”

You nod, and he opens the fridge to find some lettuce, peppers, and other salad fixings before setting them with the pasta ingredients on the counter. “Go get dressed, look as cute or not cute as you want. I’ll take care of this.”

He’s absolutely unreal. “Gray-”

Grayson holds up his hand. “Ah, no, I’m doing this. You deserve it. Also, I’m hungry. It’s a win-win.”

Your stomach growls as well, and that’s all the convincing you need. While he gets busy in the kitchen, you tidy up the living area some before heading to your room. You feel a little silly, making your third outfit change of the day, but you also like the giddiness in the pit of your belly at the thought of Grayson doing all of this for you. You might as well take advantage of having someone like him in your life. Show him some Valentine’s appreciation of your own.

You forgo the slinky red number you had planned to wear to the restaurant with Conner, and opt instead for a rather unsuspecting blouse-jeans combo, which happen to both respectively frame your tits and ass perfectly.

The lacy, bright pink set in the back of your closet might have made it beneath your clothes, though. The prettiness of it made you feel that much better, even if no one else was going to see it.

Maybe.

Padding back into your kitchen after running a flat iron through your hair and throwing on some concealer, mascara, and lip gloss, you find Grayson draining the pasta into a colander in the sink. 

Grayson does a double-take when he sees you standing there admiring the flex of his bicep as he holds the pot. “Hey! You look amazing.”

“If you say so,” you joke, bumping his hip with yours as. You pass him to pull plates and bowls out of the cabinet.

“I do,” he insists quietly.

Arm outstretched mid-reach, you look over at him, locking eyes with his hazel ones. He looks a little surprised by the words that left his mouth, like he meant for them to stay inside his head. There must be some kind of challenge in your gaze, daring him to elaborate.

He busies himself with the pasta again hastily, his voice low. “Conner is a fucking idiot. To do that to you. To let you go. You don’t deserve that. Especially not today.”

Plates in hand, you rest them gently on the counter with your lower lip caught between your teeth, and peer over at this handsome man you’re so proud and lucky to call your best friend. He’s everything you thought Conner was — cute and smart and charming — but so much more — beautiful and good and kind.

And he’s been right here in front of you the whole time.

You reach out and touch his elbow softly. The hairs on his forearm are crisp but soft, and you follow them down to that gleaming watch on his wrist.

“You know,” you start quietly, fingers tracing the links of the band before flipping his hand over to trace the lines of his palm, “you keep talking about what I deserve today. But you deserve all that and more. You deserve someone’s love that matches your own.”

He watches your delicate fingers on his large, calloused palm, then trails his eyes up to yours when he feels their attention on his face. A piece of hair flops into his eyes, and you reach up without thinking or any hesitation to push it away again with a little smile playing on your glossy lips.

You look down and lay your palm flat against his, admiring the difference in size between your hands for a moment before interlocking your fingers with his.

“I love you.”

Your eyes flit up to his in surprise; he beat you to the words.

“In case that wasn’t obvious,” Grayson continues, turning towards you. “And I hope that’s not too much for you to handle, with everything you’ve had hap-”

“I love you too, Gray,” you interrupt, stepping that much closer to him so you’re nearly chest-to-chest with him.

“Yeah?” He sounds almost boyish in his astonishment, and it makes you want to hold him tight and never let go.

“Yeah,” you giggle. “A lot. I’m sorry it took me getting dumped to realize it.”

He shakes his head, his hand resting on your cheek gently. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod once before he’s swiftly ducking down to claim your lips with his. They’re soft and pliable, and you feel their effects from the nerves in your scalp all the way down to your bare toes.

“Grayson,” you breathe, lashes fluttering open as he pulls back just enough to look at you concernedly.

You smile, bigger and brighter than you have all day, and cup his stubbled cheeks with your hands, scratching your nails gently against his jaw. “I just wanted to say your name.”

Grayson grins now, too. He kisses you more insistently now that he’s got the taste of you on his tongue, which he flicks against the underside of your top lip as he breaks the kiss. “Say it again.”

“Make me,” you challenege, voice breathy and excited, eyes closed as you savor his sweet breath against your lips. “In my room.” You feel him tense up a bit, and you open your eyes to meet his questioning gaze, biting back a smile at the inevitable hope also shining there. “I’m sure.”

With that, Grayson hauls you up into his arms, and you wrap your legs around his waist with a squeal as he buries his face into your neck. He starts making the way to your bedroom, cooked food left long forgotten in the kitchen behind you.

“Are you wearing my signature scent?” he asks, inhaling your skin deeply.

“Mmhm,” you hum, threading your fingers through the back of his thick hair. It’s so long again, and you give the dark strands a sharp tug that makes him grunt. “Part one of my gift to you. Since you got so many for me today.”

“Part one, huh?” he says, crossing the threshold of your room. “What’s part two?”

“What I’m wearing underneath this,” you whisper in his ear, giggling loudly when he lies you down on the bed with more of a toss than he might have intended. “If you want it, that is.”

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind at the mere suggestion that he wouldn’t, and you take that as enough encouragement to tug at the bow tying your forest green silk wrap blouse together.

The folds part open and expose your chest, clad in that pink lace demi-cup bra with the cage detailing over the tops of your breasts. Grayson moans and dips down to nuzzle your cleavage, breathing in the scent of your warm skin. His hands trail up your sides, from your hips to your rib cage, until they settle in the dips of your waist. His touch ignites you, makes your back arch and your hips grind up against his thigh between your legs, just from the sensation of his hands on these new parts of your body.

“Grayson,” you sigh, and he smirks up at you with his chin on your tits when he realizes that’s all it took for you to say his name again.

You grab his cheeks and kiss that smugness away, shifting your legs so they’re wrapped around his waist once again, pushing down on the small of his back to get your centers to meet.

Both of you gasp into each other’s mouths when his erection rubs against your pussy, even through all the layers of clothing still on your bodies. You reach down blindly, still attacking his mouth with yours, and feel around for his belt.

His pants come off, followed by yours, and he sits you up enough to push your blouse off your shoulders rather gently considering the intensity of everything. Once the garment is tossed over his shoulder, you’re down to nothing but that pretty lingerie and he in his boxer briefs.

There’s a moment of pause and clarity for the two of you, staring into one another’s eyes as the reality hits of what you’re about to do. What it means to both of you. Grayson stares down at you, and places a hand over your rapidly thumping heart.

“Beautiful,” he says quietly, dragging his hand up your chest, over your throat, until he’s cupping you’re cheek and stroking your lip with his thumb.

You smile in return, then part your lips with your eyes locked on his, encouraging him silently to slip that digit in your mouth.

Grayson’s eyes darken, and he offers you his pointer finger instead, swallowing hard when you suck and swirl your soft, wet tongue around it.

Suddenly, he’s rolling the two of you over, switching positions so he’s on his back and you straddle him. You smile happily, taking your turn to duck down and attach your lips to the pulse point his neck, grinding down on his cock with a slow, steady rhythm.

“You’re so amazing, Gray,” you tell him, nipping at the lobe of his ear before kissing the underside of his chin. “Can’t believe you’re all mine now.”

“Can’t believe you’re mine,” he growls back, cursing when you trail your kisses down the center of his body, giving each one of those moon’s their own special attention before continuing down.

When you get to the waistband of his underwear, you trail your tongue on the edge of the elastic and watch his abs contract with each shaky breath he takes. One little move of your hands, and you’ll finally get to see what he’s really packing.

But before you can even hook your fingers there to pull down, he’s tugging on your hair. “Fuck, fuck, c’mere. Please.”

You pout, but follow his lead, licking back up his muscular torso until he’s able to drag you to him for a deep, wet kiss.

“Sit on my face,” he demands, shuffling down on the pillow to make more room for you.

That takes you off guard. “But—”

“Do it. Please. I fucking have to taste you.”

Your body must be working ahead of your brain, because before you know it, you’re straddling Grayson’s face, his tongue is sweeping through the wetness in your slit, and his dark eyes are peering up at you from between your thighs.

“Oh... oh!” you cry out when his tongue starts flicking against your clit. He goes back to swiping up all your arousal, then suctions his lips around your clit. He’s using one hand to hold the lace of your thong aside, and the other dips first one finger, then two inside of you. “Oh, fuck, that’s so good...”

Grayson moans, the vibrations erupting around your clit and sending you right to the edge already. You reach back and palm his cock, rock hard in his underwear still, and squeeze as he makes you cum all over his mouth.

He gets his fill of your cum as he groans and keeps up the motion of his fingers, the pressure of his lips, the softness of his tongue as your pussy pulses with each contraction of your orgasm. You wait for him to start letting up, but something about the way he’s working you just makes those waves stay steady rather than die down again. Maybe that’s his intention, because when you drop your head down to look at him with your mouth wet and agape, there’s a sparkling mischief in his eyes has he eats you out like his last meal.

Your hips grind against his face of their own accord, and you delve one hand in his hair while the other supports you on the headboard. You gasp out a quivering, breathless laugh as it all becomes just too much, and you try to lift off his mouth.

Grayson isn’t having it, though. He wraps his arms around your thighs and holds you down, reveling in the moans and whimpers and squeals as he makes you cum again.

“Oh my god — enough, enough, I can’t...” you whine, shoving on his forehead until he releases you and drops his head to the pillow. You could already see it by the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, but he’s smirking wide, chest heaving as you slink your way down his body.

You collapse next to him in a daze, and he rolls on top of you smoothly, peppering little kisses to your cheeks, your jaw, your nose. When you’re back in your right mind, you nudge blindly at his face so his lips find yours. He tastes like your pussy, and you sigh happily as you lift your heavy arms to wrap around his neck while his scoop beneath you, holding you close.

You continue to indulge in each other for a while, in the kisses you hadn’t been allowed to share until now. There’s something exciting about his familiarity and yet also this strange newness that has you absolutely desperate for him in every way.

“This is crazy,” you say when you pull back for air, studying his face hovering right above yours. You push back that stubborn chunk of hair that keeps falling into his eyes with a soft smile. “How did we end up here?”

Grayson turns his head to press his lips to your palm. “I don’t know. Is it too much? Should we stop?”

You shake your head vehemently, and he grins. “No, please. I think I just have to grasp that you’re really... mine now.”

He chuckles. “How do you think I felt watching you with that loser for five months?”

The mention of Conner makes you feel nothing — nothing other than gratitude for Grayson, that is. You slide your hands down his back, over his ribs, across his abs until your hand cups his dick.

His hips thrust into your touch, and you grin up at him demurely as you finally delve your hand past his waistband until you’ve got his length completely in your grasp.

He’s hot and hard and thick, and you start stroking him just to gauge the reaction in his face. He doesn’t disappoint, his jaw gaping open slightly, his breaths picking up, a flush rising to the apples of his cheeks.

Without warning, he reaches down and grasps your wrist. You pout, but he asks hastily. “Are we gonna have sex?”

You smirk. “Hell yeah.”

Grayson grins and shakes his head. “Alright, then you gotta stop.”

“Already?” you tease, letting him sit back and hook his fingers in the tiny string of your thong at your hips.

He gives you a look as he pulls the scrap of lace down your legs, then stands to push down his own underwear. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, and you wish he’d let you blow him some before you hit the main event, but he says, “I’ve wanted you for too long to take any chances about screwing up the first time.”

You melt a little, reaching for him as he climbs back on the bed. “There should be some condoms in the drawer there. Just to be safe after... you know.”

He nods and dips down to kiss you before leaning over to riffle through the top drawer of your nightstand. He comes back with a purple square, which you take from him.

“Gotta practice an activity safely,” you wink, tearing open the condom and rolling it down his shaft quickly.

“Shut up.” Grayson rolls his eyes, but smiles softly as he settles between your legs just right. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you whisper, gasping as he starts to sink inside you.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers as your walls suck him in and grip him tight.

He goes slow for a couple of minutes, allowing both of you time to adjust to each other. He stretches you out so much better than anyone you’ve ever been with, and you can’t help but clench around him when you see those tattoos and smell his cologne and hear his voice — all things that remind you that this is Grayson fucking you.

He growls the first time you do it, then sits up hastily, pulling his face out of your neck when you do it again. He tucks his knees beneath him, sits on his heels, and hauls your hips into his lap as the speed of his thrusts picks up incrementally. Until he’s fucking you for real, and your tits bounce in your bra with every upstroke.

You shove an arm beneath your pillow, enunciating the curves of your body, and watch his expressions as he fights to hold back. His hair is disheveled, lip caught tight between his teeth and muffling his deep, satisfied sounds that mingle with your open higher-pitched ones. He catches your eye and his hands on your hips grip you so tight for a moment that you’re sure little bruises will be there in the morning — not that you mind.

“Fuck,” he whispers harshly before slowing his hips and shifting down to give you a deep, sloppy kiss. “Turn over.”

You moan into his mouth, then follow his order, rolling onto your front as soon as he pulls out. You expect him to haul your hips up into the air, but he moves your hair off your neck and trails sweet kisses from shoulder to shoulder, his hand sweeping down the subtle curve of your back until he’s gripping your ass.

Grayson’s hand moves down your thigh and pushes it up and out once he’s cupping the back of your knee. The angle encourages you to twist your upper half until you have sight of him once again in all his angled, sweaty, muscular glory.

“Fuck me, baby,” you beg him, already anticipating the fullness inside you again. Needing it.

“Want me to fuck you?” he asks needlessly, pushing into your pussy once again. You moan loudly, either in confirmation or from pure pleasure, it doesn’t matter. The angle is tighter, the tip of his dick hitting a spot so perfectly accurate inside of you that you can’t concentrate on anything other than how good he’s making you feel. “Yeah. So fucking sexy. So beautiful...”

“Gray.. oh fuck yes, right there,” you whimper, catching onto his arm as he leans over you and gives you those hard, steady strokes.

“Open your eyes, baby, lemme see them when you cum,” he growls out.

You open them as much as you can, your vision blurry, but you can still make out those handsome features soaking in the pleasure on your face. Watching and waiting for you to get yours so he can get his.

As soon as you’re clenching like a vice around him, Grayson is letting go into the condom. You can vaguely feel the throb of him as he cums in spurts, the sound of his masculine, drawn-out groans making you shiver and tense up even more on his dick. If it’s possible for anyone to sound as sexy as they look, Grayson achieves that in spades.

He collapses on the bed next to you, and you have just enough strength to roll over until he’s got you gathered in his arms. You nuzzle into his chest and try to process everything. You had been hoping for nice sex today, and instead you got the best sex of your life.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence while you both catch your breath, after he pulls and ties off the condom, you smile into his cooling skin with a satisfied sigh.

“Thank you for making this the best Valentine’s Day of my life. Especially after it was starting to look like the worst.”

“You made this the best day of my life, period,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Gray.”

[hikarus-shida]

HOOK: Jealousy Headcanon

HOOK x getting jealous when his s/o fangirls! headcanon

genre: fluff

warnings: none

requested by: anonymous (I hope you enjoy!)

Masterlist

This headcanon request was actually so cute. I would’ve never thought of this concept!

Tag List: @cutierocker202

*I do not own this gif!*

You and Hook had been dating for a couple of months now. You had met each other when he first started at AEW, your relationship blossoming from there. He was a great boyfriend and made you super happy, always giving you a great time and support.

You really had eyes on no one else except for Hook. But like everyone else on the planet, you had your own crushes [that you knew would never form into anything more].

You had a crush on Christian Cage, ever since you were a little kid. So finding out the night that he debuted that he was officially going to be at the same company as you, you more than freaked out.

You jumped up and down at the news, yelling and fanning yourself. Most of the people on the roster knew about your kiddy-crush on Christian, so they laughed about the way you were acting. Hook, on the other hand, was sour. He wasn’t happy that another guy had that much of an affect on you.

Hook was the first person you started freaking out to, though. Despite the little show you put on before that, you engaged in conversation with him before anyone else. And god, you were over the moon.

“Babe, I seriously can’t believe this. Christian... at AEW... I can’t take it. I think I’ve dreamed of meeting him so many times and now it’s actually happening. I don’t even know what to do what myself, I literally love that man. I’m literally losing my mind right now, this is so insane.”

Hook was bothered, to say the least. He didn’t want to admit it, since it was stupid and right now you were only talking about the guy. It’s not like you were saying all the things you wanted to do to Christian Cage; which Hook tried to let those thoughts leave his mind, since it would only bother him more.

For most of the night, you stopped talking about Christian Cage until people brought him up to you again. Now Hook was entirely over Christian Cage and your bullshit. He wanted to let it pass because he was just as much excited for you and the arrival of Christian, but god this was so annoying to him. At this point, Hook just wanted to walk up to him and punch him square in the nose.

And he almost did, actually, when you had finally met Christian face-to-face for the first time. You were freaking out once again and Hook scowled the whole time when Christian wrapped his arms around you in a hug. He couldn’t stand to see you with someone else and secretly rolled his eyes when Christian had asked him to take a picture of him and you.

When your fangirling was over, your attention had went back to Hook. You were trying to be affectionate and speak to him, but he wasn’t really reciprocating it, which made you upset.

“Hook, what’s wrong? It feels like you’ve been dodging me.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Why don’t you go ask Christian? Seems like you like him more.” Hook crossed his arms like a child, turning away from you. You wanted to laugh at him so he’s for acting this way, but you knew it would’ve made him feel worse.

“I see. You’re jealous, huh? You have no reason to be! I could never love or like Christian the way I do with you. Plus, he’s old enough to be my dad. [Hook: You probably want him to be! Why don’t you freak out about me like that?] No, I don’t, stop being silly. I love you and only you, I’m sorry for making you upset.”

Hook was still bothered, so you had to make it up to him. The whole night you had him in your arms and talked your head off about how much you loved him, even pretending to freak out about him being in your presence and acting like he was the greatest thing in the world, which he was.

The two of you laughed about his little jealousy in the end after he told you to stop and even telling you how he was super close to knocking Christian’s head off of his body. You promised to him that you would keep your fangirling to a minimum and hoped that he would tell you when you were doing too much the next time it happened.

[jackdawyt]

Today I’m breaking down the newly-revealed story of Dragon Age 2’s cancelled expansion that would’ve acted as a precursor to Dragon Age: Inquisition, planning the events of Dragon Age II’s sequel more accordingly, whilst giving our player-protagonist Hawke a good farewell.  

The DLC was called “The Exalted March” and was canned because of Inquisition’s scope, and the team’s shift to the Frostbite engine. Thanks to BioWare’s Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development book, we have an in-depth look at this cancelled Dragon Age II DLC with concept art and detailed plotlines to follow.  

I’ve already broken down the Dragon Age 4 related-secrets discovered in this book in my last news update, so I recommend you checking that video out for the latest on the next Dragon Age’s current project. With that said, let’s take a behind-the-scenes look at Dragon Age II’s planned, and unfortunately cancelled final-DLC.

“The Exalted March was a cancelled expansion to Dragon Age II meant to bridge the gap between the events of DA II and the planned sequel, Dragon Age: Inquisition. The expansion focused on the fallout from Kirkwall’s explosive finale, with Corypheus serving as the villain.”

“After the end of Dragon Age II, when Meredith turns into the big red lyrium statue, she basically infests Kirkwall and you end up with what actually ended up being the red templars taking over Kirkwall and being essentially Corypheus’s army, Dragon Age II cinematic designer John Epler says.”

“To stop him, Hawke recruited various factions, having to choose between groups like Isabela’s Felicisima Armada and the Qunari at Estwatch, forcing the hero to split loyalties and risk relationships in the process.”

“It was supposed to bring Dragon Age II’s story to an end,” lead writer David Gaider says. “And it was supposed to end with Varric’s death. I was very happy with that, because all of DA II was his tale. The expansion was supposed to start at the moment Cassandra’s interrogation of him ended in the present. And we finished off the story with Varric having this heroic death.”

“it tied things up and would have broken so many fan hearts, something the writers on Dragon Age notoriously enjoy. But between a transition to the new Frostbite engine and the scope of Dragon Age: Inquisition, the decision was made to cancel the expansion, work any hard-to-lose concepts into Inquisition, and in the process, save Varric’s life.”

“Concept art for The Exalted March explored new areas previously not depicted in the Dragon Age universe, with costumes that reflected next steps for familiar characters. Varric was going to war. What would he wear? With Anders (if he survived Dragon Age II), the plan was to present a redeemed Warden.”

“A character that vaguely resembled Sera in Dragon Age: Inquisition was first concepted for Dragon Age II’s expansion content.”

“The writers sketched out plans to end the cancelled Exalted March DLC with Hawke having the option to marry their love interest. This included alternate ceremonies for party members like Bethany and Sebastian if players opted not to wed. There was even a wedding dress made for Hawke. The assets found its way into Inquisition, donned by Sera If she marries the Inquisitor, or the Inquisitor if they marry Cullen. The dress can also be seen in an ambient NPC wedding after a chain of war table missions.”  

“The destruction of a Chantry was explored in concept art as it might have happened in Exalted March. This idea would carry to the beginning of Inquisition.”

While its bittersweet uncovering the story of this canned DLC, especially with the planned send-off having Hawke potentially marrying their love interest, and witnessing the explosion of the Conclave first hand as a cliff-hanger leading into the next game. I’m very grateful that BioWare revealed the development secrets of this cancelled DLC to the public.  

I respect Dragon Age II a lot, it’s a title that was given way too much flack by the mainstream considering it was created within 9 months of production, and had one of EA’s lowest budgets for its creation. Yet despite that, the game stands on its own two feet with a 40+ hour story, new protagonist and a roster of remarkable characters that join the journey.  

“Dragon Age: Origins had the longest development period in BioWare’s history. Dragon Age II’s was the shortest. Production of Dragon Age II officially lasted just nine months, while the team was still supporting live content for Origins.”

One of the biggest reasons behind Dragon Age II’s “different” narrative was the fact that the developers were working insane hours, with zero time for rewrites and revisions, meaning that the first drafts conceived for stories and characters were often the final outcome.  

In light of that, David Gaider felt that the cast of Dragon Age II were some of his favourite Dragon Age characters to date, he believed that the game had some of the best writing throughout the series.  

“As we were writing, I realized there was going to be no oversight – that everything was going to be a first draft. Because nobody had time”. David Gaider says. “I sat down with the writers and I said: ‘Look here’s the conditions we’re working under. A lot of what we’re putting out is going to be raw. We’re not going to get the editing we need. We’re not going to get the kind of iteration we need. So I’m going to trust you all to do your best work.’”  

In summary, Dragon Age II is a remarkable feat, and doesn’t deserve the harsh criticism in my opinion. I adore the characters, narrative beats, and lore introduced in Dragon Age II that have been fundamental to my personal enjoyment of Dragon Age.  

While, it would’ve been nice to have this DLC finalised for Dragon Age II. There are many fundamental aspects of Inquisition that would be completely different if this DLC wasn’t canned. For example, Varric would be dead, having no appearance as a companion in Inquisition... Just thinking about that as a reality - that’s not a world I want to live in at the moment.  

So, while it’s sad that this DLC never came to be, there are (at least) a couple things, like Varric’s life, that we can be happy about, regarding “Exalted March’s” cancellation.  

[shyvioletcat]

this prompt seems made for fireman whitethorn and aelin: “Sitting on the doorstep in the cold, waiting for their S/O to come home from working on christmas day (emergency services?) and hugging them for so long whilst whispering ‘merry christmas’ into their neck and kissing any inch of skin they can reach.” 😭❤️

Here it is! The last one, getting it in on the last day of December with day 5 of the Rowaelin Holiday Celebration. And it’s another baby’s first Christmas thing but I’m not even mad about it. I hope you’ve all had an enjoyable holiday season, considering everything. Thanks for reading guys, sending hugs to everyone. Striking Matches Masterlist

~~~~~

Aelin sat on the swinging bench on the front porch of her home. It was bitingly cold, almost freezing, to try and keep it out she rearranged her fluffy scarf and hugged her mug of hot chocolate tighter. If she were sensible, she would be inside in front of the gas fireplace or even better in bed. But instead she was outside in the cold, waiting for her husband to get home.

Rowan was coming off a night shift and she was waiting for him, too excited and desperate to see him to do anything else. They had been stressing that his roster would have him working for the entirety of Yulemas Day and they were both heartbroken at the prospect. This Yulemas was not just the first in their new home, but it was also their first as a family of three. So when the roster had arrived, showing that his team would be on the night shift during the holidays, Aelin had just about jumped for joy. She had a sneaking suspicion that Lorcan may have had a hand in Yulemas miracle so his present had been particularly good this year as a very heartfelt thank you. Aelin sighed, the cold air biting at her lungs, holding her mug in one hand she reached down for the baby monitor that sat on the bench beside her and held it up to her ear. The only sound she heard was the hum of the feedback, Elspeth was still asleep.

It was then she heard an all too familiar vehicle approaching and Aelin put everything down, her face splitting into an unstoppable grin. Rowan pulled into the driveway and parked his truck, Aelin could see his smile through the window and the shaking of his head. Her knee began to bounce with excitement as Rowan got out of the car and she didn’t let him get much further before she was up and bounding down the steps, throwing herself into her husband’s waiting arms. She felt him breathe her in, his face burying in the scarf around her neck. Then he was kissing her, anywhere her skin was the least bit exposed. That set her giggling as his lips tickled her cheeks, her nose, her earlobe that peeked out beneath her beanie.

“Happy Yulemas,” Aelin whispered into his neck.

Rowan finally pulled back then. “Happy Yulemas, Aelin.” Then he kissed her lips. “What are you doing out here? It’s freezing, love.”

Rowan put her down and Aelin shrugged, tucking herself in close as they walked to their front door. “I couldn’t wait to see you.”

“What about Elsie?” Rowan asked, a gentle expression on his face that only appeared when talking about his daughter.

Aelin left the warmth of Rowan’s side to grab the baby monitor and she smiled as she heard soft babbling coming from it. “Looks like she just woke up.”

The two of them bustled inside, shedding layers and hanging them up on the coat rack.

“You go get her,” Aelin said as she unwound her scarf. “I’ll get you a tea.”

Rowa just nodded and headed upstairs while Aelin headed to the kitchen, prepping the tea and the pasties she had bought especially for breakfast today, and some puréed apple for the baby in a fancy little squeezy tube with a spoon on the end. By the time she had put the teabag in Rowan’s mug they two of them arrived in the kitchen. Rowan was whispering to his daughter, her hands on his face, dressed in her festive pyjamas covered in little cartoon reindeer. The sight made Aelin’s chest feel all fuzzy and she walked over.

“Happy Yulemas, my darling,” Aelin said as she kissed Elspeth’s chubby cheeks, earning the mother a smile. “Food or presents first?”

“Food,” Rowan said, depositing Elspeth in her high chair. He pulled it closer to him so he could feed her while he drank his tea and ate as well.

Aelin just watched them together, twin green eyes watching each other. She managed to eat two chocolate croissants by the time the other two were done, and started on a third while Rowan started the clean up. When that was done he picked up Elsie, kissing her cheek like he just couldn’t help it.

“Coming?” He asked wryly when Aelin didn’t move, too busy watching them.

“Yes, yes,” Aelin said, abandoning her croissant. For now.

A large Yulemas tree was set up in the corner of the living room, decorated to perfection and wrapped presents underneath it. Rowan sat on the floor beside it, putting Elsie down to let her roam free. She had nearly perfected crawling at 8 months old, Aelin put it down to her determination to follow her cousin Ruben around. The baby went straight for the tree and found the largest present, which conveniently belonged to her. Aelin sat down next to Rowan and he put his arm around her, kissing her temple before they watched what exactly their daughter was going to do.

Elsie sat on her butt, keeping her hands on the present so it fell in her lap. Her parents laughed as she slapped at it, squealing in delight. Rowan lent forward and ripped the paper a little, giving her a spot to focus on. Elsie took the hint, her little fist clutching at the paper and pulling at it until it started to rip. Aelin lent on Rowan’s shoulder, just watching and thinking. After presents Aelin would send Rowan up to bed for a nap and she would start getting lunch ready. Her parents were coming over, Aedion, Lysandra and Ruben too. Rowan’s big Yulemas present was the surprise of his parents coming as well, sneakily flying in a few days ago. For Elspeth’s first Yulemas they wanted to keep it simple, just spending time with family. Aelin couldn’t imagine it without his parents being there.

But this morning, it was just for them.

Rowan sat forward again, Elspeth making good progress on her present, but he didn’t lean forward to help her. Instead he grabbed a small box from under the tree.

“For you,” he said simply, as he dropped it in her lap.

“Oh, thank you,” Aelin replied, shaking the box.

“You didn’t snoop while I wasn’t here, did you?” Rowan asked, brows high.

“No, of course not,” Aelin said innocently.

Rowan pinched her side, making her yelp. “Why don’t I believe you?”

Aelin just smiled at him before ripping the paper off in one clean swipe. It was a pair of earrings, she could tell by the packaging then she had most definitely checked out last night. She flipped open the lid and choked out a laugh. It was a pair of rose gold hoops, but what had made Aelin laugh was what hung from them. Two little padlocks.

Aelin turned to Rowan, smiling so much her cheeks were starting to hurt. “I love them.”

“I thought you would,” Rowan murmured, his lips meeting hers in a gentle kiss. “Happy Yulemas, Aelin. Thank you for all of this, this life together.”

Tears were starting to prick Aelin’s eyes as she kissed him again. “I wouldn’t want it any other way. Happy Yulemas, Rowan.”

The moment they were sharing together was broken by musical laughter and excited clapping. Little Elsie had finally got the wrapping off her present, revealing a pack of small animals she was trying to pull from the packaging. Rowan smiled, moving forward to lie on his stomach so that he could help her.

“Let me help you, my little love,” Rowan told his daughter and started to dismantle the packaging. Then he booped her on the nose, making her giggle, “Happy Yulemas.”

Elspeth took that as an invitation to tackle his face and try to kiss him, making Rowan laugh as he tried to wrangle her before she took out an eye. It all made Aelin laugh too, wondering how she had been lucky enough to end up with all this, a husband who loved her and a darling little girl who was the light of their lives. It was a very happy Yulemas indeed.

~~~~~

Officially my last fic of 2020. Of course it was going to be Striking Matches.

Tags: @tangledraysofsunshine // @nalgenewhore // @highqueenofelfhame // @galyxsy // @fucking-winchester-trash // @literary-licorice // @http-itsrebecca // @highladyofthesith // @aelinfire-bringer // @soup-that-is-too-hawt // @sleep-and-books // @3am-reading // @but-she-was-aelin-galathynius // @rowaelinforeverworld // @alifletcher2012 // @westofmoon // @tswaney17 // @mydarlingfireheart // @rowansfirebringer // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen // @vanilla28 // @fireheart-of-your-dreams // @enquires-state-building // @im-not-rare-im-rarr // @your-high-lady // @mariamuses // @ttakeitbacknoww // @vi0let-femmes // @kindofawalkingpoem // @sleeping-and-books // @armixers-unite // @velarian-trash // @queenofxhearts // @princess-galathynius // @heroesofterrasen // @highladyofstoriesandmusic // @unassumingsodalovesherbooks // @empire-of-wildfire // @brittneym15 // @camerooonchiu // @worldoffae // @mybbyfeyre // @crackedship // @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books // @yourwhisperingshadows //  @thesirenwashere // @pilesofriles // @chemicha // @keshavomit // @sarahbringsoutmygay13 // @wifeofchrishemsworth // @impossiblescissorspeachpaper // @cat5313 // @judelovescardan // @illyrian-velaris // @flowerspringsea // @whitethorn15 // @whiskeybusiness1776 // @notaddictedtoanything // @thereaderandfangirl // @mynewdreamwasyou // @tintinnabulary // @the-regal-warrior // @searchingforbellarke // @queen-of-wings-and-fire // @court-of-fuck-me-daddy // @officialasianbitch // @burningbookz // @viajandosinalas // @chaoticskyy // @fanfictrash3000 // @blueeyes425 // @starseternalnighttriumphant // @bamchickawowow // @thehuntressofmoon // @giorgia-the-trashpanda // @flora-and-fae // @thereaderandfangirl // @illyrian-bookworm // @meltalgel-ig // @gay-book-nerd // @that-odd-puzzle-piece // @i-love-all-books // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @hizqueen4life // @the-third-me // @queen-of-glass // @belamoonbeam // @bestmelle // @cursebreaker29 // @b00kworm // @superspiritfestival // @aesthetics-11 // @maastrash // @the-last-apprentice // @charincharge // @aelin-queen-of-terrasen // @scarznstars // @absolute-dissapointment // @thesurielships // @df3ndyr // @trinitybailey2003 // @littleboxofthunder // @ladywitchling // @booknerdproblems // @rowaelin-cressworth // @sevenfreckles-for-sevenloves // @rolltide7 // @scandinavianromantic // @tillyrubes10 // @starwarsslytherin // @minaidss // @paytin77 // @jesstargaryenqueen // @anntheintrovert // @starborn-faerie-queen // @loudphantomdragon // @alyx801 // @amandaswallowtail // @louiseleblancdiggory // @abookishfreak // @woollycat22 // @claralady // @perseusannabeth // @fangirlprincess09 // @maddymelv // @sierrareads // @empress-ofbloodshed // @acciowests // @booksbqueen // @rowanwhitethornisbae // @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx /

[soranihimawari]

How Quaint

(Or how to make Sakusa Kiyoomi smitten)

Word count?: idek

Rating: 17+ due to strong use of implied sex jokes/acts of love// alcohol consumed// YA-language used.

Fluff bordering cute (nsfw) promises in the morning after.

Anything else? Nope! Happy reading & enjoy smitten/soft Sakusa

All you were told from an old friend was to meet at the bar around six. Said friend, who hasn’t changed much since high school & university, decides to contact his cousin who lives in the same city to meet at the appointed bar around the same time. You were told to wear something nicer than your everyday casual wear, so you video chat books FaceTime, making sure the camera was facing your closet. Surely there had to be something else far more entertaining for one professional volleyball player to do the night before his cousin’s next birthday.

Lo & behold, said friend picked up on the second ring with a wonderful smile. In all your years of knowing one Motoya Komori, you know that smile is meant he is up to no good…

“The dark green and gold ensemble would work best, Bar Louis is kind of a classy establishment,” he reminds you.

There is a teasing glint behind the eyes you stare at, wondering if he would feed you more hints as to why you’re headed to the newest bar and gastropub in your neck of the woods.

“Obviously it’s because I want to set up my difficult cousin with the best looking person I know,” Motoya chides.

You sigh, roll your eyes, and scold him for putting you in an awkward position.

“Oh come on,” Motoya continues. “Sakusa Kiyoomi, my loving cousin, needs to have some fun on his birthday…”

“And the immediate response of to set me up on a blind date with him? Are you mad? We both know how much n he hates it when you meddle in his private life,” you whine.

Placing the outfit for tomorrow at the forefront of your closet, you listen to Motoya go off in a little tangent about how much backlash His coating received from the latest dating rumors circulating his preferred taste in the dating pool; then again, maybe according to the athlete in front of you, you were perhaps a good distraction from the noise.

“Sakusa would appreciate the sentiment. I’m going to head to bed on a few,” Motoya said, stifling a yawn.

“Call me tomorrow if he is being extra prickly.”

The call ends and now you’re more amused as you walk over toward your bed and stare at the outfit o er your shoulder. When you are done with your nightly routine and are subsequently snuggled under your nameless store brand comforter, you muttered your blind date’s name hoping that perhaps Motoya would be right about this one.

—Bar Louis, 17:55–

Jazz nights typically began around four for happy hour at the joint. You check your smartwatch for the time and let out a nervous chuckle. Though you donned a different outfit altogether than the one you originally had planned, you made an effort of dressing up like you would have for a first date. Sure you’re out of practice in the love life aspect, yet considering how your last relationship ended due to an ultimatum whereby you chose lone success in your career at the time, meeting for drinks with an Olympian seemed like a cinderElla story.

In the hours leading up to the date, you decide to do a little more research about your date. Aside from his stats on the court from the official MSBY & Olympic rosters, you find an article about a very public (albeit tabloid-led) breakup through a source from the associated press. Turns out the stoic, elusive Sakusa had been put the emotional ringer of finally figuring out his significant other was just using him for his money and fame. Said person was also an heiress to a tea cup manufacturer company. You read in with related articles leading up to the breakup and even clink on a few links featuring radio reporters giving their two cents on his high-profile love life. Surely you were going to steer away from the topic, but you figure if he’s game, you won’t hesitate to ask him about it. You reason with yourself over pouring your freshly made coffee in the mug next to your brunch plate at home.

You’re enjoying the ambiance of the bar presently until you hear a boisterous sound of laughter from the side entrance. You suppose the person leading the small group of three, no four, is the tall blonde who makes the one with the frosted tips and the only red head kiel over laughing about something out other. A prank gone totally right during their supposed lunch break.

The fourth member of their party just looms over them slightly ajar to the right; he has a gloomy appearance and a pained expression in the link of his brows. This was not how Sakusa Kiyoomi wanted to spend his birthday evening. Honestly, the reason why Sakusa came in the first place after practice was because he didn’t want to confess to his cousin he didn’t want to come at all. He scans the room, adjusting his rolled shirt sleeves befor taking off his mask and placing it in his front pocket.

“C’mon, lemme buy ya a drink Omi-omi,” the blonde slaps his back mentioning it’s his birthday. “Consider it a gift from yer favorite setter.”

You turn around in your bar stool and flag down the bartender just as the blonde was approaching, your neat whiskey is paid for. The blonde pays you no mind when you say “‘scuse me.”

“No problem,” his accent is cute, you think. “Bartender, can I get—”

You’re way out of ear shot when you reach the airspace of your supposed date; ever since Sakusa took off his face mask, you noticed the photos you saw do no justice whatsoever to reality. Internally you panic because god.damn.why is this man so pretty to you? Why does his attire make him seem like he’s part of the Yakuza rather than a well paid athlete? You’re going to need more liquor courage if those onyx eyes of his study your figure like that. You recall Motoya reminding you of his cousin’s constant affinity for cleanliness, so when you down the rest of the drink in your glass, you’re quick to follow up the hand sanitizer station before formerly introducing yourself. Whomever Sakusa was with at the time chose to sequester a table by the live band (and they do so triumphantly, yay!)

“I’m yn,” you introduce yourself sticking out your (now disinfectant) hand for him to shake. “I believe Motoya set us up…?”

Sakusa arch’s his brow, at your bold statement prior to muttering a curse at his cousin. It’s not that the celebrant was not looking for love, no. It’s because his eyes lingered at the stranger with the cropped hair and muted gray scaled shirt with houndstooth pants topped off with comfortable sneakers (it was jazz night, so with such short notice, no brogues shoes). The person who captured Sakusa’s inquisitive curiosity now stands before him, stretched out hand hanging in the air and the other, an empty short glass.

“I don’t believe we’ve met officially,” Sakusa says. His voice is honey to your ears, at least in this setting anyways. Plus ten points for looks and charming charisma, you think. Sakusa shakes your hand once and a rare upturn of his lips when he says his name is seen. The moment of the fading smile is caught on film thanks to the redhead who came in with them.

“Would you like me to buy you a drink?” You ask, raising your empty one.

“I’m sure Miya already beat you to it, but sure,” he shrugs. “Why not?”

Across the way, the rest of the group he had arrived with (“for protection in case they’re a weirdo,” atsumu presses in the gym’s locker room) watches their teammate slowly, noticing the subconscious signs of their friend flirting with you at the actual bar.

“I don’t know how much longer I can handle seeing this side of omi-kun,” bokuto chuckles. Hinata and Atsumu though cheers in the general direction of where their friend’s back is facing before downing the shots. Bokuto joins them a second or so later.

Regardless of how the rest of the evening goes, both you and Sakusa, though at one point skeptical about this blind date, owe someone am apology. Especially since now, hours later into the night, you makes plans for another date, “a more official one other than grabbing some cocktails and enjoying the jazz musicians.” Sakusa, who waits with you at the curb for your ride share to arrive, ponders if you’re always this forward.

“Only to those I like,” you answer with a wink.

A blue sedan arrives and before you step inside, you turn around with the moon painting your aura in a silvery glow. You toss a small button (it’s a strawberry enamel pin embellished with a floating crown) which he caught with ease. He chuckles because while you two got to know each other when sitting with his cohorts (you didn’t mind at all really), you mention how the strawberry festival was coming up in your home town. The same festival you invite him to when you have a few moments alone again with him.

“G’night Sakusa. Oh! And happy birthday.”

Your smile shows off your pearly canines before you duck into said sedan and you speed off into the night. However, you ask the driver to cancel the ride. You pay him an additional 300 yen for stopping for you and offering to drop you off where the volleyball player was dropped off. You find his name on the list of the owners for the penthouse lifts and when he hears your voice through the intercom, you’re immediately buzzed through. Sakusa barely had enough time to set his electric kettle on its hot plate base when your fist collided with his door. If this was your one opportunity to have a bit of careless fun, you take it by the reins when you grasp his belt loops and thrust him forward catching his lips with yours to break his fall.

The snarl you hear when you open your eyes to reveal a beastly bashful glare in the doorway makes you almost regret this especially when Sakusa slams the door in your face for a second. You freeze momentarily before you freak out and audibly curse your actions. You almost give yourself a panic attack due to your stress level getting the better of you; yet when the door hinges creak open to see a flustered expression on your blind dates brow, he murmurs a teasing, “let’s try that again. a but first, I’m going to need you to come in…”

Oh? Oh! You blink twice registering what he said, allowing him to close the door b behind you. He stands at his full height between his front door, the step leading to the hallway, and you in the middle. You take the step up with confidence, prior to turning around so you’re able to reach his chest in your true height.

“I suggest you allow me to…” His voice is still kiss drunk and your lips still tingle with the mint and alcohol after taste of his cocktail. Hands, large and calloused (though they are softer than t what they appear to be) firmly grasp your legs behind your knees until your feet hover off the tile; you’re in a familiar hold in the arms of a date gone exceptionally well. You settle your legs off the sides of his natural waist when his arms lock you in the place he needs you to be. This time, you lean forward, brushing past his nose with your own, your lips breathing air into his lungs the moment you let him pick up where you left off.

“Eager are we? V-Ah,” hand tousled his curls when he bites your pulse point on your neck, revealing a sultry grasp you make.

“Very,” he soothes the teeth marks left behind with tactful kisses. “It’s my birthday after all.”

“Mm,” you inhale his cologne. “Indeed it is. Whatever shall we do?”

It reminds you of the rainstorm in the forest where you grew up in by the mountains. You notice a beauty mark on his jawline and you press your lips there.

“My lips are here sweetness,” he reminds you when you move from there to the prominent ones one his brow. He hasn’t had many lovers who noticed the more obscure ones.

An hour or so later, when he’she’s looming half dressed above you in his bed, your mutual clothing is strewn about haphazardly, your hands roam his shoulders before they cup his face. He angles himself against your warm thigh in his seemingly coming torso. He breathes in wants and exhaled desire when he’s gentle with you.

“Kiyoomi,” you warn him lips curling into an impish grin. You thought you did, but color him surprised when you barrel roll him to pin him on his back on his own matters.

“Oof,” he bounces in the aftermath of his back coming into contact with his sheets. They rustle beneath him when you strangle him more comfortably. Perhaps Motoya was right to set you up with hos cousin. This almost fun game of will you won’t he fuck me for a one night stand seemed amusing, yet you steel your resolve and shed some light as you hold Sakusa’s bare shoulder down against his own bed.

“If you wake up and still want to carry on, I won’t stop you,” you whisper against his ear. “I’ll still be here when you wake. Ok?”

“Ok,” he reaches up to brush your hair behind your ears. His smile can kill you if you’re human, but you, you he equates to a deity sent to show him how wonderful finding the universe in one person can be. You kiss his forehead, the beauty marks you found before, and the one closest to you when you kneel once more. You turn into his palm that cups your face and your lips leave an invisible mark over the three on the inside of his wrist.

A few minutes if quiet goes by until you find a way to lay yourself down in his embrace. You draw small constellations under your finger tips before Sakusa, ever stoic to the public, but not toward you, takes the same hand and kisses the back of it like those knights do in the fairy tales you read.

“Stay with me?” his voice is small and meek.

“Absolutely,” you answer.

Your impromptu date and subsequent night time lover, waits for sleep to consume you, then he sneaks himself out of his bed to begin his nightly routine. Surely, seeing you in just your undergarments peaking out through the top of his duvet makes something in him snap.

Perhaps both Miya twins, Bokuto and Hinata were right—knowing when you’re about to fall in love is just as scary as taking your turn to serve-though they were all wrong.

Falling in love with you first hand is the easiest thing Sakusa Kiyoomi in his second season post-Olympic prime, at the ripe age of 24 is the most natural thing he can do. And for that, he is grateful when he crawls back into bed and he scoops you into his arms and you, in your dreamlike state throws a protective arm over his chest. Smitten, that’s what he felt as the night’s activities makes his body crave sleep.

Early the next morning, Motoya receives a text from his cousin.

To: ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ OMI-KUN (07:43): so… how was it?

To: Komori (07:45): Kiyoomi can’t come to the phone right now. He’s a little tied up at the moment— 🙃 yn.

To: Komori (7:47): [image.1] I think he likes my knots…

[itsadamcole]

number one moms

fem!reader x rhea ripley

(requested by @mrsbaszler) “can you do a rhea ripley x fem!reader. the title being number one moms. and the prompts being “the top of the baby’s head is about ... here. and a foot is right this way.” and “stop being a baby hog!”

word count: 937

warnings: kind of fluffy

masterlist

— hi, i hope this turns out okay. this is the first request i’ve ever done —

***

You’re sitting in a hospital bed with your wife Rhea Ripley sitting at your side. You’re squeezing her hand, breathing heavily through another contraction.

“You’ve got this, love,” Rhea is saying to you. “I know you’ve got this.”

You look up at her and say, “Shut up.”

Rhea tries not to laugh. You’re in so much pain as the baby that’s inside of you is trying to come out of you into the world. You don’t want anyone to talk or say anything to you right now.

You were ecstatic when Rhea finally agreed to start a family. It took close to a year after your marriage to Rhea that she finally agreed.

Both of you were so happy when you got pregnant. Nine months went by and now you’re in your sixth hour of labor with probably many more to go.

The contraction passes and you lay back. Rhea is patting your sweaty head with a damp towel as you close your eyes.

“You okay, love?” Rhea asks. “I know I’m probably not helping much. I wish there was more I could do.”

You say, “Labor hurts. I’m basically pushing a watermelon out of me. It’s painful.”

Rhea laughs and says, “It’s almost over. You were at seven centimeters at your last check.”

You groan and say, “I still have three more centimeters to go before I can even start pushing.”

Your wife kisses the side of your head and says, “You’re okay.”

Another contraction hits you and you moan and groan because of the pain, squeezing Rhea’s hand.

There are four more hours before the doctor comes back to check on you. She checks your cervix and says, “Well, Mrs. Ripley, you’re officially ten centimeters dialiated. Let’s get you prepped to push.”

“Thank God,” You sigh.

Rhea is handed a plastic gown that ties in the back. She puts it on. The doctors sit you up in the bed and bend your knees before pushing them apart.

The lead doctor drapes something over your legs so your private parts are all covered.

When everything’s ready, the doctor says, “Alright, Mrs. Ripley. Push when you feel your next contraction.”

You nod, taking Rhea’s hand in yours.

As another painful contraction comes over you, you begin to push. You scream from the pain of your baby coming out of you. “Keep pushing, keep pushing,” the doctor says.

You continue to push, taking deep breathes. You’re squeezing Rhea’s hand like there’s no tomorrow.

“The top of the baby’s head is right about ... here,” the doctor says. After a few more minutes of pushing, the doctor talks again. “And a foot is right this way.”

Rhea is smiling as she looks down at the baby that has appeared in the doctor’s arms.

The doctor says, “Alright, stop pushing. Your son is here.”

You lean back with a huff. Rhea’s eyes are damp with happy tears. You’re trying to recover from pushing a seven pound baby out of your body.

The doctor looks at Rhea and asks, “Would you like to cut the cord?”

Your wife smiles and nods. The doctor guides Rhea as she cuts the baby’s umbilical cord.

The crying baby is taken away and cleaned up as the nurse cleans you up. You straighten out your legs and look over at the doctor and your son.

Rhea is holding your hand again, sitting in the chair at your bedside.

The doctor has wrapped your son in a light blue swaddle. She hands you your son and asks, “Do we have any names picked out?”

You and Rhea look at each other before your wife says, “We were thinking Cole Andrew Ripley.” You smile and nod in agreement.

The doctor smiles and writes it down before labeling the little bed. “I’ll be back in a little bit to checkup on the mother and child,” the doctor says before leaving with the nurse.

Your son, who is named after your very best friend Adam Cole, has your finger and is knawling at it. You look up at Rhea and you say, “I didn’t think you’d actually name him Cole. I thought you didn’t like Adam.”

Your wife laughs softly and says, “I don’t but I knew how much it meant to you so I went with it.”

“I love you.” you say, leaning your head up for a kiss, which Rhea gives to you.

Rhea says, “I love you too. Now, stop being a baby hog! I want to hold our son too.”

You giggle and hand Cole to Rhea.

Once you’re moved to postpartum, or what you call the “New Moms Ward”, you can have visitors.

First to stop by are your parents. Rhea’s are flying in from Adelaide, Australia and they’ll be here tomorrow.

Next is Adam Cole himself.

“We named him after you,” you say to Adam. “Since you’ve been my best friend since like middle school and his Godfather.”

Adam is almost shocked. “You didn’t name him after me,” he says. You giggle and nod.

Several members of the NXT roster stop by. Even Triple H, Shawn Michaels, and William Regal all stop by to congratulate you and Rhea on the birth of your son.

Once the craziness calms down, and you are alone with Rhea, you make room for Rhea on your bed and she crawls in next to you.

“You’re having the next one,” you say. “That was so painful.”

Rhea just laughs and holds you close to her in the dimly lit room. You snuggle into her, smiling softly as sleep finally finds you after a long, painful but happy day.

— i hope that this turned out okay and that you enjoyed —

[sketchingtons]

Hey so I just saw your Starling AU, and you said that Jason and Tim become friends, I'd like to hear more about that. Or just more about the AU in general it looks very fun!!

Always happy to talk about the Starling au! 😌🙏

Jumping off from something I mentioned in the last ask (which you can find here) : I think with Tim and Jason being such close friends, and Jason admiring Kori as much as he does, Tim and Kori’s apartment definitely becomes a getaway for him when he needs to get away from Bruce when they’re on the outs about something. Like, Dick’s apartment is always open to him (and Dick would love to have him visit, and always makes sure to mention it), but he most often defaults to going to Tim’s place since it’s sometimes easier to complain to a best friend than an older sibling. (Plus he can get into a ton of shenanigans with Tim to let off steam, and Kori is more of an enabler than anything, so it’s more fun to spend weekends away from Gotham there-also Jason knows Dick is usually there 9 times out of 10 anyway, so 🤷‍♀️)

Read more under the cut!

I also love the potential of Jason at 16/17, who is now a more permanent fixture/member of the Titans roster(and contemplating an identity to graduate to from Robin? 🤔), checking on Tim and his new team (Young Justice) as a sort of “Liaison” between them and the Titans-an official sounding title he decided on to swing the idea to Dick for approval, but he literally just goes there to make sure the kids haven’t gotten themselves killed, hang out a bit, maybe order them a couple pizzas, and also to tease the heck out of Tim in front of his friends akshdh

Another fun idea I had, was the idea of Tim finally being able to visit Jason at Wayne Manor for sleepovers and stuff? So Dick drops Tim off bc he, Kori, and the Titans are about to go off on an extended mission to space (Tim is about 12 at the time) and “no Tim, you can’t come along-even if you were field cleared right now, you’d still be staying behind because it’s way too dangerous!’ ‘Yea Timbo, listen to your dad and come say hi to Grandpa Bruce-’ ‘Jason-!’ And maybe on this sleepover, Jason confides in Tim that him and Bruce have been arguing worse than usual, and ‘B definitely thinks I pushed some rich asshole off a roof-which I didn’t obviously, even if he did deserve it-but listen, I found something when going through old family documents and I might need you to cover for me with Bruce while I book a flight to Ethiopia-’

Anyway this au can go one of two ways at this point, fluff or angst, and I’m kind of ready to explore both tbh 😂 🙏

(to offset the idea of angst, here’s Jason showing up to crash at Kori’s apartment for an impromptu sleepover-and to complain about Bruce-w/ Tim being immediately ready for makeovers and a gossip session 👏

[hrh-selene-r]

Beyond Words (4/?)

The Big Sweep

Eight years have come and gone, and it seems that everyone has moved on; Hannah has a new life with a Baby upstate, and even Ray found a bit of happiness in his life, but where does that leave Adam? Still in the same apartment with the same problems. Now, feeling adrift in the stagnation he finds himself in, Adam will try to break old habits and  see if he can grow-up. Something easier said than done, that is until he meets you.

This is a bit of a post series/retcon picking up from where Adam’s story left off in Season 6 episode 8 titled “What will we do this time about Adam?”

Adam Sackler x Reader

4.5K Words

Warning: Angst, break up, Depression, cursing.

It’s been a week of secret apartment hunting and script reading for any new possible project, but his efforts finally bear fruit. ‘Fucking Ray. Thank god he came through’ Adam thought as he was one the line of his favorite deli just a few blocks away from his apartment. He shifts anxiously as he rehearses in his mind what he wants to say to Jessa when the moment comes.

It’s been a week of secret apartment hunting and script reading for any new possible project, but his efforts finally bear fruit. ‘Fucking Ray. Thank god he came through’ Adam thought as he was one the line of his favorite deli just a few blocks away from his apartment. He shifts anxiously as he rehearses in his mind what he wants to say to Jessa when the moment comes.

‘Jesus. Fuck’ He fixes his hair fidgeting (well dreading, really) the confrontation to come. Her clinginess hasn’t stopped in the least, wanting to go out together, stay in together, have sex in their old haunts; she’s even been texting him more frequently. It’s not that he didn’t like the attention (or the sex), but Jessa’s always been aloof, and independent. If anything, Adam is the clingy one; things used to be so easy before but this change in dynamic was a bit jarring to him, to say the least.

‘She’s just making things harder’

He was a thousand miles away when he finally sat down, and in true Adam fashion, he doesn’t eat, so much as he scarfs down his meal; six eggs (four of them just the whites), and two slices of turkey bacon. It’s while drinking what’s left of his coffee that his phone alerts him of a new incoming text. Fishing it out of his pocket and saw that he had three texts; two from Luke, letting him know that he got the callback for the Jim Anderson play with the details of where it’s going to be, the other asking if he had finished reading another script that he’d sent him.

‘Yesssssss!!’ He cheered on the inside, holding in his urge to scream it out loud. Finally! At least some things were looking up.

The other text was from Jessa, making fun about one of her classmates, with a rather mean spirited snarky remark.

He scoffs a bit after reading it, her smarmy wit coming through her words. It's moments like these that remind him of their friendship, and their shared chemistry. The thought only served to churn his stomach, bringing to the forefront of his mind what he’ll tell her.

‘ “Look Jessa, I’ve been doing some introspection lately, and I’ve come to the conclusion that we’re better as friends and that I need some time apart” Too formal? No….Shit! “Jessa let’s be real, you would’ve left me in a few months anyway, so I’m doing us both a favor” ..’

“Motherfuck!” He hissed under his breath.

He looked at the time in his phone and got up. He has to get going, not wanting to be late to meet his building manager.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The building itself wasn’t too far, it was still in Brooklyn, not like he could afford anything more upscale, and even then, rents in the boroughs were outrageous; gentrification saw to that. But for all the artisanal ice cream boutiques and organic green tea, there’s a charm in Brooklyn that has captured his heart; for now, this was home. This place has seen his loves and loses and has seen him at his worst and at his best.

Adam walks up to the front steps where a woman is sitting on the stoop, seemingly waiting; looking at her phone as she does so. She looks up and sees him in the eye, causing him to look away awkwardly to avoid her thinking he was a creep or something, but her gaze was more curious than anything.

She tilts her head sideways to get a better look at him. “Adam?”

‘Do I know her? Oh fuck, have I fucked her?’ he thinks, his mid going through the roster of girls to see if he knew her from somewhere. “Yeah?” he asked cautiously after his mind came up blank. He doesn’t know her....at least he thinks he doesn’t know her.

“I’m Jaime. I’m the building manager? My dad probably told you about me when he showed you the apartment.” She explains, hopefully jogging his memory, as she gets up to face him.

“You’re Jaime?” He asks, taking a good look at her. Her hair is long and dark up, reaching up to her waist; her body, clothed in oversized jeans and a black tank top, is skinny but not too skinny as to make her look malnourished, her complexion is dark, coupled with deep brown eyes, a wide nose full glossy lips and a beauty mark above her left eyebrow.

“Yeah, were you expecting anyone else?” she smirked haughtily at him, making him to quickly reply out an answer to avoid any embarrassment.

“No! I just thought that I’d be meeting your dad.” he corrects himself and holds out his hand to shake her hand in greeting. She responded in kind, extending her hand to shake his. Her hand was adorned by wide silver rings in her fingers, her nails were decorated with an orange nail polish that was mostly chipped away.

“He got held up, asked me to do it. Legally I can, as the building manager. So, you ready to sign?”

“Uh, Yeah.” he answers her as she gestures for him to follow her, leading him up the stairs to what will be his new apartment.

Climbing three flights of stairs, standing in front of a door marked ‘3A’, Jaime places the key in the lock and opens the door before gesturing for him to go in.

The apartment itself was big, or big for New York standards, at least, It was a one bedroom apartment, complete with a separate living room, the bathroom was down the hallway, and with a small kitchen right next to what could be converted to a small dining room. It suited him. The apartment was eerily reminiscent of the one he lives in now, the most remarkable difference is that the kitchen has a separate countertop for a bar, not to mention that the living room was roomier, with a tall window providing the space with a good amount of natural light.

It was thankfully in his budget, and that’s what mattered to him the most, nevermind the fact that he basically found an affordable apartment with this much space; which to be clear, is nothing short of impossible.

The pair start to walk into the empty living room space. “You’re lucky you were able to snag this place. We haven’t gotten the word out yet, or anything about this place. So you got the exclusive first look.” Jaimie mentions as she walks to the kitchen counter, grabbing the papers and the pen.

Not knowing how to respond to her and him having his own special brand of social skills , Adam just answers with a simple “Yeah.”

“If anything you’re lucky you know Ray, being on the city council makes you meet a lot of people in the community; and stick-in-the-mud Ray knows a lot of people.” She smiles at him.

“Yeah well we’ve been friends for a while, now.” He replies to her with a polite smile back.

“Yeah. Anyway, this is the contract.” Jaime changes the direction of the conversation to the issue at hand, sliding the contract file in his direction with a pen in her hand.

“Sign here, and here….I need initials here.” She directed him as he started to sign the papers, trying to keep up with her quick directions.

Once it was finished, she handed him a stack of papers. “Okay, so this is your copy of the lease, and these are your keys. Heads up.” She dangled the keys before throwing them in his direction for him to catch, moving towards the exit to leave to the privacy of his new place. Stopping at the door, Jaimie looks back to face him as he turns around to face her.

“So you already know my name. Rent’s due on the first. If you need anything, my apartment’s on the first floor; apartment ‘1B’. If you need me but I’m not in, just slip a note under my door. ‘Kay? Any questions?”

“Uh, nope.”

“Then it’s a pleasure to meet you Adam Sackler. Welcome to the building.” With that she gave him a small smirk and waved goodbye, shutting the door behind her on her way out; leaving him alone with his thoughts in his new apartment.

It’s official now, he can’t put it off anymore. He’s following the advice Ray gave him; hell, even Josh said it. Here, in the emptiness of his new space, in the bright white light of day, he finally sees what he’s been avoiding for so long.

He loved her, he cared for her, but was he ever in love with her?

He was just as quick to get back to her as soon as he realized that things with Hannah wouldn't work out. He quickly left Jessa once he found out that Hannah was pregnant and….’I don’t know.’ ‘Maybe I’m with her ‘cause it’s easy...I’m so fucked up!’ Adam furiously scrubbed his face with both hands, breathing deeply and exhaling through his nostrils.

Alone, in the middle of the empty apartment, bathed in the light from the windows, he knew. It was just like that time; he knew what he had to do.

It was time to rip the band-aid off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later in the day, after doing a few errands he had to do for the new place, Adam was standing outside of his (old?) apartment building. Looking at the window of the apartment, he takes a deep breath, gathering his bravery to face the situation.

He makes the journey up the stairs, and opens the door. The apartment is empty, judging by the hour, Jessa’s probably still in class. Taking advantage of the circumstances, he starts packing up his things; his mind making a list of the things to take with him .

‘My clothes, books. It's a good thing I don’t have a lot of stuff. I can buy food, and I already got a bed taken care of. I’m gonna have to come back for my work out stuff, my weights and the bench at least.’

Little by little Adam starts to take his favorite things, taking his time to consider what to leave behind. A practice he’s by now well-used to.

The front doors opens and in walks Jessa, her hair in a bun, wearing a loose red tee shirt with denim blue high waisted jeans, the bags in her hand suggest she bought something.

“Hey you in?!” Her voice rings through the small apartment, reaching Adam’s ears, causing him to freeze, inwardly flinching in anticipation of what’s to come. ‘Time to face the fucking music. *sigh*’ He moves out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to find her putting things away on the fridge.

“Heeeeeey.”

“I brought some groceries since the fridge was empty.” she told him casually, her head buried inside the refrigerator as she took things from the bag and placed them inside.

“You have a good day?” His stance is awkward, his hands behind his back as he debated on how to best start the conversation; break it to her while hoping to god that she takes it well.

“Not bad, Nancy is a fucking cunt, but that’s just her. Either way…” Jessa approaches him, pulling him for a kiss, smiling as she does so “She’s just irritates me, so...how was your day?” Her hands run through the familiar course of his chest sweetly. A small shrug moved his shoulders nonchalantly as he looked at her. Was this really it? “It was okay, I did a few errands.”

Hearing this her brow furrowed a bit, looking into his eyes as he stared at her. “You did errands, what errands? Didn’t you have an audition?”

“Yeah, look can we talk?” He asks as he nervously fidgets, gesturing for them to sit down on the couch. If there’s something that can be said about Adam is that he’s as subtle as a hammer.

Sitting on the coffee table in front of her, he nervously passes a hand through his hair, trying to find a way to get what he needed to say out. Jessa looked at him curiously, waiting for him to talk but finding herself growing impatient as the seconds passed.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” She urges calmly.

Adam’s forehead wrinkled in concentration, both of his hands pressed against his face as his fingers covered his eyes. “This isn’t something that I wanna have to tell you. I know this isn’t fair to you, especially after the whole thing with Hannah.”

“I’ve been doing some introspection, or whatever, and um...I’ve been going to meetings…”

“You’ve been going to meetings?” She interrupted, concern etched on her her face as her brows lifted before furrowing in thought.

“Yeah.”

“Well. Have you been drinking?”

“No!” He answered urgently. “I just…” Adam’s lips tense into an outstretched line for a brief moment while he finds a way to verbalize his thoughts.

“I’ve been going to meetings and taking time to think….And…” A few seconds pass. “Fuck” he whispered under his breath in a sigh. “And I’ve come to the conclusion that I; that WE..need time apart.” His eyes searched hers for any indication of understanding or sympathy, but they found nothing. Her gaze was blank as she was deep in thought as he spoke. “ Look, this has nothing to do with Hannah. Whatever she and I had. It’s over, it’s finished.” His baritone voice is soft and calm as he tries to sound as serious as possible. In his mind he is an adult trying to have a serious conversation with his partner. Gone is the lovable boyish demeanor he usually carried; replaced with a grim faced man as he leans over to look at her. His elbows rest on his knees and clasps his hands together, giving away his anxiety.

“I never told you how sorry I am for that...and I hurt you. It’s just that, I don’t know if it was filming the movie or if it was just life in fuckin’ general, but I was reminded of what Hannah and I had. I felt it, so I felt that there was too much history there to not try and set things right. To help her, and be there for her.” The sound of his voice reverberated through the small apartment as he looked at the floor. “ But we’re too different now and want different things. And...Now I feel like I need some space to figure shit out alone. Not just for me, because I really do care about you, Jessa.”

Jessa looks at the ground in silence, not wanting to look at him in the eyes and see her worst nightmare.

“I’m gonna be moving out, take the time to focus on my life. You can stay here, keep most of the stuff. I’ll still pay for your classes. I meant what I said.”

Jessa nods slowly, pursing her lips while processing his words.

“Okay...if that’s how you feel.” Her tone is a bit above a whisper, feigning understanding in her short words. She shrugs her shoulders and crosses her legs on the couch with a nonchalant expression. Like everything else, nothing fazes her.

Adam scoffs at her response, unable to believe how she can be so calm while he was essentially breaking up with her. No, he saw what this was. “ Oh, come the fuck on Jessa, this is just like last time. Do you seriously not give a fuck? I know you feel something. Get angry; hit me, throw something at me. For fuck’s sake, it isn’t good to bottle everything in...Just tell me how you feel.”

A deep sigh went through her nose, her eyes showed that something was beneath the surface as she shakes her head slightly and looks at him. “What do you want me to say? You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re communicating; and if this is how you feel, then there’s no point in fighting against it.”

‘Un-fucking-believable.’ Adam moves his left hand towards his cheek, lightly scratching at the hairs in his stubble. “That doesn’t mean that you’re not feeling anything; that your feelings aren’t valid.” He lets out a breath of frustration as he realizes that she put up her walls to him and she won’t budge. ‘The hitting and screaming would’ve been better.’ “Fine.”

Keeping with her attitude, Jessa clicks her tongue and leans back lazily before asking the dreaded question. “So when do you move out.”

“I was thinking about leaving today.”

“Oh...so you have a place to stay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. My stuff’s mostly packed, and I’ll come back for the rest later...But I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“Adam, stop worrying! You’ve done nothing wrong. If you feel you have to do this; you gotta do what you gotta do.” A sardonic smile graces her face. She makes everything sound so simple; black and white.

He gently grabs her tattooed wrist in his large hand and looks deeply into her green eyes, trying to find a way to get through to her, to really talk to her.

“Hey..I still care about you. okay?” He told her gently, almost as if she were a child.

“Yeah.” Her response was short and curt.

Her walls remain up; impenetrable in their might as she refuses to show him, to show the world an ounce of vulnerability. A defense mechanism that took years in perfecting. An aloof facade she shows the world.

Jessa moves to get up, leaving him alone. Adam’s well aware that this was just a front, Jessa hasn’t changed,. He couldn’t tell how bad it was, but he’s doing this for her too. He knew it’d be worse if he stayed.

No other words were said as she sat crossed legged in their bed, smoking a cigarette while he finished packing. In the back of her mind she wonders if this is what being in a relationship is really like; being off and on, having that person come in and out of your life….It’s what her father did. ‘No’ She knows that’s not true. She’s seen people get married, have families and be happy. And besides, Adam’s not remotely like her father, he’s not like the previous men in her life. He’s different.

She moves to the kitchen, pouring herself a glass or orange juice, pretending that nothing is wrong, desperately trying to ignore his presence. She found it unbearable to watch as he left her for a second time. This time she’s more aware of her feelings for him, and she dreads what will become of them, of her while watching Adam go in and out of the apartment; getting his things downstairs.

He tried to be as quick as possible; throwing this mindlessly into garbage bags, making sure he took only what was important to him.

The hardest part about breaking up is trying to leave and stay on good terms. And he’s attempting to do just that. He figured that if he could do it with Hannah, maybe it was possible with Jessa.

Adam reached into his pocket and fished out his keys, he placed them on the counter beside the sink.

“You take care of yourself, okay?” He said awkwardly, looking at her one last time. His mouth is etched in a pout and his eyes are sullen at her lack of reply, but he still waits a few seconds for her, almost as if he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t even look at him as he made his way out of the apartment.

Closing the door behind him, Adam takes a moment to just stand there, his mouth still set in a pout, his brows furrowed as he feels the weight of what’s happened.

Both lovers stand on either side of the closed door, each hoping that the other would take a step forward to open the door; to go back to the other, but neither one does. Adam stays there, feeling the guilt over what he’s done slowly spread; lamenting not just the loss of his lover, but the loss of his best friend.

‘It had to be done. There’s no point in staying anymore.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Inside of the apartment, Jessa just stood there, staring at the door; willing him to come back to her. Her face morphs from boredom to one of pure heartbreak. Her eyes start to water as her breathing changes to an erratic pace.

In the cold emptiness surrounding her, she couldn’t pretend anymore. Her mask vanishes, revealing the abandoned girl underneath, watching as her friend walked out of their home and her life.

This time she can’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt; can’t deny the devastation she feels as her world blurs. She places the palm of her hands over her eyes as the tears overflow.

‘He’s done this before, and he came back; he’ll do it again.’ She reasons in her desperation, clinging to the idea that Adam will be back, that this is just a pattern. Because the alternative would be to accept that he left her for good.

‘Fucking Hannah!’ As she cries her thoughts become more chaotic. ‘Don’t go. Don’t do this to me.’ Her inner voice cries as she slides slowly towards the floor, bringing her knees towards her chest.

‘This is just how he is.’ She reasoned, still expecting him to come back, her mind repeating his last words over and over. He did say he cared about her, he still loved her; but as she continued to reason his return, a small part of her feared she was just clinging to an empty promise, that she was stupidly holding on to hope...and that he really did leave her.

The silence inside the apartment is maddening, the space is cold; isolated from the world filled only with her small cries.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He should be used to moving, considering how often he did in the past eight years, but no, it was always a bitch. And the worst part about it? Doing it because of a break up. To say that it was awkward was an understatement, but he needed to end things well off with Jessa. God knows he’s ran into people from his past before enough times to know better. New York may be populated by millions of people, but it can turn into a very small place, when Karma feels like it. It’d be worse if he didn’t do it this way, he’s sure of it.

After getting the last of his things upstairs, he starts unpacking bit by bit. He doesn’t have a refrigerator yet, or a bed for that matter; those come in tomorrow, but Adam has been through worse, and one day without furniture hardly phases him. That being said sleeping on the floor isn’t something he’s looking forward to. Plus, this is what friends are for isn’t it? ...to crash on their couch when needed?

Adam takes his phone out, scrolling through the few contacts saved in it. He could ask Ray; it wouldn’t be the first time he’d stay at his place, especially after a breakup. He could also ask Josh, he had offered his couch to let him crash before; maybe the offer’s still on the table.

‘Screw it.’

He hits on Josh’s contact and places the device next to his ear, waiting for a response on the other side of the line.

“Hey.” Josh’s deep voice sounds through the phone’s speaker.

“ Heeeey...listen, I got a favor to ask, if it’s not too much trouble, or whatever.” Adam started nervously, scratching his head as he talked.

“Yeah, man. Shoot.”

“I broke up with Jessa.” He blurted out. “I moved out.”

There was a slight silence on the line before Josh responded. “Well, shit. Do you need a place to stay? Until you find something?”

“I already got a place. I just need a place to crash until I can get the bed and fridge brought in here.”

“ Well you’re in luck, then. I’m actually on my way back from work. I gotta stop to pick up a few things and then I’m headed home.” Josh explained in his easy-going tone; like nothing bothers him at the moment. “ I’ll let Vanessa know; she’s coming over tonight.”

Adam hesitated “ I don’t wanna shit on your plans.”

“ Oh, fuck off. You’re not. Dude, trust me, Ness loves you. She’d be pissed if I didn’t help out. My sofa es su casa.”

Even though Josh can’t see him, Adam smiles at his friend’s words; his teeth peeking out from his lips and the corners of his eyes wrinkle as he does so. “ Yeah, okay. Just let me know when you’re at home. Text me or whatever.”

“You got it. Tonight we’re eating homemade Mexican food.”

“Yeah, Thanks.”

“Alright, see ya.”

With that, Adam hung up, comforted in the knowledge that he’ll be able to sleep in a comfortable, and most importantly cushioned, tonight. At least now he had a place to call his, and by pure stroke of luck, the apartment’s rent wasn’t as high as it could be. He’ll furnish it, little by little. He lives in New York, so someone’s bound to not want a couch somewhere. That leaves the matter of his kitchen. He’d have to buy glasses, plates and food, to at least have the very basics.

‘A bookshelf in the living room. I’ll put my bench in the bedroom...clothes go in the closet, I gotta get a chest or something with drawers..’

He turns to pick up the trash bags storing his clothes, taking them through the small hallway towards his bedroom closet. He’d have to do laundry before the end of the week, he reminded himself as he realized that he was in such a rush to pack everything that he didn’t think that some of his shirts in the bag used to be strewn across the floor of the apartment and stank of sweat.

He spent the next few hours doing what he can, organizing his clothes between what’s clean and what was to be laundered, he took his time to make sure everything was arranged to his liking; a far cry from how he was living 8 years ago. Back when he was an aimless mess living in an apartment cluttered with tools and random pieces of reclaimed wood; when he would rather fuck around with no strings attached than be emotionally vulnerable with someone.

To Adam, it seemed like a lifetime ago. Gone was the aloof fuckboy with an awkward haircut and no direction. Now in his place stands a more empathetic and responsible man.

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard his phone come to life, sounding an alert to let him know he had just received a text and prompting him to look for it. Reaching for his back pocket, he fishes out his phone to see a message from Josh came in saying ‘Just got in.’ on the lit up screen. He’d finish unpacking later; now he was hungry, and Mexican seemed like just the thing…

——————————————————

Hey guys, I’m baaaaack!!!! :D

2020 has been a hell of a year, but I still wanted to end it on a good note. So here we have a short but sweet chapter where Adam wants to leave Jessa to focus on himself, but he knows how fragile and lonely she can be and tries to do it gently....Does it work? We'll have to find out. Safe to say, Jessa will be a reoccurring guest star on this show, so we’ll see how Adam handles this and how he manages to move on. So, leave a comment and let me know what y’all think.

Mucho Love and and a happy New year!!😊

Xoxo Selene R

Tag list for some friends (let me know if you’d like to be added) 

@kowalskibro-adamdriverblog @tsarinastorm @alexdaleks @thrivingamidstchaos @klauscarolove @misskitred @ah-callie @sarcasticbitch @jynz-andtonic @oh-adam @commanderbensolo @kylos-wren @adamsnackler @patersonn-kylo @adamsnacc-kler @ellelaconiwrites @that-only-exists-in-my-mind @ktellmeastory @fallinallinmendes @noocturnalchild

[takoyakitenchou]

masquerade ch.8

7? idk but this one isn’t on ff or ao3 yet i think

12:58 PM Nakiri Erina: Hi, it’s been a while. Are you free the day after tomorrow?

1:03 PM Yukihira Souma: how’d u get this #?

1:04 PM Nakiri Erina: Alice gave it to me. 

1:04 PM Yukihira Souma: sup

1:05 PM Nakiri Erina: I’m opening Kiralyno Haza. It’s not like I want you to show up or anything.

message opened

1:37 PM Nakiri Erina: Hello?

2:40 PM Yukihira Souma: hey sorry i just got on break. congrats nakiri!

2:41 PM Nakiri Erina: It was expected.

2:41 PM Yukihira Souma: surprised it took you so long to open. hurry up and get your 3 stars bubs then we’ll really see who’s the better chef

2:41 PM Yukihira Souma: and did you get tired of shinomiya or did he get tired of you?

2:42 PM Nakiri Erina: I got tired of him. Duh. Are you not coming?

2:42 PM Yukihira Souma: save 4 seats for me. i’ll be a balloon by the time im done w your food also i hope you have enough ingredients for a shokugeki after

“Ugh. You’re as shit at texting as ever,” Erina groaned, throwing down her phone, but then she picked it up again to stare at those four particular characters. Bubs. God, it had been so long since she’d seen that in her messages.

(under the cut to see souma and erina start to get their shit together lol)

To think that she had been the one to break the radio silence between them — good lord, that was fucking annoying. It was weird to think about. There had been plenty of opportunities for them to talk again, and yet they’d somehow managed to evade each other since they’d run into each other at Nakiri Mansion. Whether this was coincidence she had no idea, but Souma hadn’t been at the official Totsuki-sponsored 92nd gen alumni reunion, and Shinomiya had dragged Erina to some culinary conference that made her miss the freshman training camp where Souma threatened the living shits out of the poor first years but ended up not cutting anybody from the roster.

Erina had done her best not to linger on the fact that she had had to ask Alice for Souma’s new number, but goddamn would that remain at the forefront of her mind for the week following Kiralyno Haza’s debut until she got frustrated enough to the point where she damn near chucked her own phone out the window.

It was thanks to Alice that her condo was still in one piece.

The COO of the Nakiri-Totsuki Group was sitting next to her at a bar in Budapest, helping herself to her third shot of tequila, a few empty glasses and a growing tab between them. “Yukihira’s coming?”

Erina nodded, smiling despite herself. “Yeah. I guess he is.”

Taking sudden interest in her drink, Alice remained silent for a thoughtful moment before she said, “I haven’t seen you this happy since you two broke up.”

With a half-hearted huff, Erina scoffed, “Yeah, right.”

Alice gave her a long look. “I’m not kidding, Erina. Who was that other guy you were seeing? Darren?”

“Aaron. Darren was before him.”

“Doesn’t he have a 3000-seater concert hall named after him?”

“I couldn’t care less.” Erina said, and Alice knew it was 593% true. 

Whenever tolerating a guy got tedious, Erina had extinguished whatever spark he thought he had ignited, pretended to be hung up on it, and started over, systematically breaking hearts left and right, all the while building titanium defenses around her own.

And then, a year and half ago, she’d seen Yukihira Souma at Nakiri Mansion, and everything had changed. 

So. Much. Pining. Alice was more than a few years past sick of how long those two idiots were dragging their shit out.

Erina picked up her belongings. “We should probably stop day-drinking.”

“Sure,” Alice said, paying the tab before Erina could get her wallet out.

“I’ll pay you back for that,” Erina promised as they left the bar.

Alice put a hand on Erina’s shoulder. “You can pay me back by not fucking up your confession again.”

At this, Erina frowned. A withering counter should’ve been second nature, but she found herself incapable. She wanted to believe that whatever piece of her heart that had clung to the hope that Yukihira Souma would come back to her was nothing more than a memory. More than anything, she wished the voice at the back of her head telling her to move on and forget him and their past would finally win out, because there were people in her present waiting for her, and it would be a sin to ignore that.

But she couldn’t say the words; her heart belonged to Yukihira Souma — would always belong to him — and all broken promises and relationships notwithstanding, that was something she could not deny.

-

Although Souma technically hadn’t been invited to the kitchen for shift drinks when the front doors closed, he had taken the liberty of bringing a bottle of cab sauv that he and Erina finished in like ten seconds flat, to hell with sharing with staff, family, and friends.

The second she felt the words wanna come over? slip out of her atmosphere-drunk mouth, she knew it was going to take more self-control than she had not to demand he stay with her forever. 

“So, Yukihira,” she said like they hadn’t been catching up for the last two hours when they were sitting on the couch in her living room with pinot noir. “How’ve you been?”

The corners of Souma’s lips twitched. “Not bad,” he replied. “Mostly cooking. A few interviews and shit. I’ve been keeping up with all your stuff, by the way. Three tastings in twelve hours next Monday seems like too much, Nakiri.”

Erina frowned. “Even if you were as talented a stalker as Mimasaka Subaru, how the fuck would you know that?”

He held up his phone. “You were signed into my calendar app when I last downloaded a backup copy four years ago. So every time I get a new phone, I transfer all the old data.”

Erina stared at him, horrified. “Holy shit. You’ve seen everything?”

Shrugging, Souma said, “Not everything. Just… your dates with Darren. And Aaron. Also, I knew about Kiralyno opening before you texted me so I’d already cleared out my schedule by then.”

Erina had stopped listening halfway through. “Wait, Yukihira…”

“It’s okay, Nakiri.” Souma waved it off. “You’re here with me now. All that matters. Let’s not look too far into our past, yeah?”

“Don’t look into my future either, idiot! Sign out of my Google calendar right now!”

Souma shook his head seriously. “Sorry, Nakiri, I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Why the fuck not?”

He gazed at her intently and rested his chin on his fist. “I need to make sure I’ll still be in it.”

Erina rolled her eyes. “Don’t say sappy shit like that. It doesn’t suit you.”

“What if I just stayed?” he asked.

She sighed. “I think the question is, would I even let you? I thought we’re putting the past behind us? Don’t you want this back?” She pointed at the white cloth she was wearing on her wrist. His white cloth.

Souma ignored the second question and pulled Erina to him by her waist, close enough that she could feel his warm breath as he spoke, forehead brushing hers. “Another thing we both know is that you and I could never be just friends.”

“Take your hands off me or I swear I’m either going to spill my wine or kiss you, and I seriously do not care which.”

He leaned back with a sad smile. “You wouldn’t let me stay, would you, Nakiri?”

“I couldn’t,” she said helplessly. “We don’t even know where our lines are.”

“Do we need lines?” Souma asked, finishing his glass and balancing it on his knee. “You and I are beyond this dimension.”

Erina stared at him, memorizing every last square centimeter of his features — the way his hair seemed to get shorter every time they met until he somewhat resembled someone of his culinary pedigree; the way the creases formed on his sleeves along the contours of his toned arms.

“You know, Nakiri, if you let me stay, you wouldn’t have to stare so much.”

She tore her gaze from his collarbone, her whole face turning red. In all her twenty-one years, that had to be the most embarrassing moment of her life. “Shut up! I’m not staring!”

He was watching her with wistful eyes. “I wouldn’t mind if you were…” 

And they both heard it.

I wouldn’t mind if you were mine.

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

Hi! I loved the yakuza headcannons! I was wondering if you could pls write relationships headcannons for yakuza!jotaro & yakuza!josuke? (Separate pls) thank u and have a nice day!

Of course you can anon! I’m so glad you loved the head canons! ;; it means so much to me~!! I hope you enjoy these head canons~! The basis of the relationship headcanons for this one will be a Hitmen!Reader ~! 

» » Admin Ko

ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴊᴏᴛᴀʀᴏ ᴋᴜᴊᴏ 

To begin, the relationship between the two is practically non-existent in the beginning. Jotaro is a man who throws his whole life into his work and will stop at nothing to complete what has to be done for the sake of being ahead of the game. 

He does meet his significant other in a spur of the moment. It had been a rather rough week with non-stop shipments of supplies and the new recruits from Green Dolphin being brought in. To say the least, Jotaro was in a bad mood. 

Pair that with a surprise top level one hit mission from Joseph and you have the perfect recipe for a short fuse Jotaro Kujo.

He hires on a whim. He’s heard nothing but good reviews from his siblings on this hitmen, and that she’s someone that he can fully put his trust into. Of course, being Jotaro he does no such thing and merely hands her the manila folder containing the assignment. 

Now keep in mind, none of the Joestars judge who does the job, as long as it’s done effectively and efficiently. With that philosophy under their foundation, they are more than happy to lets their hired hitmen have some free target practice if their subordinates act out of line. 

Anyways, Jotaro assumes that will be the last he’ll see of the highly praised hitmen. Of course he’s wrong as the next time he meets her it’s in the midst of a sparring session with Lisa Lisa. The Joestar estate is bustling with people and he should’ve trusted his gut instinct when he walked into the training room that morning. 

To say the least, once both of them were paired to spar he definitely hadn’t been expecting the level of expertise she demonstrated when she promptly flipped him onto his back to put him into a choke hold. He also definitely did not have a dust of pink on his cheeks when he met her steely cold gaze.

Least to say, his siblings teased him that weekend and his reliance on the hitmen became a great deal higher. 

Eventually, (After at least 20 successful missions) they end up as an official couple. It only really happened when she came back in a state that he had never seen her in before and his heart practically lurched out of his chest at the sight of her wounds. 

Without a doubt, that was the day Jotaro knew he fell in love, and the same day the hired hitmen became a permanent hitmen for the Kujo Faction.

Now, Jotaro isn’t much of an affectionate man or one to uselessly throw words around. He’s the type that when he says something it’s something he put time and thought into. His actions being the same. After all, anyone who met the male knew that he didn’t waste anything. 

She’d find small trinkets with simple notes in her room. A meal she had mentioned in passing that she wanted set and made for her at the absolute best quality, and one of the priority patients within the medic listings. 

It may seem like nothing, but the effort, time, and consideration put into these little things helps solidify the idea that Jotaro is interested and is willing to stay. 

Least to say, the one time she wore a new outfit for a reconnaissance mission, she ended up having to pass it off to Polnareff as Jotaro promptly threw her over his shoulder and headed straight for his private quarters. Easy to say that Polnareff gave Jotaro a rather hard time the next day. 

Other than that, Jotaro isn’t necessarily the possessive type-- though he can be-- he knows for a fact that you’re loyal and can take care of yourself in any situation. He just tends to...let certain emotions cloud his better judgement when she accompanies him to an extravagant business meeting. The looks from the other men and women bring him on edge, and if it isn’t obvious enough, by the end of the night she has marks all over her neck to show his claim. (Of course her own are practically embedded in his own and again Polnareff has the time of his life teasing Jotaro the next day.)

ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪɢᴀꜱʜɪᴋᴀᴛᴀ ᴊᴏꜱᴜᴋᴇ

Definitely the one who does a double take when he first sees her. He actually met her on the streets of Morioh and thought nothing of her than just a mere civilian making her rounds and living her daily life. Boy was he wrong.

Their relationship literally blows up after the first meeting. Unlike Jotaro, Josuke has no issues making connections and speaking with anyone who has monetary value on their head. 

The first time he tries to manipulate her into his hands for a free mission, it ended rather horribly as he found himself on the receiving end of a very intimidating stare down. Least to say, he stops trying to manipulate her and is far more interested in what her ideals are. He counters her stare with a wicked grin of his own. 

From then on, he actually hires her for more missions than necessary. It got to the point that even Okuyasu had pointed out the hitmen’s constant presence within their faction. 

Not even a week after Okuyasu made that statement, the hitmen found herself a new forever home and a permanent job on the Higashikata hitmen roster. 

That day,there was a large bout of arguing from the sudden move, as Josuke did this really without her knowledge, and the surprising lost puppy look that was almost placed permanently on the leader’s face as she stomped out practically livid. The lost puppy look was soon replaced by one of absolute joy once she finally warmed to the idea. Though that came after two weeks of course. 

Josuke is very in tune with his emotions-- though like any human he can lose control of them at any given moment, and in the most surprising case he actually lost control of his emotions one night when both of them were seated in his small base. Side by side whilst comparing notes on a couple of organizations. 

The way her hair fell and the concentrated look in her eyes was enough to make Josuke blank and lean in to kiss her. It goes without a doubt that the pair officially become a couple the next day. 

Now, Josuke is a very touchy person. He will always have at least an arm around his lover and will not hesitate to throw sharp and snarky comments to anyone who even attempts to court her.

When he hears word of his subordinates making their own jokes about her in any sort of way, best know that the next day their skins and fresh corpses are being transported over to Italy for Trish to have her fun experimenting with the new corpses. 

When it comes to showing affection, Josuke has no issues displaying his emotions for her. He has put his trust in her and assumes it’s given to him back at the same volume. He won’t hesitate to pull her onto his lap during a meeting if she’s standing guard at a door, or to touch her in a teasing manner at the dinner table. 

His favorite thing to do is to place a hand on her thigh while they’re sitting side by side and rubbing circles along her inner thigh with his thumb. 

Though to the surprise of no one, anything he does that remotely could lead to a more...steamy session will always lead to a steamy session. 

It’s gotten to the point that the commanders of his chain place bets on how long they’ll last without fucking one another senselessly. 

[darkarfs]

my favorite WWE matches of 1997

Though I officially started watching wrestling in 1995 (my family famously first bought SummerSlam that year, which would be my first wrestling show ever, because it was $25.00. 1995 was a bad year for wrestling), I became a regular watcher of both WWE and WCW Raw and Nitro, and was able to buy my own PPVs, around summer of 1996, when Hogan turned. The first show I bought with my own money was In Your House: Buried Alive, though I kept up with weekly TV. And, for better or worse, I've been a fan ever since.

1997 was a REAL rollercoaster year for wrestling. The NWO was becoming a bloated mess in no time at all, Bret Hart was riding high, while he and Shawn Michaels publicly hated one another, a young Rocky Maivia was slowly transforming into the most charismatic wrestler of maybe all time, a young Steve Austin has broken his neck and can only work 5 minute matches but is somehow the most OVER wrestler in the company, and by the end of the year, the Screwjob happens, Bret's in WCW, Shawn's on handfuls of SOMAs (yet main-eventing). In a lot of ways, I'm grateful, because I side-stepped all of Hogan's WWF and WCW run. But it was a tornado of a year for a business always on precarious footing, as it ever has been.

And it gave us some CRACKING matches! - The 1997 Royal Rumble I love me a Rumble, and it's REALLY hard (but not impossible) to find a bad one (1993, 1995, 1999). And I personally love one with a storyline that runs throughout, and in this case, it's the ultimate heeling of Stone Cold Steve Austin. He visibly dominates the match until he hears Bret Hart's music, and then goes into panic mode. And it furthers the characterization of Bret's hand-spun narrative as being rightfully pissed that he's being taken advantage of by the roster, screwed by the company, and booed by the fans. Fun bonus: this is also the only Rumble appearance of lucha legend Mil Mascaras, who was so full of old-school carny spirit he famously refused to let anyone else eliminate him, so he eliminated himself, pissed Vince off, and was not spoken of again on WWE TV until the 2012 Hall of Fame ceremony, where he was inducted by his huge prick nephew, Alberto del Rio. - Bret Hart vs. Stone Cold Steve Austin, WrestleMania 13 This match is considered legendary, and for good reason. The greatest technical wrestler in the company vs. the best brawler, months of build, the world's most iconic (and off-the-cuff) blade-job (so much so that the visual of Austin bleeding in the Sharpshooter going "DAAAHHHH!" became the cover for his first VHS) and the wrestling world's most exquisite double-turn. It's fun, it's thrilling, it feels at once timeless and modern. Fun fact: there's a fun version of this match you can watch with just Austin doing commentary over it, and it's entertaining as hell. A true classic, and one of the greatest 'Mania matches of all time. - Ken Shamrock vs. Vader, No Holds Barred match, In Your House: a Cold Day In Hell Vader, famously, while a big teddy bear and a for-all-accounts lovely guy outside of the ring, had a reputation of being a bit "snug" with other wrestlers. Meaning he hit a little too hard, had little self-control, and took liberties with people, especially rookies and younger guys. It's supposedly why Shawn Michaels didn't want to work a world title program with him from summer to fall of 1996, because he was "too rough." But what never occurred to Vader is that trying that with a guy who's had 2 matches but has almost 5 years of MMA experience might not be the smartest or most prudent idea. Shamrock gives Vader as much as Vader gives him in this match, and there are moments where you can tell the guys are going into business for themselves. There's a moment where Shamrock is clubbing Vader with punches, and you can hear Vader, as he's turtling up and putting his arms up to block, yell "SLOW DOWN!" and then he rolls out of the ring to catch a breather. Vader, by the end of this match, is bleeding through his mask, a product of a broken nose, which is why I assume he gives Shamrock the stiffest short-arm clothesline I've ever seen. It's brutal, it's stupid, it weaves in and out of the script SO many times like a drunk man trying to stand up straight on a canoe, and I'm fascinated by each and every instance. - Owen Hart vs. the British Bulldog, European Championship Tournament Finals, Monday Night Raw, March 3rd Somehow, a workrate classic is stuck on a rinky-dink episode of Raw from Berlin, Germany. Smith and Hart blended some of their acquired WWE-style of work with classic junior heavyweight wrestling, complete with intricate reversals and fast-paced offense that was unlike either man's designed ethos of the time. Hart's shift toward his underhanded instincts as the match wore on provided enough story to balance the beautiful grappling from two men with impressive resumes. You can feel that these two knew one another, grew up together, and most importantly, wrestled together. An honest-to-God sleeper hit, but everyone who knows this match calls it a classic. - Shawn Michaels vs. Stone Cold Steve Austin, King of the Ring It's a concept that would be beaten into the ground in short order: Tag Team Champions that hate each other's guts. John Cena, seriously, has only been tag champions with people he's feuding with. That's

not even a joke. Austin and Michaels won the belts out of mutual dislike for the Hart Foundation, and then were programmed together for a wild match at the King of the Ring, one without a winner. Early on, the two actually pieced together a tremendous wrestling match full of nifty counters (prior to Austin changing his style after August for obvious reasons), before it degenerated into chaos after both men assaulted referees in the heat of the moment. Granted, neither man could really lose this one, so the screwy finish did serve its purpose. Until that point, it's a different type of incredible Austin match. You're never so happy to see a double-DQ finish. - Owen Hart & the British Bulldog vs. Shawn Michaels & Stone Cold Steve Austin, Monday Night Raw, May 26th And now we have a match set! The previous 4 participants in a brilliant and brutal tag team match. The Tag Team championship switch marked Austin's first piece of recognized gold in WWE, in a match on free television no less. That's not to insult the match any, as it was a pay-per-view quality fracas that barely slowed down. It is a mere 14 minutes long WITH entrances, but it moves at a clip, and everyone has their working boots on. It was a harbinger of days to come for this new period in WWE's history, and the crowd ate it up.

- Taka Michinoku vs. the Great Sasuke, In Your House: Canadian Stampede What happened here? Just when you think WCW had the cruiserweights cornered, WWE pulls this shit...and then kind of ignores it for a few months. But not before importing two of Michinoku Pro's finest to have a TakeOver-length exhibition. At first, the crowd in Calgary wasn't sure what to make of the undersized performers, but it wouldn't take long to win them over. From Michinoku's hands-free springboard dive to Sasuke's beautiful Thunder Fire Powerbomb, the expansive crowd was positively hooked on the daredevils with each passing minute. Although Sasuke wouldn't be long for the company, and Michinoku's run as Light Heavyweight Champion faded as 1998 wore on, the display at Canadian Stampede was a wondrous experience. This wouldn't have looked out of place in a Chikara King of Trios tournament. - The Hart Foundation (Bret Hart, Owen Hart, Jim Neidhart, Brian Pillman, the British Bulldog) vs. Team Austin (Stone Cold Steve Austin, the Legion of Doom, Ken Shamrock and Goldust), In Your House: Canadian Stampede I would have put this match on the list for the entrances and the finish alone. The crowd is at fever static for the entire match, seriously at the level of Punk/Cena at MITB 2011. And even though the Harts are the heels, they're in Calgary, and they get rock-star level ovations for merely existing. Everyone plays it mad and delighted, and you can tell they're all having a ball. Especially Pillman, who is just magically unhinged, a template for a young Dean Ambrose during their feud with the Wyatt Family. It is a magical, unreal main event, one of the best B-ppv main events maybe of all time. Well...other than MAYBE... - Shawn Michaels vs. the Undertaker, Hell in a Cell, In Your House: Badd Blood The very first Hell in a Cell match may very well double as the greatest of its kind. What stands out to me (other than how the match ends) is just how GREAT Michaels' selling is. When he's running away, he's constantly looking around for an exit, like a scared rat. When he finally gets caught and struck, he sells almost to the level he did for Hogan at SummerSlam 2005. But while he was doing that to make Hogan's offense look stupid, he's doing it here to make Taker's offense and anger look legit, and it somehow WORKS. But as fabulous as the match and the psychology is, it somehow takes a backseat to the debut of the Undertaker's monstrous little brother Kane, finally confronting his older brother in perhaps the greatest character debut in WWE history. - Mankind vs. Kane, Survivor Series I dunno what it is about this match that does it for me. Mankind's emotional lead-up to the match, where he's sad that Uncle Paul (Bearer) left him. Maybe the fact that Kane sells like Michael Myers, not so much that he's in pain, but as if he's never been hit in the face with a steel chair, a DDT or a piledriver. Maybe it's because Mick takes more horrific bumps than he needs to to make sure Kane looks like a legit monster. Maybe it's the broken Virtua Boy lighting. But it's genuinely unlike any other Mankind, Kane or ANY match I've seen before or since. It's a perfect somehow sympathetic serial killer vs. bigger, scarier serial killer that feels nothing story in a wrestling match. I didn't even know you could DO that.

[gohyuck]

Love and War Act I - LDH

theater kid! hyuck with some enemies to lovers realness

word count: 3.2k

warnings: a lot of swearing and a lot of hatred, possible nsfw in future chapters

notes: in part based on this post

part of a series: yes, this is part 1

in which you really, really, really can’t stand lee donghyuck

Act I, Scene I: An Introduction of the Situation

You’ve never hated a musical more. 

In an effort to ‘generate student interest in the arts’, Neo Culture Tech’s very own Mr. Taeil Moon, head of the fine arts department at what can only be described as a STEM college preparatory school, had put word out that this year’s fall theater show would be an entirely student-produced musical. Whether it was to elevate NCT’s arts up to the level at which they’d have to get the same funding as the robotics team or whether it was to truly cultivate creativity, nobody was sure. Still, the play persisted. From the actual dialogue, to the songs and their composition, to the dances choreography, everything was to be a bona fide effort from students across the school, not just in the theater department. Before anyone could say anything, the band and orchestra students were forced to create and compose scores and songs while the choir kids had to write lyrics for their semester project. The dance team had to choreograph everything and the art students were told they’d be making the posters for the show.

All of this, of course, was to come after the actual play had been written by the students in the Theater IV: Theater Productions class. 

If only you’d stayed in Theater III. 

Regardless, every good story starts from the beginning. And at the start of this one, there was a group of 13 potential starring roles in the tragedy? Comedy? Romance? Of Mr. Moon’s Theater IV musical production.

The official Theater IV roster was - and is - as follows:

(Name) - (Nickname)

Julia Choi - (Lia)

Renjun Huang

Lucy Hwang - (Yeji)

Somi Jeon

Chaeryeong Lee

Donghyuck Lee - (Haechan)

Jeno Lee

Jaemin Na - (Nana)

Jisung Park

Joanne Shin - (Ryujin)

Hussey Shin - (Yuna)

Chenle Zhong

13 is a decent amount of people able to give input on a play - from characterization, to plot, to underlying themes, there’s a place for everyone. If all of you worked on it, it could’ve been done at the speed of light, with ample time for revision and practice. Playwrighting wouldn’t have been harrowing. In fact, the project seemed fun at the beginning, and it was something you were genuinely looking forward to. After all, you genuinely liked everyone in your class… or, at least, almost everyone. Still, with 11 other people besides you and him, you would have ample buffer for the brain damage you were sure he would inflict upon you simply due to proximity. 

You forgot entirely about Murphy’s Law.

Jeno, Renjun, Somi, and Chaeryeong were the first to opt out of writing the play, gently reminding Mr. Moon that they were tech theater students, and would much rather design and build the set. It didn’t take long after that for Jaemin, Ryujin, Jisung, and Yeji to choose choreographing with their dance teammates over being playwrights. Yuna was quick to state that she’d rather make the posters in her art classes, and both Lia and Chenle decided that writing lyrics in choir would take up enough of their time as it was. 

At the start there were 13. 

You were happy, looking forward to talking about settings with Somi and comedic effect necessities with Jaemin. You weren’t only in theater to act - you were in the program in order to satisfy your need to create. Creating an entire play from nothing made you more eager than anything.

That is, until 13 dwindled down to 2 with alarming speed. 

Act I, Scene II: The Devil Incarnate

“Her royal highness is finally here!” Donghyuck faux cheers as you walk into your English Literature class right before the bell rings. The smirk in his tone is not lost on you, though you do mentally revel in the fact that nobody laughs at his stupid declaration. His seat is to the right of yours, but that doesn’t keep him from angling away from the board just to prop his feet up onto your desk. You don’t grace him with a response, only rolling your eyes before shoving his sneaker-laden feet off your desk none too ceremoniously and dropping your backpack onto the floor beside you as you slide into your seat. 

“What,” He starts, evidently hellbent on annoying you at 8 in the morning. You don’t turn to look at him, though you can distinctly see his shit-eating grin out of the corner of your right eye. Donghyuck leans towards you, his face coming far too close to you for your own comfort. You hope he’ll get the hint from your silence and leave you alone, but he continues speaking, much to your chagrin. “No snarky response from our resident ice queen today? Is your tongue frozen solid, princess?”

“Call me princess one more time, and you won’t even have a tongue left,” You threaten, still facing forward in your adamant refusal to look Donghyuck Lee in the eyes. He lets out a short laugh and leans back, finally properly settling into his own seat, pleased at his success at pissing you off. Before either of you can try to insult the other again, Mr. Suh rushes into the room, his Staff ID askew around his neck and his glasses sliding down his nose. The door flies shut behind him, and you straighten your back. 

Class has officially started. 

“You were only three minutes late today, Johnny,” Beomgyu calls from the back as your teacher is getting himself settled, and you turn to see your classmate holding up his watch, mirth in his eyes. “It’s a new personal record.” 

As if cued, the rest of the class bursts into a round of applause, with Donghyuck whistling with his fingers beside you. Mr. Suh - better known simply as Johnny to his students, due to him being fresh out of his undergrad - can’t help but chuckle at your class’ antics, doing nothing but shaking his head and pushing his glasses up onto his face. 

“Alright, before I get called down to the front office again, let me fill out attendance,” Johnny says eventually, finally sitting down at his computer. While he starts calling out everyone’s names you rifle around in your backpack, searching for your copy of The Taming of the Shrew, the book you’re all currently reading in class. Though it has some… questionable moments and themes, you can’t help but love it - you daresay it’s your favorite required reading book yet. Just as you find it, Johnny says your name. 

“(Name),” He says, and you straighten yourself out, your copy of the Shakespearean play gripped firmly in your hand. “I’m h-” 

“She’s here. Didn’t you feel the frost when you came in?” Donghyuck beats you to it, and you finally whirl around to glare at him, raising the hand holding the book up high as if you’re about to beat him with it. 

“Donghyuck Lee, I fucking swear -”

“Alright, alright, alright,” Your teacher raises his voice, coming to stand between the two of your desks. “I’m going to ignore the swear word this time because Haechan’s being annoying -”

You lean back to meet Donghyuck’s eyes, sending him a smirk that directly contrasts his wince. 

“- But you know better than to let your emotions get the best of you on things like this.” Johnny finishes, his words now aimed at you. You sigh, lowering your book to rest on your desk and slouching back into your chair. 

“Now behave, you two, got it? Act like actual people for once.”

The snickers of your classmates behind you cause your face to go red, and your anger at Donghyuck flares up again alongside your urge to crawl into a hole and hibernate. Still, through a furrowed brow and clenched teeth, you nod your agreement.

“Yes, Johnny.” You say at the same time Donghyuck mutters a “Sorry, John.” Both of you slide down even further into your seats. 

Neither of you say anything to each other for the rest of class, though you make sure to send scathing glances his way whenever your eyes seem to meet. To his merit, he manages to flip you off effortlessly every time Johnny turns towards the board. By the time class ends and you’re packing up, the two of you are seething silently, anger emanating off of your persons. Donghyuck jostles you on purpose on your way out of the room, but before you can give him a piece of your mind out of Johnny’s earshot, he’s halfway down the hallway on the way to his next class. Still, you train all your angry thoughts in his general direction, praying he’ll trip and fall flat on his face, or something.

Jeno, who’s just walked out of the classroom next to yours, makes his way to fall into step beside you as he always does. He follows your red hot gaze towards Donghyuck, who’s currently leaning against a locker and talking to Renjun. 

“You shouldn’t let him bother you so much,” Jeno finally says, and you roll your eyes before looking up at your friend. “It gives you too much grief.”

“He shouldn’t be bothering me so much.” You counter, and a small smile crosses Jeno’s face as he shakes his head in both amusement and disbelief. 

“I guess you aren’t wrong.” He acquiesces as he pulls open the door to the chemistry classroom, letting you walk in before him. The two of you share a lab table and you pull his stool out along with your own as you orient yourself.  

“I still can’t believe you and him are friends,” You tell Jeno as he sits down beside you. “You’re so you and he’s so… him.”

“We have, like, 90% of our interests in common, (Name),” Jeno laughs, knocking your shoulder with him. “If the two of you stopped going at each others’ throats for even a moment, you might even learn to like each other.”

You can’t help the fake gagging noise you make at the suggestion, and your friend rolls his eyes at you, though not before laughing. As the rest of your classmates start filtering into the room, the two of you switch smoothly to another topic of conversation - “Can you believe Moon’s making us do all of the play stuff this year?” “I don’t know, Jeno, it seems kind of cool to me.” “I mean me too, but damn… imagine the hours I’ll be putting into set design this year.”-  all thoughts of the devil himself banished from your mind. 

Act I, Scene III: Murphy’s Law 

You’re almost at the door, deep in conversation with Hyunjin about a protest she’s planning when Mr. Jung calls your name, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Yes?” You ask after motioning for Hyunjin to go on to lunch without you. You haven’t done anything wrong that you can think of - not recently, you note, remembering the time you really had almost set Jeno on fire - so you can’t help but be confused about why he needs to talk to you. Before you can ask, your teacher holds out a slip of paper for you to take.

“The note Jaemin delivered earlier is for you. He said it isn’t urgent, so I figured I’d send you during lunch instead of during class.” 

You relax your shoulders almost instantly before taking the bright orange piece of cardstock from Mr. Jung’s grip. You head out of his room - though not before thanking him - and unfold the note immediately after walking into the hallway. 

Please come see me at your convenience! - Moon :)

♕ ♕ ♕

You get to the black box room before Mr. Moon does, causing you to lament not buying your lunch before coming to meet him. As you wait, you pull out your book, determined to at least do something with your time at the moment. Katherine and Petruchio are in the midst of hurling insults at each other when the sound of footsteps startles you out of your book, and you lay it down beside you just in time for Donghyuck to walk in and drop his backpack onto the floor by the door, his eyes trained on the phone in his hand. 

Wait.

Donghyuck?

“What the hell are you doing here?” Your tone is biting at best. He looks up from his screen in surprise, though his expression quickly morphs into one of clear disdain once he sees that it’s you who’s speaking. 

“Got a message from Moonie. What the fuck are you doing here?”

You hold up your orange slip, only just noticing the identical one hanging between two of his fingers. His eyes dart down to his own again before back up at you, seemingly still waiting for a response. 

“Same here.” You respond, and he sneers at you. Donghyuck looks like he’s about to say something - likely hurl an insult that’s completely unrelated to the situation - but, with spectacular timing, Mr. Moon walks in through the door, a large soda in one hand and a fast food bag in the other. Donghyuck finally sits down, his backpack still by the door. 

Your theatre director places his food on the desk in the corner of the room before leaning against it, placing his hands against the edge of the table for balance. He surveys the two of you, both of you on different sides of the room, for a moment.

“I guess you’re wondering why I’ve called you here,” Moon finally says, his words directed at you both. You nod while Donghyuck says a quiet “Yep.”, neither of you looking at one another. Moon nods himself before pushing himself off of his desk, reaching over to grab ahold of his rolling chair. 

“Come,” He looks at both of you, nodding towards the center of the room. “Bring your chairs in.”

You stare at your director for a moment before sighing, careful not to let Mr. Moon see you rolling your eyes. Reluctantly, you stand up, grabbing your chair and moving to sit in front of him. Donghyuck follows suit, managing to put as much distance as humanly possible between you while staying close enough that Mr. Moon won’t reprimand him. 

“You both know how your Theatre IV class is meant to be the ones writing the musical itself, right?” 

The two of you nod, and you can’t help but wonder what direction Moon might be going in. There’s thirteen people in your class - why is it just you two he’s called in?

“Out of everyone in the class, you two are the only ones that aren’t either tech theatre students or double dipping when it comes to fine arts.” Your director continues, his words coming out slower than usual. It almost feels as if he’s trying to force the two of you towards the conclusion rather than telling you what he means to himself. Still, you know your expression is one of confusion. Mr. Moon winces almost imperceptibly before sighing and leaning back, rolling back-and-forth ever so slightly with his chair. 

“When it comes to this year’s musical, students can only work with one of the departments, because having anyone work on two parts of it would be way too much work,” He finally says, leaning towards you and Donghyuck again. Silence falls over you as you furrow your brow, trying to figure out what Mr. Moon might mean. 

It hits both you and Donghyuck at the same time. 

“There’s no way I’m working with just him -”

“Moonie, c’mon, do you really hate me this much -”

“Stop.” Moon says, his voice rising easily in volume. He puts both of his hands up in emphasis, and you realize you’ve leaned further forward than you’d realize. You settle back into your seat, though not without returning the scowl Donghyuck is sending you. 

“If I didn’t think the two of you could do it together, I would’ve just written the damn thing myself,” Your director says, glancing sharply at both of you before continuing. “You’re my two best students - you both know this. I’ve seen you put your differences aside to act together on stage. This shouldn’t be any different than that.”

You stare at Mr. Moon for a long moment, weighing your options. You can say no, you know you can - though he’ll advise strongly against it, Moon will ultimately let you back out of the musical’s production if you ask - but your ego refuses to let you. That, and you’d been genuinely excited to work on it before, and you’d rather die than let Donghyuck, of all people, take something you care about from you. That, and you don’t trust him to write a good play worth performing. You’ll be damned if the fine arts department has to count on him in the end. Hell, you’ll write it by yourself if you have to.

“Fine,” You say, raising a hand up to rub your temples out. “But I’ll only play nice if he does, too.”

“You act like I’m the one who finds it difficult to interact normally with other people.” Donghyuck scoffs, and you shoot him a sharp glare. He returns it evenly for a beat too long before finally tearing his eyes away and hanging his head. You watch as he runs a hand through his hair and throws his head back, groaning loudly as he does so, almost as if it pains him to say his next words. When he finally looks forward at Moon again, he sighs before speaking.

“I’m in,” He declares, throwing you an unreadable look. “Let’s get this over with.”

Moon’s face lights up immediately, and, for a moment, you don’t regret what you’ve just agreed to.

“Brilliant!” He claps, standing up from his chair. “We can discuss it together as a group during our next class, but I’m glad we have this sorted out. Now,” He says, moving his chair back over to his desk before settling back down in it. “I have to eat lunch, and I’m guessing you both do too. Scram.”

You get up, placing your chair back from where you got it before gathering your things. Donghyuck avoids looking at you, and you return the courtesy. He gets to the door right before you do, stooping down to pick up his back. Both of you wave goodbye to your director before stepping out into the hallway. 

“When should we meet to talk about the planning and shit?” You ask, keeping your tone as steady as possible, though you know your eyes tell your feelings. Donghyuck rolls his eyes outright. 

“How about we figure that out in class? I’ve talked to you enough for the time being.”

You make a sound of disbelief, flipping him off as he turns to walk away from you. 

“You’re a grade A dickwad!” You call, staring at his back. 

“Whatever, you frigid bitch!” He yells back, not bothering to turn around and look at you. 

You sigh once he’s out of sight, dropping your head into one of your hands.

This is going to be a lot harder than Mr. Moon thinks it’ll be.