#If anyone wants me to tag this with a volume or loud warning feel free to ask!

[jawabear]

Hi could you make a oneshot based of this?

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMYR4myRA/

It could be literally porn without plot König x reader of course

Like an Animal

König x reader

Not my GIF

A/N: okay. this is my first time writing for König. i hope i got his character right? i'm not entirely familiar with his character. But i hope you enjoy it! this is basically just smut all the way. beginning to end. filth.

Genre: smut, fluff

Warnings: AFAB!Reader, rough sex, unprotected sex, fingering, almost getting caught, fingers as a gag, gloves, come eating, oral (fem.receiving), Google translate used, name calling, clothes sex.

Summary: Having the mountain of a man, also know as König, towering over you was a situation that never got old...

tagging: @softpedropascal (the könig master, thanks for the help love!)

Having the mountain of a man, also know as König, towering over you was a situation that never got old. Never lost its sense of heat. It still turned you on no matter how many times he did it. 

He hadn’t bothered to turn in the lights to his room so when you arrived at the scheduled time, you walked into a black space. You weren’t entirely sure he was in there until you felt two strong hands wrap around your waist and shove you up against the nearest wall. The only light was the fire in his dark eyes, his sniper hood had been lifted up but still ghosted over his forehead. 

He pressed his forearm above your head and leaned his weight into it. He seemed so casual whilst making you skin burn and your pussy soaking wet. 

“König..” you tried but he ground his hips into you, you could feel his bulge press against your pelvis and it shut you up immediately. 

“Never said you could talk, kleine maus” he purred. He slithered against your like a snake as his lips found that sweet spot on you neck. You couldn’t say your were surprised he could find it in the dark. He knew your body better than anyone. Your neck was his area of expertise. 

König sucked and bit at your skin as you squirmed against him. The movement nothing but a brush against his hulking figure. 

“Loved watching you out in the field, kleine maus. So sexy. Would’ve fucked you in the middle of it all. Your little ass looks so good in these pants” with his free hand, he grabbed your ass. A firm, large handful of flesh. So easily fitting in the palm of his huge hand. 

“You could’ve” you whispered to him. He growled and slapped your ass making your squeak. 

“böse Maus” (naughty mouse) he drew in a deep breath of you “you’re making me crazy. Keep talking like that and I won’t hold back” 

“M-Maybe I don’t want you too…” he moved his hand round from your ass and cupped your pussy. “König!”

He slammed his lips to yours “not so loud” he muttered, his tongue sliding in and out of your mouth with such a mind numbing rhythm. “There’s still people here” 

You nodded and allowed him to use your mouth how he wanted. His tongue explored the familiar territory, almost checking no one else had taken what was his. They hadn’t, no one would ever. 

König slid his hand to your zipper and unzipped it. You pressed your legs together instinctively but he grunted and shoved your legs apart with his knee. “Stay there” he ordered you. You whimpered and shivered at the darkness of his voice. His fingertips skimmed over your panties and he chuckled “lace?”

“Your favourite” he chuckled again and shoved his tongue as deep as he could into your throat. He hummed a yes and dipped his hand into your panties and brushed against your folds. “König” you whined. Your fists clenching on the wall he still held you against. 

König didn’t answer. Not with words at least. But his fingers spoke volumes as he dipped them between your folds, lapping up the juices there. He hummed in approval at your wetness. You moaned his name and he sunk his fingers inside your tight hole, your near scream being swallowed by him. He wouldn’t pull his mouth away from you now. Not until he was ready to fuck you or eat your pussy. 

He was obsessed with your mouth. In every way. He loved to make out with you. And he loved when you sucked on his tongue or let him lick anywhere he could reach with it. 

“so nass” he purred. Your eyes rolled back at his voice. God he was so sexy. “also perfekt für mich” (so perfect for me). 

“König please…want to come” you moaned. Your fingers dug into his arm as he fingered you. Only now realising that he still had his gloved on. He was finger fucking you with his gloves. “Oh fuck..” 

“Such a whore” he mumbled. He pushed his fingers deeper inside you, brushing over the spongy spot that had your knees quaking. “meine verdammte hure” (my fucking whore). 

Bang Bang Bang.

The three thunderous knocks on the door made you push your legs together. Well, against his knee. Your eyes shot up and met the fire in his. He hadn’t stopped. His fingers�� still pumping and his tongue still licking. You could feel him smirking. 

“König” it was Soap. Leave it to him to ruin a moment, “you seen (C/S)? We need to brief her for the mission tomorrow” 

He could’ve said no, or yes depending on how he was feeling. But he didn’t. König was feeling cheeky. And risky. He pulled himself away and pulled out his fingers. “Stay quiet” he whispered in your ear before shoving his wet fingers into your mouth. 

He pulled down his hood and opened the door. The light from the hallway illuminating the flame in his eyes all the more. “No I haven’t” he answered soap, slowly thrusting his fingers in and out of your mouth. His gloves feeling rough on your tongue. “Perhaps she’s with the Mexican. Or maybe she’s getting food” he shrugged. 

“Right” Soap nodded “why are you living in the dark?” 

“Matches the job” König said nothing more and shut the door. He didn’t even wait to hear if Soap left before returning to what he was doing. His fingers back in your pussy and his tongue back in your mouth. “Good girl” he purred. “Staying so quiet. What would’ve happened if he heard you, huh?” 

Your hole fluttered around his fingers at the thought of the Scot seeing you like that. With König’s fingers in your mouth, pants open and legs shaking. 

“schmutzige hure” (dirty whore). He slapped his palm against your clit and pumped harder and faster into you. He pulled his tongue from your mouth “you want that? You want to have someone watch as I wreck you?” 

It took every ounce of your being to not say yes. Maybe it was the heat of the moment or maybe it was so deep dark fantasy. But the thought of someone being there watching as König absolutely railed you stupid got your head spinning. 

He muttered something in German before peeling you off the wall and tossing you to the bed. He tugged off your boots and yanked down your combat pants and underwear and threw them all to the side with a thud. He shoved your legs apart and flicked up his hood. He leaned over and turned on the bedside lamp. It was dim and orange but relegated perfectly off his skin. 

“There she is” he smirked. You knew he wasn’t talking to you. But to your pussy. It was barely a moment after he had spoken until he shoved his face between your legs. Drinking, eating, licking at your pussy like he never had before. 

Your back immediately lifting off the bed and griping and grabbing at the sheets. “König!” You screamed as he sucked at your throbbing clit. You didn’t care if anyone was outside. If Soap was still outside. He didn’t care either. Not by the way he laughed against you. You started to wonder if maybe he wanted someone in there watching. 

“That’s it. That’s it” he said. “Getting you ready for my cock. Need to have you ready to take it”  

“I am!” You yell “I’m ready! Please König! Please fuck me!” 

He growled again. Something in German again. He got to his knees and your struggled to open your eyes to look up at him. The fire an inferno in his grey eyes. You watched as he carefully unzipped his own combat pants and fished out his long, hard cock. You swallowed thickly as you watched him pump it. Once. Twice. Then just once more before lining it up with your pulsing hole. 

He laid his hand on your pelvis, his thumb rubbing over your clit as he pushed himself into you. “Scheiße” he spat, his head thrown back. He buried himself to the hilt. “Still so tight. But feels so good” 

“Please König. I don’t want to wait anymore!” 

“Needy little thing, you are” he caged your head with his forearms as he leaned over you and began to thrust his cock into you. He always started with a steady pace. His length effortlessly stroking over every sweet spot in your pussy. The protruding vein rubbing deliciously over your walls. 

The room now being filled with pants and moans from you both, and squelching sounds from your soaked pussy. Your noises were nothing short of pornographic. Both of you. König was just as loud as you were. Moaning your name and German swears. His mouth hanging open and eyes in the back of his head. He was lost in the pleasure and that only made him go harder. 

König was desperate to reach his end. Desperate to come. Desperate for you to come. He wanted to feel your tight pussy strangle his cock. Squeeze out every last drop of come into you. He wanted you to be his cumdump. He wanted to watch his come ooze out of your still spasming pussy. He wanted to eat his own come out of your pussy. 

Oh god. Just the thoughts of that had you shaking. Had you coming. Coming on his cock. He groaned, growled, damn near barked into your ear when you clenched around him. Chanting ‘yes’ in your ear over and over and over. Drilling himself into you. Your body twitching from the overstimulation now taking over you. 

But he kept on going. Kept on pounding into you. Ignoring how you screamed. Ignoring the way you thrashed underneath him. The pleasure becoming too much. But still so good. 

“Fuck! Yes! Yes! Coming! Coming!” He almost howled into the room. 

You could feel it. 

The long, thick stings of burning hot come shooting into you. The sensation had you coming a second time. König trembled. A new tightness around him. Tighter than he had felt before. He cried out your name and continued to drive himself into you. 

He slammed his lips to yours. His tongue finding it’s way back down your throat. He swallowed all of your noises. Swallowed them and matched them. 

Eventually, he began to slow his hips. Carefully pulling out of you with a heavy breath. “Scheiße. Das ist es” (fuck. That’s it) he praised. His hand stroking down your hair. “gutes Mädchen” (good girl). 

You sucked your lips behind your teeth and slipped a hand between you. You could feel his come leaking out of you. You gather some on your fingers and brought them back up to your faces. 

He looked at your fingers. His eyes blown black. He licked his lips and ducked your fingers into his mouth. He moaned and his eyes fluttered shut. “das ist es”(that’s it) you whispered in your best German you could muster in your fucked out state. 

König shivered. It always fucked with his head when your spoke in his mother tongue. Especially during and after sex. 

Once he had sucked your fingers clean of his come, you pulled them from his mouth. “Good boy” he collapsed onto you and let out another heavy breath. 

You pulled off his helmet and hood and began stroking though his hair. “ich liebe dich” he sighed. 

“I love you too” 

You both fell into a peaceful silence. That silence including pants, whispers and giggles. 

“Do you think he’s still out there?” He asked quietly as he shifted a little. 

“You’d like that wouldn’t you” you laughed. 

There was a beat of silence before he spoke again “maybe…” 

27/1/23

[dontyoufeelitangel]

BUILD ME UP

Echo - The Bad Batch x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: A psychology lesson from the medic of the batch turns into a personal experiment. How will Echo react to being your subject?

Tags/Warnings: SFW, mentions of animal testing (nothing graphic), established relationships, kissing, fluff, (I accidentally made Wreck really dumb in the first half, so we’re just going to pretend that’s because he’s tipsy. Sorry wreck!)

Prompt : “Why do you build me up, buttercup baby, just to let me down? - I need you, more than anyone darling. You know that I have from the start. So build me up, buttercup, don’t break my heart.”

A/N: this prompt comes from the bad batch playlist I put together from the song “Build Me Up Buttercup - The Foundations”. This is not a song fic, feel free to check out the playlist! Also, yes the timeline and character appearances in this chapter are messed up and do not follow the original show, shhh it’s fine, we’re gonna ignore it🤫

.

.

.

You joined the batch as their medic right before the rise of the empire and stuck with them through order 66. While you never officially finished your medic schooling, you were qualified. More than qualified actually. You had saved the boys butts on multiple occasions, and when it came to the mental weight of what they’ve been through, you always knew just what to say.

Over time you naturally became great friends with the boys. Each of them were so unique and they had so much personality. They became your home away from home. You seemed to be closer with one more than the others. Echo. He was -biologically- the reg of the group, but his experience and individuality made him as unique as the rest of the batch. It was also what made you fall for him.

Naturally, the two of you became a thing, nothing official but it was very clear the both of you loved each other.

So here you sat, the dim lights of Cid’s parlor reflecting on your glass. Wrecker and Tech were in a game of sabacc. You sat close, shadowing over Techs shoulder watching him play his hand. Light conversation had started between the three of you. The conversation started with the rules of the game and slowly melted into you talking about your unfinished schooling.

“Well I don’t know if I should trust you on the field anymore doc!” Wrecker snorted. The contagiousness of his laughter put a small smile on your face. You were now grinning at him from behind Tech’s shoulder.

“Trust whatever you want big guy, just don’t expect me to save your ass on the field next time” your words laced with playful sarcasm as you sipped on your drink.

“And hey! What’s stopping me from walking over there and giving away your cards to tech!?” A sound between a laugh and a scoff erupted from you as you set your drink down.

Tech only smiled and watched the interaction before speaking up.

“She’s more qualified than you” Tech nodded, putting a card down. His affirmation drew a smile from your lips.

“See! I love to see the support,” you waved your arms at tech before giving him a friendly pat on Tech’s shoulder.

“And it’s not even just about what I can do on the field- I’m knowledgeable in psychology and chemistry too,” you chest puffed in proudness. Wrecker only gave a playful huff,

“You were educated in psychology?” Tech inquired.

“You’re surprised? It IS a requirement for medic schooling” you adjusted your stool slightly to be in the middle of the two boys rather than behind tech.

“Not necessarily surprised, I’m very aware of your capability. It’s just that -as a clone- I personally didn’t take many psychology classes. My studies were more directed towards computer sciences and database management. Then again, I wasn’t taught to specifically specialize in the medical field.” Tech spoke, you only nodded,

“So what you’re saying is, doc is a smarty” the loudness of Wreckers voice could almost throw you off guard, luckily you’ve spent enough time around him to be used to his volume.

You smiled at the statement,

“Of course” you smiled,

“How about a lesson?” You tilted your head toward Wrecker.

“I’m interested” a short response, but very much expected from tech.

You thought about what piece of information you could tell them. Searching your brain for a piece of knowledge the two of them didn’t know.

“A quick lesson on the tooka-bell experiment” you said,

The boys continued playing while you spoke, still listening to what you were saying. Acknowledging your voice by giving short nods,

“The tooka bell experiment was a conditioning experiment in tookas. About how a bell could get a natural reaction out of a tooka.” You started,

“When a tooka is fed, they salivate-“

“Like slobbering!” Wrecker interrupted.

“Yes,” you smiled,

“Like slobbering” you nodded before continuing to your lesson.

“A scientist would ring a bell every time he fed the experimental tooka. The tooka began associating the bell with receiving food. One day, the scientist accidentally rang the bell without having any tooka food prepared. The tooka began to salivate thinking it was going to be fed.” You finished.

“Ah, I get it. It’s a simple process of contidioning a neutral stimulus to get a response” tech nodded grabbing some cards from a deck that was set out on the table.

“Precisely” you have a curt nod, finishing off your drink.

“Uhhh, I don’t think I get it” Wrecker shook his head.

“It’s unconscious learning through repetition. For example: you and omega get mantell mix after every mission. Mantell mix and the end of a mission are two completely unrelated things. But because it’s become a tradition for you and little Omega, it would feel weird not to get the mantel mix at the end of a mission. Does that help big guy?” you gave him a glance followed along with a smile.

“I guess…” he slowly nodded.

The game of sabacc slowly wrapped up. It was quite late, there was a mission tomorrow and everyone had to get a good nights rest.

The cards were neatly put away and the drinks were discarded as the glasses were set to be cleaned.

You said you goodnights to Tech as you turned to say goodbye to Wrecker”

“Hopefully you ain’t doin’ that to us.” He let out a chuckle,

“Doing what?” Your head tilted.

“Training us subconsciously or whatever, I mean, the only dud who’d fall for it is Echo” this time he gave out a real laugh, one straight from his stomach. He ruffled you hair before walking off.

He was right though, Echo would totally fall for it.

Training was a strong word, but hopefully Echo wouldn’t mind. You had a strong plan made up, you grinned to yourself before walking to your own sleeping quarters.

.

The next day was mission day, something about extracting some goo from rocks or something. You really didn’t remember- or care.

Today also marked the day of your experiment.

You found yourself sitting in the front of the marauder, preparing to go into light speed.

“Hey Echo,” your voice soft and sweet, he was unsuspecting.

He let out a small ‘hmm?’ Before looking at you,

“Could I get a kiss before light speed?” You batted your lashes at him, you leaned your weight on the armrest, pushing yourself toward him.

“Of course” he smiled before kissing you.

The kiss was sweet and soft, much like echo himself. Although it didn’t last long, it was romantic and all that you needed in a kiss.

You smiled at him through your lashes before sitting back in your seat properly and jumping to hyper space.

.

The mission went fine, almost like any other. During the mission Echo had told you he ‘wouldn’t mind getting more kisses from you.’

It’s almost like he could read your mind, because for the next five missions you’d always find him right before hyper space and give him a kiss.

You started off by tapping his shoulder and politely asking for one, to just leaning over to him and giving him the kiss.

He never once missed a kiss, who was he to deny your request?

In fact, he must’ve gotten so used to it. For the next handful of missions or marauder trips, he would initiate the kiss right before hyper space.

That was your plan, because after around ten hyper space jumps, giving you a kiss before hand seemed to come natural to him. You had him right where you wanted it.

.

One afternoon before the batch and you were set to return back to ord mantell, you had called Tech and Wrecker to talk to them in the marauder.

“What is it that you required?” Tech asked, setting down his datapad.

“You boys remember the conversation we had a few months ago? About conditioning?” You spoke, mostly directing your question towards Wrecker.

Tech only have a curt nod and Wrecker grumbled something about ‘totally understanding what you were talking about’.

You gave a smile,

“Right, well, You told me Echo would fall for it, yeah?” You nodded your head, smiling while gesturing to Wrecker.

“I guess I did say that,” wrecker rubbed the back of his head, not fully remembering the previous conversation the three of you had.

Tech, who finally started to understand where this conversation was growing shook his head before speaking,

“You didn’t” he said,

“Oh I did,” you were now grinning ear to ear,

“Before we go into light speed, watch what echo does” you laughed, before walking over to the cockpit of the marauder.

.

You were now buckled into your seat, Tech and Wrecker looking into the cockpit for the interaction about to go down.

“Preparing the jump to hyperspace” you announced, putting your attention to some buttons and levers on the control panel.

You were purposely putting your attention away from echo,

As if on queue, echo pointed his head towards you, his eyes still focused on whatever he had had in his hands.

His lips puckered and ready for a kiss,

He sat like that for about five seconds -which doesn’t seem like a long time, but when you’re sitting there, full duck lips, it feels like an eternity-.

You saw his actions from the corner of your eye, still focused on the control panel. You gave a sly smile, attempting to hold in your own giggles.

Echo blinked a few times before realizing you didn’t kiss him, and you weren’t going to.

Heat rushed to his face as he leaned back into his chair,

Maker he must’ve looked so stupid -not to mention desperate- just sitting there with his lips puckered expecting a kiss from you.

He looked around in embarrassment to make sure nobody was watching, upon looking behind him he found two heads peaking into the cockpit.

Tech must’ve only found this slightly amusing because he only gave a smile,

Wrecker on the other hand, burst out into laughter. The sound of Wreckers laughter had let you know the bit was over, you too started laughing.

Echo was unamused and embarrassed. His cheeks were slightly flushed and his face flat, he didn’t find it funny. Your laughter and giggles made him realize that this was your plan all along,

Your giggles died down before you gave him a light pat on the cheek before jumping into hyperspace.

[botanikos]

𝐅𝐮𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐧

The Basics

Name: Jude. Age: 30yrs. Pronouns: They/Them. Timezone: EST, USA. Catchphrase / something you frequently say: I hate it here. & Eat my feathers. Night or Day: I prefer nights most of the time, but it depends! Favorite Element: Water!

Four Quotes From Four Books To Better Understand Me

☆ "Other people would call him sensitive, but it is more than that. The dial is broken, the volume turned all the way up. Moments of joy registered as brief, but ecstatic. Moments of pain stretched long and unbearably loud." — THE INVISIBLE LIFE OF ADDIE LARUE, by V.E. Schwab.

☆ "I promise to live, richly and shamelessly and with arms wide open to the world." — A DOWRY OF BLOOD, by S.T. Gibson. [ bonus: I have this tattooed on me with part of the cover design; permission was granted by both artist and author ]

☆ "Oh, I will be cruel to you, Marya Morevna. It will stop your breath, how cruel I can be. But you understand, don't you? You are clever enough. I am a demanding creature. I am selfish and cruel and extremely unreasonable. But I am your servant. When you starve I will feed you; when you are sick I will tend you. I crawl at your feet; for before your love, your kisses, I am debased. For you alone I will be weak." — DEATHLESS, by Catherynne M. Valente.

☆ "Nikolai had been told that hope was dangerous, had been warned of it many times. But he'd never believed that. Hope was the wind that came from nowhere to fill your sails and carry you home." KING OF SCARS, by Leigh Bardugo.

Things To Associate Me With

Books / miniature snow globes / rocks / indoor plants / enamel pins / hoodies / vintage boxes or chests / candlesticks / horror movies / unfinished projects / sunflowers / ocean sunrises / bookstores / thunderstorms / ballpoint pens / scarves / the moon / coffeeshops

Foods To Associate Me With

Scones / fresh fruits / brioche bread / chocolate chip cookies / cucumbers / sfogliatelle / papanași / cream cheese stuffed pretzels / asiago bagels / French toast / Greek yogurt / rice

Four Shows I Can't Get Enough Of

Midnight Mass / Castlevania / Killing Eve / Arcane

Four Songs I Currently Have On Repeat

☆ King of Disappointment, by Echos ☆ Tell It To My Heart, by MEDUZA & Hozier ☆ Boom, by X Ambassadors ☆ Savage, by Bahari

Tagged by: I made this up! Tagging: @gynaiko / @aroyaltailor / @a-hell-of-a-time / @themosthatedbeingg / @contractfee / @umbravirtus / @hellishvxbes / @cyberneticlagomorph / & anyone else who sees this and wants to do it! Feel free to tag me c:

[pics-that-make-you-goku]

is it really true that mexico love dragon ball? I know about that 1 restaurant but not much else tbh

The short answer is Yes! Very much so!

The long answer is this,

[Volume/Loud warning!]

For context, this was very shortly after the episode had premiered!

[bucksfucks]

messing with a gemini | chris evans

gif credit.

SUMMARY || chris is a gemini, so you should expect nothing less than snide remarks, witty charm, and mind-blowing sex.

PAIRING || chris evans x reader

WORD COUNT || 1,902 words

WARNINGS || banter, teasing, cocky!chris, definite praise kink, light choking kink, chris goes down on the reader, fingering, oral, drinking, unprotected sex, both smutty, soft, and teasing — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI

NOTES || mmmmgmmgmgmgmgmg yeah

     The sound of the door shutting can only mean one thing.

   ��“Look what the cat dragged in,” you greet him, not turning around to face him.

    “Sweetheart if you don’t learn to shut that pretty little mouth of yours, I’ll do it for you.”

    Another snide remark, another sly smirk, and another roll of your eyes as Chris slides past you with a cup of tea in his hands.

    “You couldn’t make me if you tried.” You spat back, narrowing your eyes at him as you watched him quirk an eyebrow; intrigued at your comment.

    “Is that a challenge? Because you know I never back down from you.” He replies cooly, folding his arms over his chest before taking a sip of his hot drink.

    “Ah yes, how could I forget,” you feign enthusiasm, “you’re a Gemini.” You deadpan and now it’s his turn to roll his eyes.

    He kicks his foot off the wall behind him, “you didn’t answer my question, sweetheart.” He winks, brushing past your shoulder as you scoff.

    He’s gonna out of your sight before you have the chance to say anything else, letting out an exasperated sigh as you will yourself to calm down.

    “Hey!” Someone shouts through the trailer door, “can you run down to makeup for backup?” You don’t get to answer.

    “Thanks!”

    Before whoever it was slammed the door shut and you let out another frustrated groan.

    You knew what you signed up for, you weren’t head of makeup. You weren’t even assistant head. No, you were one of the nobodies.

    Someone they hire to run from one end of set to the other only to get yelled at for not having enough brushes or the right shade of a palette.

    It was almost poetic.

    “Hey, I’m here, what did you guys need?” You ask as you put on a fake smile and enter the makeup trailer.

    The trailer where Chris is sat getting his hair done.

    Your blood boiled, wasn’t he supposed to be a charmer? A sweetheart? Maybe he was just really getting into character?

    “Can you sweep the floor and make sure there’s no more hair?”

    You had to physically fight the urge to drop your face, “sure!”

    You grabbed the broom, feeling embarrassed as you quietly sunk into the background as you felt Chris’ eyes on you.

    A few medial, mind numbing tasks later and it was closing in on 2am. Your notification-less phone screen lit up the empty trailer you were left to clean up.

    Not that you really minded.

    You find solace in the only time of the day where things seem to slow down. You also didn’t hate being alone where you could listen to music and clean hairbrushes.

    “So this is what you do after we cut.” The sound of Chris’ laugh startles you as you let out a soft yelp.

    He has a soft smile on his face, almost unrecognizable without his beard.

    “I thought I was alone,” you reply meekly, turning the volume lower on your phone as Chris shook his head.

    “Oh, I know,” he laughs, “I don’t think anyone would be belting out Queen like that if they didn’t think they were alone.”

    Once again, you feel embarrassed in front of him, shaking your head.

    “Whatever,” you try to brush it off. “Did you need something?” You ask as he shakes his head.

    “I was just checkin’ in on you.” He replies and you’re a little taken aback.

    “Oh, well thanks, but I’m okay. Just finishing up cleaning.” You said with a tight lipped smile and a nod of your head.

    Chris stands there for a second, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks over his shoulder before clearing his throat.

    “Well uh, some of the cast and crew are havin’ some drinks and pizza later, if you wanted to tag along.”

    The invite makes your stomach drop into your lower belly as you open your mouth.

    You have to take a moment to formulate the words.

    “It’s getting pretty late, I think I’m just gonna head back to my hotel room. Parties aren’t really my thing.” You joke, lightening the mood as Chris cracks a smile.

    “Sure thing, sweetheart. The invites always there,” he says before turning on his heels and leaving you to yourself.

    Chris Evans was an enigma that you didn’t think you’d ever crack.

~

    The soft knock at your door caused your neck to snap in its direction, uncrossing your legs as you slid off the too big hotel bed and looked through the peep hole.

    It was hard to make out the figure, but it looked like...no, it couldn’t be.

    “Chris?” His name slipped through your lips as you opened the door.

    He beamed a smile as he held up a case of beer and box of pizza.

    “Turns out, parties aren’t my thing either.”

    You couldn’t help but chuckle as you moved aside to let him in.

    “And you decided that coming to my room at,” you had to check the time, “3:16 in the morning was the logical thing to do?”

    He set everything down on the coffee table before hopping onto your bed, “yup.”

    You had to roll your eyes as you laughed, closing and locking the door as you stepped in front of him.

    “C’mon kid,” oh, why did that do something to you?

    “You work hard every day of the week, you deserve one night to not care about anything.” His words were gentle as he stood up to grab a beer.

    “Want one?” He asked, holding a beer up as you replayed his words.

    “Sure,” he was right, you do deserve a break.

    You both took a seat on the small, uncomfortable couch in the room as you took a sip. Well, it was beer.

    “So,” you broke the silence, “the Chris Evans doesn’t like parties?” You quirked an amused eyebrow as he laughed.

    “Maybe I wanted to escape to see you, is that so bad?” He said, licking his bottom lip; not breaking eye contact.

    You shook your head, “such a fucking Gemini,” you mumble as Chris smirks.

    “What did I say about that smart mouth of yours?” He eggs you on, leaning forward and giving your knee a squeeze.

    “I don’t remember.” You bite back, feeling your heart kicking in your chest as you feel his breath fanning over your face.

    “Maybe I should teach you a lesson or two then, hmm?” He purrs, running his free hand up your neck and resting it there.

    “I dare you,” you mumble, transfixed on the feeling of his warm hands on you.

    The dominos fall and Chris’ lips are meshed with yours, the faint taste of beer on them as you wrap your fingers in the collar of his shirt.

    “You know I never back down from a challenge,” he murmurs against your lips before taking you by the hand and leading you to the bed.

    He pushes you onto it, the sheets around you as the weight of Chris’ body pushed you further into it.

    “Ah ah,” he tsks when you let out a soft moan, “I thought I told you to keep quiet for me.”

    You swallow thickly, throat dry and lips parted as you gasp when you can feel the weight of him between your hips.

    “Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Can you be a good girl?” He purrs, absolutely knowing what it does to you as you writhe under him. 

    “Good,” he hums. “Now let’s see how good you are when I’m between your legs makin’ then shake.”

    His wink doesn’t go unnoticed by you as your clothes are shed, his coming off until he’s left in nothing but his boxers.

    There’s little left to the imagination, the outline of his cock clear as he wraps his hands around your ankles and tugs you down to the end of the bed.

    You yelp, sliding off the pillows as he sinks to his knees, hungry eyes just waiting to taste you.

    “Look at you,” he cooes, “drippin’ at the thought of me between your thighs?” He mocks, cocking his head to side as he keeps your legs open.

    Chaste kisses are pressed to your inner thighs, gently as you try to stop the plea’s that are begging to slip past your mouth.

    “You’re bein’ so patient for me too, good girl.” He praises, he breath over your core is hot as you grab for his hair.

    The feeling of his tongue makes you moan and squeeze your legs around his head.

    “Mmm,” he hums, “that good already?”

    If he wasn’t buried between your legs you might’ve, just might’ve had the courage to roll your eyes.

    His fingers tease your entrance as his mouth works over your clit.

    There’s no holding back now.

    You don’t care how loud you’re being, giving into the sensation as he works you to the edge, your legs shaking.

    “You wanna come, don’t you, pretty girl?” Yes, God, yes.

    “Well that’s too bad,” he taunts making you let out a whine.

    “Not until I’m buried deep ‘side of you,” he grunts, quickly stripping off the rest of his clothes until he’s crawling back over you with a condom in his hand.

    You’re still dizzy, slightly angry from your denied orgasm, but wanting nothing more than to feel him stretching you out.

    “You think you’re ready for my cock,” he smirks teasingly as you feel him at your entrance.

    You whine, bringing his lips to your but he stops you at the last second.

    “Uh uh baby, I wanna hear you beg for it.” He taunts, nose brushing yours.

    “Fuck,” you whimper, “please, just fuck me.” You beg, eyes meeting his.

    That’s all he needs before he’s slowly sinking into you, watching your face contort in immeasurable pleasure.

    “Feel so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, “so tight and warm.”

    Your fingers dig into his speckled back, finding your ground as you dig into the soft skin as he thrusts into you.

    Suddenly, the only think you can think about is how good this feels.

    “My pretty girl,” he whispers, bending your one leg at the knee to get a deeper angle.

    “Takin’ my cock so goddamn well,” he grunts, “gonna make me come.”

    His words send a shiver down your spine as your walls flutter around him. He drops on one of his elbows, getting impossibly close to you.

    “You’re gonna come too, aren’t you, sweetheart?” He teases, lips on yours swallowing every moan before you feel a hand around your throat.

    “Look at me when you come, baby,” he purrs, applying just the slightest amount of pressure to the column of your throat.

    “Wanna see you come for me,” he smirks, his thrusts getting harsher before you feel yourself giving into your orgasm.

    Your body shakes as your mouth falls open, his name a breathy moan before you feel his hips stuttering.

    He sounds exhausted after he spills inside of you, tumbling on top of you as you’re left in sweaty silence as you’re left with nothing to do but run your fingers through his dampened hair.

    “Gemini or not, you’re what made me weak in the knees, sweetheart.” Chris whispers, eyes on yours as you feel a flutter in your heart.

    “There’s somethin’ about you that I won’t ever grow tired of, that I’m sure about.”

[jakesguitarstring]

like you do in the dark || j.m.k.

masterlist 

i wrote the thing. please don't judge me, im very much exposing my kinks lmao

summary: trying something new with josh

words: 4.1k

warnings: pure smut (18+ minors dni!), masturbation, unprotected sex (always wear a condom folks!), a tiny bit of stripping, mentions of oral sex, light dom!y/n and sub!josh (just telling him what to do, not bdsm!)

*not tagging anyone cause this isn't everyone's cup of tea*

There is always a give and take in any relationship, the natural current that ebbs and flows into a comfortable peace between two lovers. You could feel it in the easy, slow mornings, waking up to reckless curls and soft kisses, in warm dinners on Josh’s patio where the light perfectly accented the curve of his lips and his thumb made circles on your wrist, or in knowing smiles across crowded rooms and possessive holds on your hip late into the night. The feeling was so clear in greedy lips that equally clashed with the need for control and the demand to submit. It seemed neither one of you could solidly decide which role to play as soon as you’d set the stage. Both of you allowed yourselves to be rocked by a current of wills until eventually one of you broke through the crest of the wave and took control.

Tonight, there was no game to be played as low, soft music became the soundtrack of passion and love. He’d picked the music, normally preferring one of his vinyls, but you’d told him to put on a playlist so no one would have to get up and flip the record to Side B in the middle of what you had planned. You’d been thinking about this for longer than you’d like to admit. This idea had taken almost all of your fantasies over, and you couldn’t get it out of your head. Your relationship was one of open and easy communication. It had to be with the crazy life he led. It had taken time for each of you to learn how to create the free-flowing communication that existed now, but there was nothing in the world you couldn’t say to him and he to you.

Last night, as you laid on his chest and he created patterns on your back with his muscular hands, you said, “I wanna try something.” He’d been all ears, even if you couldn’t exactly look him in the eyes as you described your fantasy. Of course, he would never, ever make you feel even an ounce of embarrassment for asking. Yet, it didn’t stop your own embarrassment that caused a light pink blush to blot across your features. His hands never faltered as you talked and he didn’t interrupt once, surprisingly. It seemed you were one of the few, if not perhaps the only, that Josh listened to intently without his mind already working at a lightning pace to formulate a response. You finished and waited for his reply, prepared for him to tell you politely that he didn’t want to try it. None of your feelings would be hurt and you wouldn’t even be disappointed. That was a part of the open communication.

But he surprised you yet again. “Would tomorrow night work?” He asked.

You watched as his fingers slowly turned the volume knob on the speaker until it was the perfect level, loud enough that the room wouldn’t be silent, but not loud enough to overpower the sounds each of you was bound to make. He turned around and looked at you, and the annoying sense of uncertainty weaseled its way into your chest.

Of course, he noticed. “Don’t worry, darling. I know how much you want this.” He said, crossing over to you in a matter of seconds and bringing your hips flush against his, his thumbs found their way under the hem of your shirt and soothed you with his touch and you reached up to hold on to his biceps. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself a few moments to collect your thoughts. He was right. You wanted this almost desperately, and he was willing to play along.

“Kiss me Joshua.” You said, and he didn’t waste time in complying, his lips finding yours with an ease that only comes when two people have completely given themselves to the other.

The taste of him in your mouth seemed to breathe in the confidence you needed and forced away any insecurity or worry that had been an unwelcome guest in your gut. You tightened your grasp on his arms and held him close against you as you pushed your face forward to claim the dominance of not only the kiss, but the rest of the night. He almost forgot himself and pushed back, but then let himself submit to you completely. His tongue didn’t explore you like he was wont to do, instead he let you graze your tongue across his bottom lip and then past his waiting lips. You were desperate to not pull away as a soft whimper was flush against your lips, but he moved his hands up your side, his rough, calloused fingers ghosting your skin.

If he was making the rules tonight, his touch would have melted you into him, letting him do anything he wanted, but tonight, his touch stopped you. You pulled away completely from him, creating several inches of space between you and ignoring the way your thighs were dangerously close to pressing together to abate the ache between them.

“Did I say you could touch me?” You asked, surprised and overjoyed that your voice came out strong and barely affected by him. Thank god he couldn’t see the truth, that his touch and his lips and his voice had caused every part of you to pulse and thrum, matching the erratic beat of your wild heart.

He blinked to center himself in the moment and then shook his head.

“I didn’t think so.” You took another breath. Again, thankful it wasn’t shaky because your hands were shaking terribly. If Josh noticed, he didn’t show it. You stepped to the side and out of the way of his path to your bed. “Sit on the bed.”

He did as he was told, but you saw the slight uptick at the corner of his just-kissed lips. You turned your back to him and walked over to his music set up. You’d told him he could pick the music, but now you’d changed your mind. The calming mix of indie and Laurel Canyon classics he picked just didn’t work for you now, so you put on your own playlist. This was your own personal playlist, for your own personal time, and when you turned around, Josh’s knowing look sent more heat to your core. He’d heard it plenty of times. You both get lonely when he’s on the road, so there were videos saved on his phone and many face times that featured this playlist. He’d also absolutely walked in on you enjoying the playlist more than once.

You take your time walking back over to the bed. You’d worn an old Greta Van Fleet t-shirt that had seen better days. It was ratty and bleach stained and would be better off as a rag by now, but you couldn’t seem to part with it. It definitely had a lot to do with the way Josh looked at you when you wore it. You knew it stroked his ego to see you in his band’s merch. The logo was almost like a brand against your skin, showing the world who you belonged to. The shirt made you feel confident and sexy and there was no way the shirt was leaving your closet until it was literally disintegrating in your hands, but tonight it was in the way of the main event.

You stopped in front of Josh, only close enough that if he reached out, the tips of his fingers would graze your skin, only just. Your own fingers traced the edge of your jeans against your skin and reached for the buttons, but then you smiled and turned around on the heels of your bare feet. Once the jeans were unbuttoned, you purposefully took as much time as you could to take them off, gradually revealing the light pink, lacy underwear you’d hidden in the back of your closet several months ago, saving them for the perfect moment. Tonight was their perfect debut. The sound of Josh shuffling on the bed spurred you on, letting yourself lazily follow your hand down your legs by bending down and forcing Josh to stare at your ass. You weren’t really forcing him; you knew his eyes would be laser focused anyway, but it was pertinent that you maintained the control tonight. Luckily, you knew the exact way to keep him on edge all night until you were ready for him.

Finally, you kicked away your jeans and gave your hips one last swing before turning around and facing your sweet boyfriend. Next to go was your shirt, and you allowed yourself the same slow movements, fingertips floating across your skin until you finally unveiled the matching bra. Josh’s bottom lip was between his teeth and his hands clenched at his side, so clearly desperate to reach out for you, but he was being so good. Despite the growing bulge in his pants. The sight made you want to shiver, but you kept your composure even though there was nothing hotter than seeing the effect you had on your man.

“Aw, look at you, my sweet boy.” You said as your hand reached up to play with your breast over its lacy coverage. “Being so good for me. Aren’t you?”

“Y–yes.” He struggled to say. You laughed. He was so cute with his rosy cheeks and lust filled eyes. You wanted to put him out of his misery and race toward both of your releases, but that wasn’t what tonight was about, that wasn’t your fantasy. So both of you would have to be patient, although him a little more so.

Now both of your hands were massaging your breasts and you let your head fall back with a moan. If tonight was different, Josh would have his hands on you instead and he’d take the opportunity with your head tossed back to pull your skin between his teeth. The ghost of the many memories flushed through you and you knew that when you opened your legs for Josh later in the night, he would be welcome with the evidence soaking these flimsy panties.

Josh made a noise somewhere between a groan and a moan and you straightened and looked him over. “No touching. You can’t touch me. You can’t touch yourself.” You explained. “Do you understand?”

He nodded, and you closed the distance between you and straddled his lap and he moved his hands out of the way so they wouldn’t touch your legs or your thighs as he normally would. Your hands grabbed his face, and you slanted your lips to his, kissing him harshly but slowly, savoring the taste of him and the way it was so easy to take control. His facial hair rubbed against your chin and upper lip and you knew they’d be red, yet another way he seemed to mark you, claim you. You raised yourself on your knees so that you had the higher ground in the kiss and twisted your fingers into his curls, scratching and pulling. He moaned against your lips and you just kissed him harder and he grunted. You pulled away from him and looked down at the bed and gazed at his clenched fists, his knuckles white. Disentangling your fingers from his hair, they traveled down his face and neck until they settled against his chest, tangibly feeling his own erratic heartbeat pump against them.

His eyes watched you as you lowered yourself on to him and heat pulsated to your center once you made contact and he cursed breathlessly. You firmly pressed your lips together to prevent yourself from reacting to the instant relief you experienced. Feeling him right there, so close, but not close enough. Your soaked panties against the coarse fabric of his pants, you could sense the heat radiating off of him and you rolled your hips to ease more of the pressure that had settled in your lower stomach.

“Fuck.” He muttered and rested his head against your shoulder. He was trying so hard to remain completely collected, but he was barely holding on. And you’d just started. A laugh that you didn’t allow to escape bubbled up in your chest. You’d hardly touched this man, and he was losing it so quickly.

One of your hands lifted from his chest and reached for his chin and forced him to look directly at you as you moved your hips into him again, this time you perfectly grinding your clit into him which sent electricity to your toes.

“This feels so good.” You said, repeating your movements. “Fuck, you’re so hard already.”

He gave you a humorless laugh.

You smirked and found your rhythm against him. “Do you wanna touch me, baby?”

He practically whined. “Y-yeah, so bad.”

“Mhm. Where do you wanna touch me?” Your breath shuddered slightly as your sensitive bud pulsed. You recovered quickly.

Josh’s tongue jutted out of his mouth to wet his bottom lip. “Your pussy.” He answered matter-of-factly. “Let me feel how wet you are.”

The resolve you’d been trying so hard to maintain almost faltered because you wanted that, too. If there were other men in the world who took as much pleasure in hooking their fingers against a woman’s g-spot as their tongue performed magic on their clit, you’d never met them. Oral sex had always seemed transactional before: I scratch your back; you scratch mine. Or some rushed through foreplay to get to the main event. But not with Josh. Josh could spend hours between your thighs if you’d let him. And there were many nights that you let him. Not tonight.

You pressed yourself roughly into him one more time before you stood up from him, ignoring your body’s complaint at the lack of release. He smiled, thinking he was getting his way, but he was mistaken.

“Sit back further on the bed.” You said, and he complied again and you climbed on the bed and leaned your back against the coolness of your headboard. There was no way he could tear his eyes away from you as you spread your legs for him.

“Look at you.” He murmured, taking in the sight of those lacy panties now practically sheer with your wetness. When he leaned forward and raised a shaky hand toward you, you stopped him.

“Oh, did I say you could touch me?”

Your name fell from his lips like a plea. You ignored him and trailed your hand down your body to the exact spot he was so desperate to touch.

“You don’t get to touch. Me. Or You.” You said, incredibly proud of the strength in your voice because you felt like you were seconds from falling apart at the seams. “You get to watch. Isn’t that right, sweet boy?” Your fingers slipped into the silky fabric, instantly being soaked as you touched yourself. A gasping sigh was the only sign of your faltering willpower. He didn’t answer you, just watched you create patterns exactly the way he would if he could touch you.

He watched you with burning intensity and you looked over at him, still fully clothed, his tented pants seemingly uncomfortable, so you took pity on him. At least that was what you told yourself. It had nothing to do with your innate need to see him, to see the way you were affecting him.

“Take off your clothes, Joshua.”

His shirt was off before you could blink, but his hands stuttered at the buttons of his pants, being so close to where he needed his own release. When he finally bared it all for you in all his glory, you sped up your movements. His erection stood upright against him and you could tell he needed you.

“Look at you.” You repeated his words from earlier and he was definitely a sight to see.

He smiled. “No fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“You get to see me. I can’t see you.”

“Deal with it.” Yet again, astonished at your own power in this situation. He couldn’t see how close you were, but he could absolutely hear it. Neither one of you spoke as the room filled with the sounds of your playlist and your own pleasure.

You could feel the zap of heat at the base of your spine and it sent electric jolts across your body. Without realizing it, your free hand reached out for Josh and landed on his knee. You couldn’t help the smile that etched over your features as his cock twitched just from that one simple touch.

He let out another breathless, soft laugh that was more of a sigh. “See what you do to me?”

Your breath hitched and your eyes fluttered shut as you felt the familiar shake of your muscles throughout your body. “Josh,” you gasped.

“I’m here, baby. Oh fuck, I’m here.”

You forced your eyes open and looked over at him. His hands had snaked their way onto his thighs, still not touching himself where he wanted, but close enough.

“Don’t fucking touch yourself Josh.” You said, and he immediately forced his hands back into the bed. His hips moved against nothing, but he kept his hands clutching onto your bedspread.

So fucking desperate, so fucking needy.

The sight of him just barely holding onto his control sent you over the edge into the depths of your pleasure, your nails digging into his knee as you took yourself through the convulsion of your muscles and the last spasms until your movements became languid.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” He said. “Always so damn beautiful.”

You smiled, your heart fluttering both at his compliment and at how low and guttural his voice was. He was hanging on by a thread. Lifting your hips slightly, you took off your underwear and allowed Josh to have a full view.

The sound he made set your body aflame yet again, as if you hadn’t just brought yourself to orgasm only minutes ago.

“The bra too?” He asked, his voice choked.

“Do you want to see my tits?”

“Please.”

You nodded and pulled away from the headboard to unhook the bra and flung it across the room. His eyes fell on your exposed breasts, and it mesmerized him as he watched you massage your breasts. His tongue darted out quickly against his lips.

You’d made it as far as you could. Now you needed your man.

“Josh.” You said.

He dragged his eyes away from your body and up to your eyes. “Yeah?”

“Touch me now.”

He blinked like he didn’t hear you.

“Josh?” You whispered.

“Yeah, yeah. Just give me a second. Just… fuck.” He shook his head. “I’m so lucky.”

“You are, aren’t you?” The two of you shared a laugh, and he finally pulled himself onto his knees and made his way to you. His lips grazed your ankle and journeyed all the way up your body until he reached your lips, settling himself between your legs.

As his lips attached to yours, his hips jutted against you and his length grazed through your wet folds. Both of you moaned against each other, and he made the movement again, sending vibrations through your body. He reached between you and felt how wet you were for himself. He groaned as one of his fingers slowly entered you and then he brought it up to his lips and licked it clean. All the while, his heavy cock resting exactly where you were desperate for more. He bent down to kiss you again.

“Don’t tease, Josh.” You said into his mouth and you felt his lips curve into a smile.

“Are you still giving orders?” His hand made its way down to your breast and pinched a taut nipple.

You didn’t answer him, instead just reached between your sweaty bodies and took him in your hand. “Yes.” You eventually said and positioned him right at your entrance.

“Good.” He said and didn’t give you a chance to prepare before he drove into you completely. He consumed the sharp breath you’d exhaled with his lips as he pulled out of you totally and then pushed into your center again. And then he did it again, without the needy urgency that you both felt. So slow that you felt every single part of him enter you, inch by inch. It was deliciously indulgent, but you were desperate at the moment.

“Josh.” You ground out.

His head dipped into the hollow of your neck. “Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me. Josh. Fuck me.” He took the smooth skin of your neck between his teeth and did as you said. Your nails dug into his ass, inciting him to move faster and harder. The way he drove into you, you thought he might drill you through the mattress. But it still wasn’t enough. “More. More. Please.” He complied, snapping his hips harshly into you.

“Fuck, feeling you like this. Oh god, you’re so perfect.” He babbled and his hands moved down to your hips so he had more leverage as he pounded into you. “I can’t believe I get to fuck you like this.” His pace faltered and his hand came between your bodies and circled your clit. Neither one of you would last much longer and you both knew it, each clawing desperately at a release.

“Yes, baby. Just like that.” You gasped.

“Let me see you let go. I need to feel you. Fuck. Come on, baby. Please.” The desperate urgency in his voice pushed you over your edge again, feeling it in every inch of your body, crying out against his shoulder. “Beautiful.” He muttered, his hips having lost any sense of rhythm and erratically pumping into you.

“You too, Josh. You too.” He obeyed your last order, pressing into you and filling you so perfectly.

It took him a long time to pull away from you and you had to stop yourself from sighing at the loss of him inside you. He placed a chaste kiss on your forehead and grabbed a washcloth, and turned off the playlist, and then cleaned you up, peppering soft kisses across your skin as he did.

“Do you want to shower?” He asked after he threw the washcloth into the laundry bin, still leaning over you.

You shook your head and pulled him down to lie beside you. “No. Too sleepy.” You mumbled against his chest, his hands rubbed up and down your sides and your arms and your hips. This is how it always was with him. There was no rolling over and falling asleep after sex. It’s like nothing could ever sate his need to be connected with you, still needing to be tied up in you and not lose the intensity between you. He only stopped his movements to pull the blankets over your bodies and then resumed them with the same soft intensity you expect from him.

“I liked that.” He said, and you moved your head off his chest to look up at him. You smiled at each other. “Did you?”

You bit your bottom lip. “I did, yeah.” One of his hands moved to your face, stroking a finger down your cheek to your chin and then guiding you up to his lips. The heat that had propelled you forward earlier in the night was long gone, replaced with the unhurried, soft kisses of two people desperately and intrinsically connected, two souls that have been joined together and can never be torn asunder.

When you pulled away to return your head to his chest and listen to the calming drumbeat of his heart, he said your name. “Do you have more lingerie hidden away from me?” He asked.

“Mhm, maybe.” You giggled as you thought about the red set you were going to pull out for Valentine’s Day and the green set that you hadn’t decided on a use for yet.

“That was a nice little surprise.”

“Really? Cause you seemed pretty keen on getting them off of me.”

“What can I say? I’m a simple man who can appreciate the wrapping paper, but will tear it off to get to the present.”

“Okay, lingerie is expensive, so don’t you dare tear it.” The two of you fell into a leisurely banter until sleep overtook you.

The ocean flowing back to peaceful, calming waves, for now, until the next current will come to crash against the steady easiness of being together. In the morning, you would wake up to unruly curls and soft kisses and the promise of a lifetime of mornings, knowing a lifetime couldn’t possibly be enough.

[sslow-dancer]

“Be Quiet.” (Rohan Kishibe x Fem Reader)

Warnings: dubcon, degradation/humiliation, fingering, edging, slight spanking, slapping, nsfw

tags: fxm, rohan kishibe x fem reader, dom!rohan x sub!reader, nsfw, smut

Description: When you accidentally disrupt Rohan’s train of thought when drawing his latest manga, he has his own ways of punishing you for doing so.

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

It had been over a month since you and Rohan last got intimate. Ever since he released his newest manga, he’s choosen to spew out new chapters and volumes left and right like no other mangaka has instead of paying attention to you or really anyone who comes by the Kishibe house.

With all this information, it honestly made you very upset. You were never really the clingy type prior and after dating Rohan, but with all that’s been going on in and outside the home, you couldn’t help but mourn him even though he was in the office right next to your room.

When free, you’d do your best to take him out to dinner or have him hang out with friends like Josuke and Koichi (though of course he’d automatically refuse if Josuke is even slightly mentioned of coming to your hangout). Either way, it didn’t work. You knew he could be the cold type but hearing him repeatedly say no over and over again for weeks finally made you completely hopeless.

It’s now present time, you lie in your bed silently humming to a tune while reading a book. Rohan is of course in his office drawing up god knows what chapter he’s on. You yawn at the thought of taking a nap. You rub at your eyes as you place your book on the nightstand, sighing as you look at the time. He should be coming to bed by now, you think.

You go to remove your shirt, leaving you in a soft pink nightgown with pink shorts under. You have only been sleeping in this gown for a short while, a small voice in the back of your mind telling you to wear it to impress Rohan and possibly make him have other thoughts. Though you’re not sure yourself if pink and small frills is his thing, you wore it anyway to see if anything would or will happen.

You walk over to Rohan’s office, silently opening the door to see what he was doing.

“Rohannie...” you call out in a sweet voice, closing the door behind you. You were probably the only person in the world that was allowed to call your boyfriend that (though he did briefly mention that an old friend of his called him that back in the day).

Rohan looks up from his desk, keeping his face turned away from you. He sighs putting down his pen,

“Be quiet.”

You frown, placing your hands behind your back.

“Did you even knock? Did I allow you to come in?”

You’re taken aback by his sterness, you answer anyway,

“No I just thought-“

“You, “I just thoughtt”, what?”

He’s turned his chair; facing you now and clearly mocking your words and tone. You purse your lips, turning to exit back to your room. You yelp when you feel a hand aggressively pull you back from your wrist, their grip strong. It was Rohan’s hand, you hear the words “Heaven’s Door” before blacking out.

~ Time Skip ~

You wake up, the only thing in sight being the wooden ceilings of your home. You were on the floor, your gown bunched up to your chest and shorts slightly rising up your abdomen.

You couldn’t remember what had happened before you ended up here. You rub at your temple as you try to remember until your thoughts are disrupted by a pair of familiar hands on both sides of your waist. Before you even have time to fully react, you feel your ass resting on Rohan’s lap, his breath ghosting over your face as he goes to rub at your inner thigh.

You moan, your touch depriveness slowly wanting to leave your body. You close your eyes as he moves closer to your sex. Rohan hums, his lips forming into a smirk once he turns his soft rubbing to full on spanking. You gasp at this, immediately opening your eyes to wiggle against him; to let him know you didn’t like this. He only chuckles, keeping a firm grip on your thigh and placing his other hand on your face, caressing your cheek lightly as he speaks,

“Not fun being ripped away from your thoughts, huh? Well, don’t think I’ll stop my actions for you, you dumb slut. I’ll stop when I’m satisfied.” he glides his thumb across your lips, keeping his pointer under your chin. He smirks once again, slapping you across the face.

You squeal, raising your hands up to push him away. He prevents you from doing this by grinding his hardness against you, using your desperateness as a manipulative tactic to not let you get away. You miserably fall for this, resting your arms over his shoulders as you feel your wetness seep through your panties as he continues to make you grind into him.

“Huh...you really are naive. You’re being forced to stay here with me but instead of fighting back, you stay anyway because you don’t want to be alone and haven’t been touched like this by me in weeks. You do anything when you’re desperate, I guess my stand never does lie.”

You ignore his words, wanting him to continue his dry thrusting. He goes on,

“You’re so stupid, you look stupid. Look it here,” he pulls down your gown, revealing your breasts, your nipples hardening as they meet the cool air. He grabs at one, aggressively perking up your nipple with his pointer and middle finger, he looks up at you with hungry eyes, “you’re always flaunting them. Secretely wanting all the guys and girls in all of Morioh to look at them. Quick thinking you only do it for me, you do it for everyone. You’re a whore to everyone and anyone.”

“Stop it, Rohan!”

“For the second time, I’ll stop when I want to!”

Rohan pulls your back against his chest, ripping way the middle of your gown with ease so he can get easier access towards your breasts. He gropes at them harshly as he forcefully puts his lips over yours, preventing you from breathing normally. You mumble loudly, he groans in frustration,

“I should’ve written for you to cooperate. Though I’m too lazy to do that now...I guess I’ll just have to make you like it.” he says as he bites your lip to shush your mumbling. You gasp for air once he finally lets go.

While you to try to collect yourself, he bunches up your panties and shorts to the side and inserts two of his fingers inside you. You whimper at the sudden fullness of your sex. Your fluids already embarrassingly pooling down the base of his fingers. Rohan laughs,

“So you do like it, huh? Already so wet for me even before I even touched you. Let’s see how long I can torture you before you cum. So pathetic...”

He inserts a third finger, your legs shaking more than they ever have now. You do your best to balance yourself over his lap by putting both hands on the handles of his chair. God forbid what’d he do if you collapsed against him.

He begins to pump his fingers in and out of you. You blush at the lewd sounds coming from your pussy, progressively getting louder and wetter as he picks up his pace. You begin to feel sweat drip down from your forehead, tears collecting at your eyes as you recognize the coming of an orgasm. You plead,

“Rohan, please! Please let me cum!”

“What?”

“Please! I’ll do anything!”

“Do anything, huh?”

“Yes!”

“Then how about you learn... how not to disturb me!”

He once again slaps you across the face. You moan at the sensation the pain gives you, cumming all over his crotch area. He snakes an arm around your waist, pushing your sensitive clit down onto his hardness. You hiss at actions, resting your head against his shoulder to avoid focusing on what’s going on beanth you. He raises his fingers up to your mouth,

“Open.”

You oblige, sucking his fingers clean. He pats your jaw, laughing as he goes to poke and fiddle with your lips.

“It’s a shame you’re a little good-for-nothing whore, you look so pretty when you follow my orders.”

He pushes you off his lap, your body making a loud thud once it meets the floor. You kneel in front of him, holding your hand out to unzip his flyer, he stops you,

“Not now, I still have work to do. I can take care of it myself. Besides, those lips don’t deserve to be anywhere near my dick, anyway.”

You keep your eyes low as you pick yourself up. Your legs shaking as you open the door, you look up to see if Rohan is watching you. He isn’t. He’s back to drawing again. You sigh stepping out back to your room.

“Make sure you close the door behind you.” he calls out.

You oblige.

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

A/N: Now I usually don’t write these at the end of my scenarios but holy shit! Did you guys like it? This is my first time writing dubcon and I’m kind of proud of myself. Obviously I’m still learning but I think it’s one of the best writings I’ve done in a while. Anyway, if you’re reading this know that both sfw and nsfw scenarios are still available to request! Thanks for reading x

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

oooh may i request eren with a female s/o who doesn't put up with his bullshit? Like when he gets jealous n stuff

So I turned this into a break up fic because why not!? I live to hurt my own self while writing. I was listening to Noir By Sunmi while writing this hence the title.

Pairing: Eren/ Reader

Tags: angst, breaking up, seriously angst, modern au

Warnings: mentions of jealousy, angst, seriously. Just angst.

Noir

There is a despicable attire masking the way you're looking at Eren. The feeling that's boiling in the depths of your chest as you're sitting across from him on your kitchen table is indescribable. It's mixture of anger and determination, merged with heavy specs of remorse, whether it is for yourself or him, you haven't decided yet.

Your reflection in the glass of the kitchen table is mocking you. In it you can see a few of the cupboards behind you, you can see your inox fridge that's decorated in numerous small polaroids and you can see your hair, being messy and tousled, just like it always is when you're staying indoors. But you- no, your face. Your face looks deformed and blank, lost in the aggravating aspects of an angered expression.

Setting your eyes to any where but Eren isnt a simple task. Rather, you find no interest in looking at the borders between the marble tiles of the floor. They were plain and annoying to look at, but if you could you'd pretend they could calm you down. Keeping your huff in though, you alternate your gaze onto the top of the counter, onto the tap of the sink. You squint, pretending to take a good notice of the forms that light reflects into the object.

"I just don't want other guys being too touchy with you." Eren groans.

"Aren't we over this?" You roll your eyes.

"Yes, just pointing out that you wouldn't like that either."

There he goes again and you can't help but immediately snap your orbs to his direction. You have lost count of how many times he has mentioned it in only the span of five hours. He mentioned in while taking a shower, he mentioned it while working out, be mentioned it while cooking yet you've chosen to ignore him. Yet you know that ignorance doesn't benefit anyone, ever.

And you shouldn't act as if you're surprised, especially since you haven't addressed this. This is Eren. This has always been Eren. Expressing your concerns to Eren about how you feel he should trust you more has never worked, why should it work now?

"Eren, I can trust you that you won't let anyone do that!? Don't you trust me?"

"Yes, but."

"But?"

"I don't trust what others want to do to you. And what if you give in? Did you just wake up one day and decided to just devote ourself to me specifially?"

Eren is bitterly jealous. There's this spite that's hiding the aqua lines of his eyes, this sour mood that he always carries around when he gets in it. This stops him from being able to eat even slightly to normal; his hands are nervous and sweaty, his fork is abandoned to the side of his plate, his thumbs tapping onto the flat sides of his plate as if he's waiting for a response. There's not even the hint of a crump going down his throat, more so there's not a single bite taken off of his sandwich.

"Eren no one was touchy with me. Jean, Reiner, Armin, Marco... these are literally our friends since school!" You speak, munching onto your own food.

"I know."

"Then? Want to talk about it?"

You hate the way you make it sound like it's okay to casually be tender to him when he's judging you but you've been munching onto that bite of your cold noodles for a long time now. Your throat is refusing to take down bites anymore in result of you having stuffed your mouth to the full. It's an effort to shush yourself, to silence that voice that begs to come out and speak words you might regret.

"It's just." Eren pauses.

And you wait for his words to come out. By tapping your own hand onto the the glass of the table, you fixate your gaze onto Eren's uncomfortable form. You watch as his face gets buried to the palms of his hands, you watch as he refuses to face you while he clicks his tongue. His foot is rapidly tapping onto the floor, his hair is being pulled back by his fingers. The loud exhales he takes are indicators to the heavy weight that's sitting on his chest.

"It's so hard for me because I imagine you being with others, I don't want anyone to get their hands on something that's mine. And it's driving me crazy (y/n)."

Out of spite you push your eyes to the side. Facing Eren isn't something you feel like you're free to do at the moment. It's horrendous that you have to answer to that. Your heart is alternating between hammering inside your chest and dropping to your stomach. Your mind is confused as to what you should begin to think, or say. This is Eren, you keep repeating to your self, your spongy brain though is refusing to believe it.

It makes you wonder; Is this a time to be kind or is the last straw?

"Eren this is destroying you isn't it?"

Eren nods and then hides inside the neck of his hoodie, he pulls his sleeves over his palms and brings his elbows to the top of the table, setting them down as he leaned his face into his now clenched fists. You take it upon you to swallow that amount of food that's in your mouth up until now and when you do it goes down your throat dryly, painfully even. Your eyes are somewhat stinging, tiny little droplets are already starting to form in their corners.

"I don't want to feel like this anymore."

"It's destroying me too. Your jealousy."

Your chest rises and falls, your eye brows furrowing paid fully over your eyes as you look down. You can feel the gaze that's fixated on you; Eren is burning holes through your form with his piercing gaze, even if you can't see it it's a fact that you can't help but ignore. You heart the clenching of your teeth as your jaw locks onto place, trying to salvage every aspect of what can be saved between you and Eren.

"Then what did you suggest we do?" Eren quarries with a soft voice, his arm reaching out to wiggle underneath the grip you have of your face and hair.

"I-"

Maybe you can try. Couples try and fight for each other. And then things are supposed to get better. When you're down he's supposed to help you reach the top and you're supposed to do that too. It just doesn't feel like that with Eren anymore. You feel like Eren is holding you back, you feel like he's digging and delving into the past in such way that present doesn't matter to him anymore. You hate to think that it's not healthy to stay with each other anymore. If you weren't so exhausted by this being your new reality, you would be willing to try.

Your hands move reluctantly from their grip on your head, your thumbs shivering as you moved then down and along Eren's cubits. You trace imaginary lines over his slightly olive skin. Your fingers, shaking as much as your thumb work into taking his hands on yours, as you're pressing your palms onto his knuckles slightly.

"Maybe we should take a break from each other."

Your lips feel lighter than air as you mouth the words, still you're more concerned about how Eren is taking the sentence up. It's not easy to digest; you moved your eyes onto his form and suddenly they're stuck there, that pained expression is suppressing your lips in a puckered state, harsh lines spreading all over the volume of your lips.

"I didn't say this for you to tell me that."

Eren throws his hands in a orbit that's years of light away from yours. He's not touching you anymore, and you lose every ounce of affection in your body. The stinging tears that had threatened to fall are starting to vanish, hiding inside the sponge tissue of the corners of your eyes. A shiver runs through you as you watch Eren's nervous foot stop it's rhythm.

"I know."

"I'm sorry. I've talked about this with you so many times. And I'm just not feeling like I can do this anymore. I wish I could fight about us even more, but I can't be the only one fighting. I feel horrible for saying this but Eren, saying this sentence felt liberating for me. I feel free."

"There's no need to explain yourself. It's fine. Fine. I made you feel this way and yeah." Eren bit his lip as he spoke.

"I didn't think we'd end like this."

"Me neither." He snarls.

"I'm sorry"

"Don't be." His nose scrunches as he sniffles.

His eyes trace the uneaten sandwich in his plate, then they followed a forbidden path to you. But before he meets your eyes, he snaps his gaze back to what he was originally eyeing to distract himself. He wants to lash out, he wants to shout, but for what he doesn't know. It is rather odd to just sprout nonsense to someone who doesn't want to be standing across from him just because his devotions belonged to them up until second day ago.

Thus he bites on the inside of his cheek, pointy teeth digging into the soft flesh with fury, opening holes that he knows will be a pain in the ass before they heal again.

Without him, you'll be free. The phrase is a loop that's repeating into his head like a snap to reality.

Eren watchea as you bite your top lip and push your chair backwards, prompting your self up and away from the table, with your lips pushed into a thin line. He can see that it feels like a walk of shame, from your point in the kitchen to the sink, the way that your feet sound when clashing with the tiles of the floor indicate your need to not disturb him further. As if you're pitying him.

Eren grows to hate the way your pity presents it self. As if he is sick. But you are right.

"I'll go to sleep to Sasha's tonight and I'll come get my stuff tomorrow." You announced, without ever turning to look at him.

If he can work on himself he can try to get you back, he thinks and sighs. Nontheless he refuses to reply; he hasn't been given a right to reply to such statement. He can only let you go, and try not to be swallowed by the suffocating thought of you moving on without him.

At least now you can be free of that.

Taglist: @sasageyowrites @levisbrat25 @puredivinity @ackermans-freedom-inc @callmepromise @nobody-knows-anymore @berrijam @lzrers

[forever-rogue]

Afterglow - Part 6

A/N: Honey Bee finally made the smartest decision of her life in the last chapter and now...time to deal with the fallout. Thank you guys for supporting and loving this story too! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx 💕

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: None

AFTERGLOW MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Spitting out the toothpaste into the sink, you groaned slightly when you realized that you had left your mouthwash back on your desk. Tilting your head under the tap, you got a mouthful of water and swished it around in your mouth, trying to get the last bits of toothpaste out.

When you were satisfied with the lackluster brushing, you quickly splashed some cold water onto your face to wake yourself up. But it was no use - you still looked as tired and dragged out as you felt. There were dark circles under your eyes, your lips were chapped and cracked, and the joy you normally held in your eyes was all but gone. You had been going through the motions for the last three, feeling more like an empty shell than anything else. 

But you felt liberated - free. More so than you had in a long time. That in itself made your current struggle worth it.

Grabbing your toothpaste, toothbrush, and hairbrush, you stalked out of the bathroom, ready to slink back to your office before anyone else arrived. 

Looking furtively around the hall, you walked the short distance to your own office, almost making it to safety when you heard your name being called softly. Groaning inwardly, you cleared your throat and turned around, plastering on the best smile you could.

"Ally," you said softly, "y-you're here early!"

"I was just thinking the same thing," she joked, and while you could tell she meant no harm, it still caused you to panic slightly. She was well aware of you calling off your engagement, hell the whole world seemed to know, but she never seemed to pity you for it. Her eyes flicked to the items in your hands as a warmth crept into your chest and blossomed over your whole face, "I'm meeting a client early this morning because it was the only thing that fit into his schedule. Are you..."

You remained silent for a moment, hanging your head before letting out a long sigh, "look, I've just been staying here since things ended with Chad. I'm trying to find my own place, but its been a bit of a difficult go. Turns that a lot of people don't want to rent to you if you happen to have supposedly wronged Chad Williams. It seems like everyone knows him."

She reached out and gave your shoulder a soft, reassuring squeeze. Meeting her eyes, you found a small smile on her face, luckily not one of pity, "I'm sorry he's making things miserable still. I'm guessing your parents are out of the question?"

"Absolutely not an option," you admitted with a stiff laugh, "my mom seemed okay at first but she and my father quickly came to the conclusion that I was in the wrong and making a horrible mistake. They insisted I was just going through a phase because of nerves. When I told them I was sure about my decision and wasn’t going back, they all but...disowned me. Imagine the shame I’ve brought upon them in their minds...they’re so old fashioned. Maybe they’ll come around one day.”

"Yikes," she said as you nodded, "can I be honest with you?"

"Of course."

"I never liked him," she admitted softly, causing you to almost give yourself whiplash as you looked over at her, "there was just something about him that was off. I think - I know, you can do so much better."

"Thank you," you said as you laughed lightly, trying to hold the tears that threatened to well up at bay, "I hope so too."

"I mean it," she insisted, "you're kind, smart, pretty, and you've got a good heart. What more could anyone ask for?"

"Apparently a dutiful, quiet little wife..."

"Very funny," she teased, "why don't you come and stay with us? While you get your own place? We've got an extra bedroom that's not being used, and it's much better than staying here. Have you been sleeping on your hard old couch?”

"Yes..."

"Absolutely not," she shook her head, "come over when you're done for the day. We'll get the room ready for you. Anna will be happy to see you again too. And you know what, it's not an option, its a demand. Just come over tonight and we'll get you settled. I'll have Anna pick up some wine for dinner and everything."

"Ally, you're much too kind..." you said as her phone stared to ring. She looked at the screen and a big smile spread across her visage as her wife's name popped up on the screen.

"Speak of the devil," she laughed lightly, "tonight! No if, ands, or buts!"

You could only nod as she walked away, chattering excitedly as she went to her own office. Before stepping in and closing the door, she gave you a grin and wave that was enough to cause a single tear to roll down your cheek. It had been weeks since anyone had even shown you an ounce of kindness; most people had decided to scorn you instead, blaming you for everything that had happened. Wiping the warm drop away, you stepped foot into your own office, stashing your toiletries away for what you hoped would be the last time. Hopefully that everything you'd finally be able to have a proper, long, hot shower and sleep in a bed, two luxuries that you had been greatly missing. 

Pulling out a dress from the small wardrobe, you slipped it on, vowing to stop your little pity party. Sure, things weren't ideal right now, but you were still so much better off than others. That was something you did not take for granted.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Men really can be the worst,” Anna laughed, almost snorting into her wine as you held up your glass in a mock salute, “can you imagine being that pathetic and trying to sabotage someone you supposedly loved? I think it speaks volumes to his character.”

“The longer we were together, the more I realized that it was never about love, even if that’s how it started out. It was always about appearances and trying to please everyone else. It was getting so tiring.”

“I can only imagine,” Ally gave her your leg a small pat as you downed the rest of your glass, “but at least you’re free now. It’s easy to fall  into routine and not realize how unhappy we’ve become. We get used to just staying on one path. Usually it takes something big to make us realize what we’re doing isn’t what we wanted in the first place.”

“Okay Dr. Ally,” Anna teased her wife, “we’re not at the office. But I agree...I am curious, and happy, as to what caused you to realize that you deserve more.”

You felt the blood draining from your face almost immediately as you swallowed nervously, mouth dry. You weren’t about to delve into the memories and dreams that had been plaguing you over the weeks, becoming increasingly more frequent the closer your former wedding date had approached. Frankly, you hadn’t even admitted that to yourself yet, not out loud anyway. 

How were you supposed to tell yourself, let anyone else, that the reason you realized you deserved was better because you’d been dreaming of your high school boyfriend again? It had been twenty years, twenty long years without him - there was no reason you should have even given him a second thought. Yet...here you were. Still hung up on Frankie Morales, the boy that had earned your heart...and then brought it into a million pieces. You knew, you would be the first to admit, that it wasn’t all his fault, that you were to blame to an extent as well, but it didn’t make it any easier.

Ever since the day that you had run into him again, a day that should have been like any other, he’d been living rent free in your mind. Even if you hated him, even if you were still mad at him after all this time. You couldn’t help but wonder - what if. What if. 

What if he had come to California with you and you’d both stayed there? What if you had waited for him while you went to school and he was in the military? What if he’d come back to you long ago? Would you still be together? Would you be married to him? Would  you have a daughter or son that took on both of your best qualities? Or would you have eventually fallen out and broken up anyway, only to loathe each with every fiber of your being? Would you have stayed together?”

What if. What if. What if. 

It was that haunted you for so long now.

“Umm,” you snapped back into reality and pushed the thought of the boy you had loved out of your mind. You set the glass back down and made a small, noncommittal sound, “it was just a lot of things. The more real things became with the wedding planning the more I realized that I didn’t want this. It was at my last dress fitting actually, that I realized I couldn’t do it.” 

“That must have been quite a wake up call,” Anna’s eyes widened as she imagined the scene as you nodded, taking the almost empty bottle of wine and pouring the remainder into your class. 

“It was,” you admitted with a long sigh, “you should have been the poor dress maker. I almost ran out on her. But you know, even though things are far from perfect right now, I would still do it all again.”

“Cheers to that,” Ally held up her class, and the two of you clinked yours against it, “now to bigger and better things. You can, and will, do so much better.”

“Thank you both,” just being in their presence, let alone their home, had you feeling infinitely better, “I don’t even know where to begin to thank you.”

“What are friends for?” 

“I, however, do have some more good news,” Anna was proud of herself as the two of your gave her an inquisitive look, “I spoke to my friend who is a realtor today, no connection to Chad or anything, and he said he has a perfect little house available! It’s a little on the outskirts of town, a small, quiet neighborhood, but that it would be perfect for you. It’s not big, just a little two bedroom, one bath, but it’s all been redone recently, and it’s quaint. He showed me some pictures and I think you’d really like it.”

“You did...you did this for me?” you felt another wave of tears sting at the back of your eyes as she nodded. 

“I’m not trying to push this on you at all, or anything of the sort,” she promised, “but we were talking and it just came up and I thought of you. I thought I’d just tell you in case you were interested...you are, of course, welcome to stay with us however long you want.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” you said softly, “truly. I’d love to see the place. If you like, I’m sure it’ll be great. And honestly, it would be nice to get out of the city and be a little bit out of the way and I don’t need anything much. I just want a place that will feel like home...my own place.”

“Obviously it comes with the stipulation that we will get to help decorate and pick out furniture if you move into it.”

“I would expect nothing less,” you agreed, “it’s going to be nice getting my own things and having it be truly mine.”

“A fresh start,” she agreed, “I’ll tell Elijah that we’ll stop by tomorrow and take a look? How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” you agreed, feeling your heart finally feel warm again, as a wave of calm washed over you, “absolutely perfect.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next two weeks were a whirlwind of moving, although you technically didn’t have much to move, furniture shopping, unpacking, and organizing your new home. 

The house was cute, an older little home that had been recently renovated with a small yard and  a perfect spot for a garden. You could already picture yourself gardening once the cooler autumn and winter months were over. 

It wasn’t huge, but it had a spare bedroom you decided would serve as a home office and occasional guest room, although you figured you weren’t going to have many of those considering how easily everyone had cut you off. It was open, warm, and inviting, and it was perfect for what you wanted. It had brought up the idea of maybe adopting a dog or cat to keep as your friend. It had made you think of something that Frankie always said: anyone who wasn’t willing to share their home with an animal was as good as heartless.

It served as a sharp contrast to your former living situation; everything in the apartment you had shared with Chad had been cold, dark, and minimalistic. Nothing about it had ever felt truly homey, more like an ornate display at an art museum you were afraid to even look at. Chad had never wanted an animal of any sorts, not even a goldfish, claiming that it would take up too much time, too much space, and he just didn’t want something to take care of.

But your new home was the polar opposite, it was romantic and airy and filled with items and trinkets that made it feel like a home. A little animal friend would fit in perfectly. You were fitting in perfectly already. 

You’d even made it a point to go around the neighborhood and introduce yourself to people. Your justification was that you had literally nothing to lose, your family had turned their backs on you, your ex-fiance had taken almost all of the so called friends you’d had, and were left to your own devices. In the worst case scenario, you’d have met a few unsavory people, and in the best case scenario you’d get to know your neighbors and maybe make a few friends.

Something in the stars seemed to align, as your neighbors turned out to be kind and welcoming, and you were sure the cookies you offered them weren't a deterrent either. They were mostly either older couples, or small families, a few roommates that lived together. The normalcy of it all was endearing, and to know that you had a place that you were welcome was enough to let your heart rest easy. 

The only mystery that remained was your next door neighbor, the one on your left side. Whoever it was had been missing, gone or something, since you’d moved in several weeks before. While trying to maintain a respectful distance, you’d kept an eye on the house to see if you could spy anyone coming or going, see a car...something. But you never did - not even seen so much as a porch light flicker on. It seemed odd, especially in this neighborhood.

One afternoon, in the middle of unpacking the new bits of furniture for your living room and rearranging everything for about the tenth time, curiosity got the better of you. Maybe it was because you were in the middle of watching some true crime documentaries as you worked but you just felt...nervous. You were concerned about the health and safety of this mysterious neighbor that you hadn’t even met. You’d hastily wiped the sweat from your brow before rushing over to the neighbor on the other side of the seemingly nonexistent neighbor. 

Unfortunately, much to your chagrin, the other neighbor, an older widowed man by the name of Eddie, who happened to have an adorable dog that you decided you’d offer to take on walks, was just as clueless as you. 

He said he’d seen the man, at least you narrowed it down to that much, come on and go on occasion, but that he kept odd hours. He commented that he must have worked evenings or something, because he wasn’t around much at that time and it was always quiet during the day. Apparently it wasn’t odd for him to be gone for days at a time, or at least for no one to notice him. At least he’d be a quiet neighbor if he ever appeared again. But the older man hadn’t seemed too concerned, so figured there was nothing to worry about. You ended finding out that he was likely around your age, with dark hair. That was about all that Eddie knew; he said the man whose name he couldn’t even remember had always kept to himself since he’d moved in a few years ago. 

You’d thanked him, given the small fluffy dog a few pets and trudged back to your own place, arms filled with various baked goods, including a delicious smelling loaf of banana bread. Eddie had proudly declared that he had taken up the hobby of baking in his retirement and he always had been plenty to share. You made a mental note to store that little piece of info away for future use. 

And yet still, even as more days passed, you still didn’t see hide nor hair of the mystery man. You’d gone to work each morning, wondering if maybe you just missed him and you had conflicting schedules. You didn’t know why you even cared so much, or what drew you to solving this mystery, but you were just inexplicably invested. 

One evening, as you were watching some Netflix and unwinding with a glass of wine, browsing the adoptable animals at the local shelter, it hit you. It was like the proverbial lightbulb had been switched on and you came up with a brilliant idea. When you’d moved in, you’d taken some fresh, homemade cookies to everyone in the small cul-de-sac - why didn’t you just make some for him? 

It was brilliant, you thought to yourself as you set the wine glass down and almost tossed your laptop to the floor in excitement. You would make your favorite cookies, soft, gooey chocolate chip ones you fancied so much, get them all safely in a container and drop them off when you felt for work in the morning. If they were gone by the time you came home that would mean he had to have been there. 

Yes, you thought to yourself, this is brilliant. No one could turn down a plate of fresh cookies. 

So you’d spent the rest of the evening, bouncing around the kitchen excitedly, pouring your heart and soul into the every little step it took to make the perfect treat. By the time you’d gone to bed, excited and worn out, the little package was sitting on your counter for your to grab on your way out. This was going to be it, you just knew it.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You woke up early the next morning, even before your alarm went off, a smile on your face despite being tired. You almost stopped dead in your tracks when you realized that this was the first, the first time in what felt like a small eternity that you woke up like that. It was a good feeling, and you hoped that you would be able to hang onto it. 

Once you’d showered and done up your makeup and hair to your liking, you slipped on a pretty golden dress. It always made you feel pretty, the color bringing a slight bit of joy into your heart. You always felt confident and good in it, and you decided it was just what you needed. If your last session ended early enough, you even planned on stopping by the animal shelter to see if you made a connection with any of the adoptable animals. It was going to be a good day. You could feel it in your bones. 

Once you were ready to go, you grabbed your pre-packed lunch from the fridge, along with your purse and the package for your mystery neighbor. Almost flouncing over to his porch because you were buzzing with energy, you hopped up the steps and set it on the front porch and center, in the middle of the doormat, topped off with a handwritten note introducing yourself. The mat was a generic one, and you did a little look around to see if you could find a name or any personal touches around the porch. But there was nothing - no clue as to who it could be. It was no matter, you told yourself, you would have your answers soon enough.

Giving the neatly wrapped container one last fond look, you headed to your car and off to work. Hopefully you’d be busy enough to keep your mind occupied. It was silly to get so invested in something so trivial and yet...here you were. An eternal dreamer and optimist at heart, just like you always had been, even as a teenager. Even if you had to suppress that side of yourself for some time, more so with each passing year, you were still the same girl underneath it all. 

The day felt like it had like it went by in a blur as you saw several of your regular patients, feeling like you were finally able to help them properly and give them your undivided attention. It went so well that you did manage to finish up early, which meant  you could have your fun and go look at animals. You knew it would be a challenge to meet different pets and not be able to take them all home, but you were willing to give it the old college try. 

You hadn’t bothered to stop home and change, opting to go straight to the shelter.

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as you'd gotten there and started looking at the different dogs, you knew it would be hard. 

So many of the sweet dogs came up to you, some wagging their tails in nervous excitement, some just beside themselves, but others were more reluctant, sitting and observing you. You went up to as many as you could, keeping a respectful distance from them and offering them your hand to sniff. A couple of them give you a few licks, letting you reach in and pet them, but getting distracted as soon as they spied other people. Sweet dogs, all of them, but those weren’t the ones for you. As you walked through the various dogs, you were disheartened to find that you didn’t seem to have a connection to any of them. You hoped they would go to good homes soon regardless. Maybe it wasn’t your day to find a companion, which was totally okay with you. You’d just come back some other day and make sure that one of them got a home in your adobe.

But as you neared the end of the last row, you stopped when you spotted a small dog, small for being a pitbull that was, sitting in the corner of her kennel, a sad, dejected look on her face. She was a pretty thing, light tan with white marking on her sweet face, but her eyes contained a deep sadness.

“Hi, sweet girl,” you said softly as you didn’t even hesitate to drop to your knees, dropping on the floor of the kennel, sliding a few fingers under the barrier keeping you from her, trying to coax her to you. She observed you with keen interest, but remained rooted in her spot, “you are so pretty! I bet you’re just as sweet too, aren’t you? I can tell…”

“She’s very sweet,” one of the shelter’s volunteers, a young boy by the name of Lucas that had let you in, said as he walked up to you, “but she’s really shy. She’s less than a year old, but she’s already had a go of it.”

“What happened to her?” you asked gently, keeping your voice down so you wouldn’t startle her, “she looks so sad.”

“She was abused by her former owner, sadly. They found her when they went to raid the owner’s home, apparently he was a small time drug dealer on top of it,” he explained and you made a small in the back of your throat as you just looked at her. It made your heart break to know that this poor animal, and so many others like her, were being abused for no reason - not that anyone, person or animal, should ever have been abused, “it’s made her shy, but she does warm up to people.”

“What’s her name?” you asked as she moved ever so marginally closer to you. You smiled at her, giving her an encouraging little nod.

“Daisy.”

“Daisy,” you called softly as her ears perked up slightly. It suited her, you decided, a soft pretty name for a pretty girl, “hi sweet Daisy. You are a big lovebug underneath it all, aren’t you?”

She turned her slightly to look at as you offered her a small, reassuring nod. 

“How about Miss Daisy Mae?” you asked her and you got a glimpse of her tail wagging ever so slightly, “yeah, I think that’s perfect too. May I pet you?”

It was silent, completely so sans for the other dogs in their kennels as you attempted to gain her trust. You didn’t want to scare her off, but you wanted to see if you could get her to come closer. Lucas told you could stay as long as you wanted, and you decided that you would do just that, plopping onto your bottom as you gently spoke to her. You spent some time sitting there, talking to her about anything and everything, and slowly, inch by precious inch, she came closer to you until she was just a few inches from your hand. When you moved your hand and she didn’t flinch, you gently petted her muzzle, tracing over it delicately with a few fingers. 

“You’ve been through a lot,” you mused quietly and she gently rubbed her head into your hand, “but you’ve got so much life left to live. So many happy things to come. Would you like to come home with me and see? I have a big bed that I have all to myself, and I could really use a companion to take up some of the space. Would you like to help me?”

She made a small sound as she looked up at you, her tail wagging ever so slightly. That was enough to convince you that you were making the right decision. Giving Daisy one last gentle touch, you slowly pulled your hand back to keep from startling her and jumped to your feet. She was yours, it hadn’t taken much to figure that out, and you were going to make sure she came home with you. 

Telling her you would be back in a little bit, you went off in search of Lucas, to tell him to get you all the paperwork so you could bring her home with that day.

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as Daisy was all yours, you’d set her up in your car, draping a big, soft blanket over the backseat for her. You were glad you kept one in your car for whatever occasion called for it; this was the perfect time. As soon as she seemed to realize what was happening, Daisy’s eyes had lit up and she already seemed like a different dog, her tail going softly, but nonstop as she stayed close to your side. 

You’d stopped by the pet store on your way home, bringing her in with you as you stocked up on the best dog food, treats, several big fluffy beds (one for each room of the house naturally), and let her pick out several toys. Whatever she wanted she got, honestly, and before you knew it before pushing a huge cartful to the counter to the pay. Daisy, now in a pretty yellow collar and leash, followed closely by your side, a little stuffed bear in her mouth. This felt so right, so natural, almost like you had meant to find her. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had felt this much joy in your heart, and you hoped the feeling would never go away.

“And this is where we live,” you told her as you pulled into the driveway, pulling up to the garage and turning off the car. She stood up and went to the window, looking out eagerly. Your break broke a little when you realize she probably never got to run and play like any puppy should, but you vowed to change that. You got and opened the door, not even bothering to stop her as she jumped out and started to sniff everywhere. 

Sighing contentedly at the sight of the happy dog, the one that had quickly turned from nervous to optimistic, you started to gather everything out of the car to bring inside. Daisy came back to your side, following you with keen attention as you opened the door to the house and let her explore. 

It wasn’t until your last excursion to the car to bring in the last of the toys, that your attention wandered back to your MIA neighbor. When you studied his house, you noticed that all the lights were off, and there was no car in the driveway. The package you had you left for him was still right where you had placed that morning. A small, dejected sigh left your lips as you quickly dashed over and retrieved the package. It was only slightly heartbreaking,  but you knew it wasn’t due to any fault of yours. But still...you couldn’t help but wonder. Who was he? Where was he? Maybe one day your questions would be answered, but at least for now you had your new friend to keep you company. Just as you thought about her, you heard a small, almost tiny bark from your door as Daisy poked her head out and looked excitedly at you.

“Coming sweet girl!” you promised her as you ran back over to her. This day was decidedly not a waste in the slightest, you reminded yourself, you had a new friend and that was more important than anything else.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Several more days passed, and Daisy adjusted to life with you without a hitch. She really was the sweetest girl you had met, and she had won a big spot in your heart, and bed, almost instantly. Gone were the cookies you had baked for the neighbor you thought might not actually exist, eaten with some milk as you watched Netflix late into the evening with Daisy snoozing next to you. 

Something though, whatever little stubborn streak you had, told you to keep trying.

So you did.

That night you dragged yourself back to the kitchen and repeated the painstaking process of making your now neighborhood famous cookies again. He was going to get these cookies come hell or high water. This time Daisy joined you in the kitchen and watched your every move intently, as you walked her through the process, giving her your best impression of some lofty Food Network chef. 

Just as you had previously done earlier in the week, you prepped everything and stuck the same note on the top, making sure it looked perfect. Even if it ended up as another batch that you would eat, you wanted to go through the efforts and ensure it was perfect. 

The next morning, you herded Daisy into the car, allowing her to come to your office with you. She had been enjoying coming to your office and greeting your clients, being a good girl and laying on her bed while you worked. Many of them seemed to find her comforting, and as thought she could sense when they needed something, which she probably did, she’d often go to comfort them with wet kisses and nuzzles. Ally had suggested that you look into her having certified as a therapy dog, which you decided was a perfect idea. 

You wandered over to his porch and left the little package again and turned to head off to work. Whatever was meant to happen would happen. So if he didn’t come and get the cookies, so be it. You’d stop worrying about it and let it go. 

When you got home that evening, you brought everything inside and let Daisy into the backyard to roam around before her dinner time, when you looked through the front windows to try and see your neighbor’s porch. You huffed when you came to the conclusion that you were at just the wrong angle to be able to see anything. Stalking out the front door to get a better look, you sighed deeply when the package was once again there. What had you really expected? You’d struck out for weeks now, the man was an enigma to yourself and everyone else around, it was a far cry that you’d ever really see him. 

Grumbling at yourself for being too hopeful and optimistic, you trudged over to his porch, ready to take the cookies back again and enjoy them for yourself. Maybe you could bring them, and Daisy, over to Eddie and see if he would enjoy them and the dogs would get along. It wasn’t terribly exciting, but it was something anyway.

You bent down to pick up the small container, ready to head back home and get on with your day. But just as you swooped up the container, you heard the door unlock, causing you to jump back in surprise, dropping the container and letting it clatter to the ground. You took a step back and looked up, finding the door open, but the screen closed. Squinting your eyes, you tried to make out the person on the other side but found it almost impossible. 

“H-hi,” you stammered nervously, hoping the person wouldn’t think you were stealing or snooping around, “I-I moved into the neighborhood a few weeks ago, and I was just...I made cookies! I was going to introduce myself but I hadn’t seen you or anything, so I figured I’d leave them for you. They-they’re not old though, I made this batch last night.”

Nothing but silence met your ears for several moments as you nervously picked up the container to display it for him. You were nervous suddenly, terrified that you had somehow offended him, or...something.

“I-I’ll get going,” you said as you set the cookies on the bench that was near the door. Unsure why you felt the need to keep speaking you gave him your name, letting it linger in the air for a moment, “I live right next door, so I guess maybe I will see you around. Yeah...well, umm...goodbye!”

But before you made it off the porch, you heard the screen door open, and swing shut. You swallowed the lump in your throat, ready to turn around and make a proper introduction when you heard your name whispered so quietly, that you thought you might have imagined it. That voice...that soft, gentle voice caused your heart to skip a few beats. You knew that voice. 

Turning around slowly, you came face to face with the man that had been on your mind for weeks. You brought your eyes up to the man’s face and a small gasp of surprise left your lips. 

“F-Frankie?” except this wasn’t the Frankie you’d known. No, this man was tired looking, nothing but sheer exhaustion on his face, dark circles, parched lips, no trace of facial hair, his hair flattened from what you knew was a signature hat. This was a different man, a world weary man, a man who you never intended on seeing again. But you knew that voice, you knew it so well, you’d recognize it anywhere, even after all this time. But there was something about him, how he was looking at you that broke our heart. 

He remained silent as his dark eyes watched you, wondering how and why on earth you’d ended up as his neighbor. It was like some force was at play, some weird thing that kept bringing the two of you together. 

He remained silent as the two of you looked at each other, his eyes quickly flicked to your left hand. You straightened up when you noticed that and got ready to walk away, unsure of how to feel in that moment. Once again, your life was thrown in a complete tailspin. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, unable to find any words. 

But before you could leave his porch, his hand went to your wrist, taking it gently in his large hand as you immediately turned around and gave him a wide eyed stare.

Your chest was rising and falling rapidly as you looked at him in silent question, and he did the same. 

This was Frankie - your Frankie. After all these years, he was still yours.

Before either of you could say anything, he gently grabbed your face and studied it for a moment before crashing his lips onto yours. It took a moment for you to react, and for a few beats before you kissed him back, not even having to think about it. But just as quickly as it had started you came to your senses and while part of you was screaming to continue to kiss him, the logical part of your brain took over and you pushed him away from you. Immediately realizing what you were doing, he let go of you and took a step back. 

“Don’t,” you insisted sharply, your voice crackling on the singular word, “don’t. You don’t get to do that. I shouldn’t have done that. Not anymore. Never again.”

Before he could say anything, you dashed away from him, running back over to your house. This had to be some sort of weird dream, surely life couldn’t be throwing another challenge at you. Surely you’d been through enough.

Surely you weren’t neighbors, after all this time and years, with Frankie Morales. 

Life couldn’t be that cruel...right?

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[romioneficfest]

A Practical Stranger

Title: A Practical Stranger

Prompt/Day: Day 10 Movie/Book/TV Fusion (Grey's Anatomy - Season 5, Episode 1 "Dream a Little Dream of Me") and Day 14 Different Hogwarts Houses

Tumblr Name: 

Rating: T

Brief summary: Hermione receives assistance from someone who may not be as much of a stranger to her as she initially thinks.

Any possible triggering/warning tags: Mild language, graphic depiction of an injury

Hermione Granger strives for perfection in all aspects of her life. She prides herself in having been at the top of her Ravenclaw class at Hogwarts, and now an experienced and competent Healer at St. Mungo's.

She approaches healing magic like she did school; theoretical and by-the-book, not often straying away from wizarding methods that don’t have factual evidence behind it.

She doesn't consider herself to be an emotionally cold person — despite having colleagues describe her that way — but she also isn’t one to devote time developing personal relationships with her patients.

It's mid-January as she steps just outside of the hospital doors for some fresh air during a particularly stressful evening, and her lime-green robes fail to keep her from going numb in the cold. As Hermione reaches for her wand to cast a warming charm, her feet slip on a patch of ice beneath her shoe, sending her crashing back onto the solid, snowy pavement.

Hermione grunts in pain as she rubs the side of her head. It’s a bad day that has somehow gotten worse, and the forecast for improvement isn't faring well.

Try to focus on something calming.

Hermione’s eyes land on spikes of ice hanging above her. Little droplets of water fall from the tip of the centermost icicle onto her face. She's transfixed by the jagged, crystallized surface, combined with its pyramidal shape and transparent color.

A soft cracking sound shifts her attention, and she sees the icicle breaking free from its position. Before she can even move, the needle-sharp edge plunges down and punctures her straight through the stomach. A sharp pain ripples through her body and the intensity of the wound feels like a cold flame burning her nerve endings. The sensation numbs her to her core, stilling all movement, like she's just been petrified.

When she finally remembers to breathe, she sucks in a strangled gasp of air. Panic sets in as she realizes how difficult it is for her to breathe or even speak. Her hand flails through the white snow, searching for her wand that has somehow left her pocket.

Help. I need help, quick.

In the next moment, a tall, dark figure looms above her, and she wants to scream, but no sound comes out. All she can think about is the throbbing pain.

She barely registers her body being elevated up into the air. The unknown man hooks an arm under her knees and carries her at a swift pace into the hospital.  

His ginger hair and ocean blue eyes strike her with a sense of familiarity, and she wonders if they've ever met before.

It only takes her another second before she realizes — of course.

Ron Weasley. Gryffindor.

She knows of him from her time at Hogwarts and has certainly heard the stories of his escapades over the years with Harry Potter.

And yet, he's much different than she remembers from Hogwarts. She recalls him always being tall and lanky. Now, he has the strong build of an Auror, and the thought alone makes her cheeks redden.

A loud commotion and flurry of movement around her disrupts her inner thoughts, and she can see she is now in a full room with other Healers and Mediwizards.

"What happened?" She vaguely hears another witch call out.

"Just take it out," she moans as loud as she can muster. All she can think about is the pain and how she needs it to end.

"Leave it in!" Ron's stern voice demands beside her.

Hermione lets out the smallest of tuts, unimpressed by his attempt to call the spells when he is certainly not in the field of medicine. "Take it out!"

Ron's eyes lock on hers, and for a moment, she forgets that she's just been stabbed. Instead, the intensity of his gaze blinds her, and his clipped tone cuts through her just like the chip of ice did. "Leave it in."

Hermione decides she doesn't have the strength to argue further.

Ron speaks towards the Healers at a frustratingly low volume, and she grows concerned when they all shuffle out of the room, leaving her alone with the man who has flaming hair and a matching attitude.

"So, Hermione Granger."

"Ron Weasley."

His eyes brighten in surprise. "She recognizes me."

"It's not hard," Hermione shrugs, wincing as she tries to sit herself up on her cot without jostling the melting icicle. "Your red hair sticks out like a dirigible plum. What are you, an Auror, now?"

A small smile plays on his lips. "Something like that."

His cool tone sends a wave of heat through her body, and she doesn't think she can attribute it to her current puncture wound.

Hermione's trusty assistant-Healer, James, pops his head through the door. "Miss Granger, is everything alright—"

"Go find my chart," Hermione snaps at the young wizard. "I'll need to see a list of recommendations before I can allow anyone to proceed with any form of treatment."

He scrambles out the door just as fast, and Hermione turns her head to see Ron sending her an incredulous look with his eyebrows raised.

"What?"

"He seems pretty scared of you."

"I am not scary!"

Ron takes a step forward, then another, and then another. The pace of her heartbeat picks up, and she chastises herself for allowing this man to control her bodily reactions.  

"What are you doing?" Her breath is shaky and uneven.

Ron leans closer, so close that she smells the aftershave from his chin stubble. He's gazing at her like he's about to...

Just as fast, Ron yanks the icicle from her belly, resulting in a piercing screech from Hermione's lips. Ron flourishes his wand, and Hermione gazes at her stomach in awe as her wound grows smaller and smaller. The traces of fresh blood start to disappear, and the pain dissipates.

"What-you-just—"

"Took out your icicle? Yeah, I did."

Now that she is free of any pain aside from a dull headache, Hermione clenches her fists together out of anger. "Nobody gave you permission to do that!"

"So?"

"But you're not a—"

"Healer?" Ron finishes her thought with a knowing glance. "You know, our professions aren't so different. We both do what we can every day to save lives. It's not about being the best, or having the best marks in school. It's about the people."

Hermione closes her mouth, processing Ron's words. It's like he knows that other colleagues have gone around saying that Hermione has a "hairy heart" — cold and unfeeling.

"You needed my help, and that's what I do. That's what you do. We help people." Ron steps back, choosing instead to sit on the edge of her cot. "So, you're welcome."

Hermione chews on the inside of her lip, contemplating how to save herself from this embarrassing situation.

"You know, you're pretty tough," Ron continues.

Hermione scoffs, pushing her head back into her pillow. "I assure you, I am not."

"Really? Cause I think getting stabbed by an icicle, and still having the energy to yell at people, makes you a bloody badass."

Hermione's eyes go round from Ron's profanity. "A bloody…"

A teasing grin splits across his face. "Oh, don't tell me you're afraid to curse, Miss Granger."

"I am not!"

Ron crosses his arms, arching an eyebrow. "Then prove it. Say you're a bloody badass."

"I—"

Her hesitation only eggs him on further. "Do it."

One deep breath later, Hermione shouts out, "I'm a bloody badass!"

His pearly whites shine through, and Hermione finds the joy etched on his features. "Didn't it give you a rush of adrenaline?"

One exaggerated eye roll later, and Hermione mumbles, "Sure, it did."

"You know, Hermione, you could've been in Gryffindor."

Hermione pivots her head with piqued interest. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, you're brave, for one." Is that a blush she sees on his cheeks? Ron points to the faint outline on her stomach. "You've even got your own battle scar now to prove how tough you are!"

She has never thought of herself as brave, or courageous, or bold enough for that house. But now...

She's distracted by the sound of Ron's wand clicking the lock on the door. Her mouth opens to ask what in Merlin's name he's doing, when she's silenced by his lips on hers.

A startled gasp escapes her mouth, but she finds herself melting into his embrace, letting all rational thoughts leave her brain.

At the start of her work shift, she would've never guessed that she would end it recovering from a severe trauma while also kissing a practical stranger — yet, kissing him didn't feel unnatural at all.

When he pulls away, leaving her flushed dizzy, Hermione exclaims, "I barely even know you!"

Ron Weasley only responds with a challenging smirk and a single word. "So?"

[our-wargame]

when you say nothing at all

Summary: Dazai isn't called a genius for nothing. No one can self-sabotage better than he can.

Relationships: Dazai Osamu/Oda Sakunosuke (Bungou Stray Dogs) Characters: Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Oda Sakunosuke (Bungou Stray Dogs), Minor Characters, Sakaguchi Ango (Bungou Stray Dogs) Rating: M (to be safe. In reality it’s T except for the swearing and references to sexual stuff but there’s no actual sexual content) Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Additional Tags: Dazai Osamu is a Mess (Bungou Stray Dogs), Developing Relationship, Trust Issues, Slice of Life, Friends With Benefits, Light Angst, Self-Worth Issues, References of Sexual Content, As in 0 sex happening, although not for lack of trying on Dazai's part, That's Also His Biggest Mistake, I HATE THAT TAG BUT THAT IS THE FIC, Dazai's pretty trash but his greatest accomplishment, was getting Odasaku to love him Word Count: 2500 Notes:

co-written with SwordintheThrone (they have some ridiculously good shit, check em out.).

can be read on ao3

reblogs are appreciated ty

---

It's a shame that he has commitment issues, Dazai muses to himself. Because Odasaku isn't just the best fuck of his life, Odasaku is good to him.

Too good to him.

That's most of the problem. Odasaku will look at him, expression so gentle, so brilliantly sweet and patient and trusting, as if he doesn't think Dazai will rip him apart at the first sign he sees that as necessary. (Still, sometimes Dazai can stand it. Sometimes he even gives into it and the peace that comes with it hurts like a hell he could learn to adore.)

Is this self-sabotage? He doesn't know. And he's still fucking trash for pushing the issue away and ignoring it as he sends Odasaku a text to ask him if he's still not busy tonight.

Odasaku replies within the hour. I'm not, he confirms. Can I come over?

Dazai tries not to laugh, self-deprecatingly amused rather than annoyed at Odasaku's attempt to save him face. He's not that proud, he really isn't. 

He imagines if Odasaku were here, he'd tell Dazai that it has nothing to do with that. That Odasaku really does just want to spend time with him, and that's why during their last encounter, Odasaku casually, lightly mentioned the fact that he was free for the next week. Should they want to do anything. 

It is self-sabotage, Dazai comes to decide. Because no matter what Odasaku's intents were, Odasaku is going to end up in Dazai's bed, because Dazai desires it. And then Dazai won't be able to fool himself into either deciding the reason for this outcome is because Odasaku thinks Dazai knows himself well enough to make the right decision, or that Odasaku wants to give Dazai the choice to make bad ones.

Both options are better than thinking Odasaku just wants to fuck him. If he minded, which he doesn't, it'd be his own fault too. Everyone knows that you start texts with can we talk and not are you busy unless you want to bang.

Dazai closes his eyes, already tired of himself, even without having to pretend around Odasaku. He thinks about calling it off but that's rude and it'd make him look weak and it's all a lot more troublesome than going through with what he has so far. It's freezing but somehow, the heater is the one thing he doesn't have the energy to bother with as heg gets off his ass to fix up the apartment. He turns the TV on, keeps the volume nice and low on that channel that only replays old movies. Neither of them are wine people but that's what you're supposed to have for these kinds of occasions, aren't you? So he leaves a half empty bottle of sake on the coffee table. Lounges on the couch as he sips from his glass.

How classy is he.

A knock at the door. Odasaku knows it's already open and only does it to alert Dazai. But he still waits outside until Dazai calls, "Come in." It's so unnecessarily considerate of him, Dazai shivers. And hates Odasaku a little bit, even as he thinks about pushing Odasaku against the door and kissing the gentleman right out of him.

"Hey," Odasaku says as he closes the door behind him gently. He smells like takeout. Looks as rugged and handsome as ever. Dazai wants him so badly.

He moves his eyes to the TV as he puts down his glass so he can refill it. His hands are shaking, fuck. "Day go okay?"

"Yeah." Dazai listens for the sound of fabric shifting, Odasaku hanging his coat up on the hat rack. Soft steps signal Odasaku having taken off his shoes and switched them for slippers, walking light out of habit so they don't clack against the tiled floor. "And yours?" 

Dazai's half-distracted with trying to remember the last time they had sex for fun instead of thinking he needed Oda's body to make his own shut up. "It went okay," he replies to Odasaku, and it's a miracle he doesn't add, 'it's about to get better, I think.'

That would just be tacky.

He shifts on the couch, still a little chilly, but trying to signal Odasaku should come closer. 

"I brought you curry. And soup in case it's too spicy. Can I put it in the microwave?" 

Dazai blinks. His mouth starts curving up. "Odasaku, has anyone told you you're too polite."

"You probably haven't eaten." Odasaku easily ignores his teasing jab, placing the takeout on the kitchen counter but not quite walking behind it. "It's crab soup."

He hasn't eaten and yeah, he's a little hungry, and of course Odasaku knows all of this and brought him his favorite. But he doesn't like to eat before sex. It just makes him feel bloated and a little repulsed by himself.

Crab doesn't go with sake, he could try, only it does. He could try 'not in the mood for curry or crab', only Odasaku will probably ask him if it's okay to take a look at his fridge and make him something.

"I'm not hungry." He sips at his glass again. Isn't alcohol supposed to make you feel warmer? "Can I have a kiss?" He wants Oda's tongue burning up his mouth, wants Oda pinning him down and chasing the darkness out of him. It's a stupid thought. He humors it and waits for a reaction from underneath his lashes.

Odasaku's surprise is practically audible in the silence. Dazai starts to move over so the length of his gangly body stretches across the couch, then puts his elbows on the armrest and props his head up to watch Odasaku. Please?

Odasaku closes in slowly, but Dazai finds himself holding his breath, nervous anyways. He can feel his heart in his throat, feels it pulse when Odasaku bends down, warm hand sliding up Dazai's face, cupping his chin. Dazai tilts it up as his eyes fall closed.

And then his breath catches, when Odasaku kisses his forehead instead.

He blinks and Odasaku's already straightening. Retreating to give Dazai space.

"Odasaku...." That's not what he wanted, but-

Odasaku prods his elbow and Dazai takes the cue, pulling his limbs back and sitting up straight. Odasaku takes a seat besides him, their shoulders a couple of inches from touching. Looks at the TV as he says, "Can I hold you for a bit?"

He has to think about this one. Says, "okay," even as he thinks about how he doesn't really want to be touched, at least not if it isn't Odasaku pushing Dazai onto his back.

Odasaku shifts his weight forwards so he's sitting on the edge of the couch and able to comfortably reach for the coffee table. He pushes Dazai's  glass inwards- farther from Dazai- and then picks up the remote. When he readjusts his sitting position again, he's still sitting a few meaningful inches away from Dazai. And now he's left his arm stretching over the top of the couch.

It's such a date move, except it's them. Odasaku is doing this for Dazai.

He hates Odasaku a little more in the moment. He hates feeling inconvenient, because it's a reminder he cares about what Odasaku thinks. The desperation of his attachment- he's so fucking weak, it's pathetic. God, he disgusts himself. 

"Are you getting enough sleep?" Odasaku asks. Dazai is still leaning away from his arm, but he's not breathing as hard and so he supposes, this is good.

"No." He hasn't. Before they started their arrangement, Dazai would have answered that with a smirk, an 'is Odasaku coming on to me or am I still daydreaming?' 

The stunt actors throwing themselves across the TV screen are alright. If this were also back then, Dazai would poke Odasaku, tease and bet that he could do it better. Oda would consider it in his seriousness and Ango would scold them both into the next year. Everything's different now and he's not sure if he likes it or loathes it, even though having to ask himself which one it is, is pretty determining. 

Five minutes is how long it takes for him to finally calm down, enough to shift and holds himself against Odasaku's side. Odasaku radiates warmth. The rise and fall of his chest is steady. Dazai tries to ignore it. His neck prickles.

Some more minutes trickle by before Odasaku murmurs, "Can I take you to bed?"

"No," Dazai blurts out immediately, because he understands what Oda is saying, but the answer is no because it'd stress him out, be even worse than the little fiasco going on right now. He'd have to try and force himself to sleep around someone who should be a source of comfort and failing that would just be gloriously useless of him-

"Okay." Odasaku says, gentle. "No worries." A pause. "Would it help to invite Ango over?"

Dazai breathes. It would. He can put on a front if it's for people, if it's for friends. It's harder to put on a show if it's for individual people; he has to make sure their gears mesh together but they're so damn complicated. Odasaku more so, than most. 

"We should drag him out of the house a little more."

Dazai opens his mouth. It's not you, he wants to say, urgent, needy for someone else to know what he does. Odasaku, you're not the one making me uncomfortable, it's me.

"Maybe you can teach us how to make hot pot?" 

Dazai wants to yell. Fall apart out loud for a change. They're monsters, not shadow puppets on the wall, and they don't go away when the sun comes up or what their parents say it's bedtime, for real this time. Oda's trying too hard, and it aggravates him. 

Odasaku can't wrap his arms around him and make him okay. That's never going to be him. He's afraid that Odasaku still doesn't know that, and he doesn't know what Odasaku will do when he really, really understands this. Even if Odasaku doesn't leave, Dazai can't stand the thought of Odasaku suddenly thinking less of him. It'll be just like losing him.

"Dazai?"

He shakes himself out of it. "Yeah. Call him." He pauses. "Can I have the crab soup after all?" He's still not completely ready to hug it out with the idea of eating, but it'll give him something to do.

Oda rises. Dazai stares at the grace, the strength in the lovely curve of his back. He feels cold all over again.

Oda glances over and holds his hand out. Dazai stares at it for a second before he lets Oda lead them away, carrying the two empty glasses with him in his free hand. Dazai pulls away to work on transferring the takeout into bowls to send them off to the microwave while Oda runs the glasses under tap water, swishing the residue round and round before drinking it down and then washing them clean.

The smell of reheated curry overpowers the room. Oda watches Dazai drop into a chair and then watches Dazai plop spoonfuls of curry rice into his soup, stirring this way and that.

"Did you know," Odasaku says, and Dazai looks up at him. "You have happy-cat face."

Dazai sputters. "I'm sorry, I have what?"

"Happy-cat face."

"Odasaku," He purses his lips, but he can't stop his shoulders from shaking. "Odasaku, that's not a thing."

Odasaku keeps his gaze, the slightest rise of his eyebrow explaining yes it is because you have it.

"You're so silly. Did you know that?"

Odasaku hums. When he dials Ango, he places his phone on the dinner table. Dazai's eyes gleam as he shouts like he's from the next city over.

"Oh my god," Ango's voice is very grumbly. "Odasaku-san, please remove me, I think he broke my ear."

Oda turns off loudspeaker and brings the phone against his ear. "So when are you coming over?"

"Ugh, give a man twenty-minutes. I still have work to do."

Dazai throws himself into Oda's side, squashing his face against Oda's other cheek as he chirps, "Tell him all work and no play makes Ango grouchy. And that he has old-man energy."

"Tell Dazai-kun, I think his Brat Card should have an expiration date."

"Tell Ango, there isn't an expiration date on fun~"

"Tell Dazai-kun-"

Oda disentangles himself from his executive, passing him the phone and letting them go at it. Dazai sits back down, adjusting himself so he can bring his knees up to his chest and leave his feet on the chair seat. Even as he chatters away, he keeps his eyes on Oda, who moves to wash out the takeout containers. He reuses everything because he's an environmental dork. Dazai would be more of one if he wasn't interested in dying before the planet. Still, watching Oda so patient, quietly determined to withstand the overpowering...it makes Dazai soften.

"Hey, is Odasaku-san still there?"

"Nope." Dazai says, popping the p. "Odasaku is busy. Being perfect."

"Yeah, yeah. Why don't you two just get married already? Make it official and everything."

He doesn't recover as quickly as he'd have liked. "Ango, weddings are not good places to pick-up women. They're all crazy. And non-sober. And crazy. We'll find you your little lady elsewhere, don't you worry." He watches Odasaku shake off the excess water into the sink, wiping the counter dry and putting the containers to the side. Then he dries his hands, he drifts over to the living room and picks up the remote.

"Ha. Not that I wouldn't reject your delightful request to be your best-man, but are two groomsmen allowed to be each other's best man? I think so." 

"Has anyone ever tell you not to drink on the job, Ango?"

"Speaking of which, you'll have alcohol waiting for me, right? I had to train a new accountant today. If it was there, you would have fainted from the painfulness."

"Delightful. So. How much longer?" He'd really like for there to be someone other than Odasaku around him.

"That depends. I don't want to walk in on you two fucking."

Dazai sighs into the receiver. "It's not my fault. Odasaku has a really nice dick."

He can practically hear Ango roll his eyes. "Don't expect me anytime soon then."

"So. Fifteen minutes?"

"Yeah, alright. See you dumbasses then."

There's no immediate beep! Ango is waiting, letting him end the call. Dazai shakes his head. His friends are really something.

Odasaku keeps flicking through the TV channels, only looking up when Dazai leans over the couch from behind, gently resting his chin on the top of Odasaku's head.

"Hi."

"Odasaku's hair is really soft."

"Thank you."

"Odasaku smells very nice. Like mango-watermelon. And curry."

"Thank you." Oda sits very still so he can hand Dazai the remote without jolting him. "What do you want to watch?" 

Dazai breathes. In, out. "Anything is fine."

[yeojaa]

( GHOST IN MY BED. )

Sometimes, hating someone is the only thing you can do.

pairing.  jjk x named f!reader.  a bit of jhs x named f!reader (but not really)?

genre + rating.   rockstar!au.  e2l (exes n enemies!).  general flangst?  anguf?  a blend of angst and fluff, tbh.  mainly angst tho.

tags / warnings.  sibling dynamics, introspective sadness, talk about not-so-healthy relationships (obviously), dumbass!jk, asshole!jk, jealous!jk, how many more jk tags can i add?, a silly reference to scott pilgrim.  nothing serious. 

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​ aka the loml!!!

wc.  3.1k

chapter four.

You and Yoongi don’t fight.  It’s always been a point of pride - something to look at and smile on. 

That must be why it feels so terrible now, with his knuckles blown white and enough rage to start a war simmering within his veins.  You’ve never seen him like this:  a world away from your soft Yoon, your best friend, your beloved brother.

“Yoongi, really--” 

“No.  Stop saying that.”  Despite the fact that you know his anger isn’t directed at you - that you’re the farthest target in his mind - it still hurts, like getting caught in friendly fire.  Pinpricks of guilt spill across your skin, nerve endings shot to hell by the way his mouth curls and tears, venom laced between his teeth and draped across his tongue.  “He came here and you didn’t tell me?  I told you - I’ll kill him.”

Hyperbole, you’re sure, but you can’t help the way your heart stutters.  A little oh no for a boy who doesn’t deserve it - whose silhouette still carves a spectacularly painful hole in your chest.

“I didn’t want you to worry--”  It’s not an excuse.  It’s not meant to be.  You never lie to Yoongi.  Frankly, you don’t think you could.  

“You’re my sister.”

It’s enough of a rebuttal that you’re reduced to silence.  He’s right.  You’re family;  family don’t keep secrets.

“I’m sorry,”  you try again, feeble and emphatic.  

There’s an unbearable distance between you - a sea’s worth of sadness that rocks the rickety boat you’ve built.  You can practically see it stretching on and on, sweeping you further and further from his safe shores.  It’s an awful feeling. 

“You’re my sister,”  he repeats, suddenly so tired you worry for him.  For once, he looks that much older than you, as if five years have forced passages of experience within his pages.  “You can’t hide things from me.  Who’s going to be there for you if not me?”  

You want to rebuff him - insist that you’re stronger than he gives you credit for - but you know it’s not what he means.  More than anyone, Yoongi believes in you.  He sees your strength even when you can’t see your own;  he’s been that strength more times than you can count.  

The reality of your situation isn’t lost on you.

He’s the only one who knows everything you’ve been through.  A diary in living breathing form, full of your most shameless secrets, your deepest worries, your worst heartbreaks.  

“I know.”  Apology threads each syllable, stitches them neatly to each other.  The sincerity is blinding, bright white and earnest.  “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”  

The smile he offers is rueful, twisting the edge of his mouth in a manner you’ve adopted over the years.  You return it without thought and then, all at once, the expanse is closed.  He’s laughing - a sound that doesn’t ring true in the way you know it should - but it’s a laugh and you know everything is okay.

“Still worried,”  he returns with a quiet sigh and flick of his wrist.

You’re with him in a breath, curled against his side on the couch you’d cried yourself to sleep on just days ago.  While you’re both far closer in size than you’ve ever been - you were always a tiny kid growing up, even against Yoongi’s own slim frame - it’s reminiscent of your childhood and being caught beneath haphazardly strewn sheets and disorganised chaos in the form of blanket forts.

Dry lips find a home against the side of your head, his arm dragging you to warmth.  “You’re an idiot, you know.”  He says it in the way only an older brother can - with all the frustration and love in the world.  

You do know, intimately well, how idiotic you are.  Have been.  Seemingly always will be.

“I know,”  you mumble, sad into the raised hood of your sweater.  “But I made him leave.”  It sounds like a child begging for praise - to be told they’ve done well.  You won’t deny you need it now.  

Good is the first thing Yoongi says, a little flippant and with a hard set of his jaw.  More comes when he catches your expression and the way the dent forms between your brows, the tiny pout of your lips.  It’s the same face you’ve made all your life - one that hits him right behind the ribs like a Whack-A-Mole game at the carnival.

“You did good, Vivi.  I’m proud of you.”  They’re bandages, sticky and adhesive on the stitches Jungkook’s visit had torn open.  “You’re great and he’s…”  There are words he’d like to use - a million scathing adjectives to paint the asshole in technicolour - but he knows better.  Knows you can’t take it, at least not right now.  “He doesn’t deserve you.  You get that, right?  You’re better off without him.”

You nod against his side but offer nothing further.  The silence speaks worrying volumes.

“You’re not going to answer him again, right?”  

Some half-mumbled non-committal response comes.  Yoongi wants to tear his own hair out.  Better yet, he wants to tear yours out.  Instead, he blows a long exhale through his nose, free hand coming to scrub across his face.  When will you learn?  

“I’m scared.”

It’s so quiet even you hardly hear it, ear tucked against the cotton of Yoongi’s flannel.  You think, for a moment, maybe he’s missed it too.  Then he squeezes you a little tighter:  a silent reassurance.

“Seeing him again just brings back so many memories.”  Every other word is muffled but it’s the most you can do.  Courage is carried quietly - too loud and you’ll shatter it.  “I thought three years would be enough.  It should be, right?”

It’s a rhetorical question;  Yoongi still debates answering it, just for his own sake.

“Maybe he’s changed.  Or maybe I’ve changed.  It could be different.”  It’s a clandestine belief and one you shouldn’t speak to life - especially to your brother.  It spills forth of its own accord, wrong for so many reasons but begging to be asked.  You have no control over it and the hope it sows somewhere within your chest.

“You can’t actually believe that.”  

It’s infinitely more scathing than Hoseok’s reaction, tearing out of Yoongi’s mouth like a bullet.  You can’t help the way you frown, brows drawn and lips pursed.  You’ve known Yoongi your whole life.  Reading between the lines feels like you’re fucking stupid but you know it’s not quite so harsh.  A frustrated you dumb idiot, maybe.

“Don’t make that face.”  

“I’m not making any face.”  

“Yes, you are.  It’s the same one you made when I embarrassed you on your first date.  Also the one you made after you threw up all over Hoseok’s shoes the first night you met him.”  The recollection doesn’t help your cause - you’re grimacing even more deeply, chagrin spilling into misery in the form of red hot heat over your cheeks.  “Don’t resent me for being realistic, Vivi.  You know he hasn’t changed.”

The silence is childish.  You know that.

“You can’t fix people.”

He arrives with flowers.  Two full bunches of your favourite blooms - pretty peonies in shades of coral and lavender.  They’re heavy in his arms, held so gingerly it’s almost comical as he extracts himself from the vehicle he most definitely should not be driving.  He wonders whether you’ll be home - if he’ll get to see your expression when he presents them to you.  He hopes you’ll light up, brighter than the sun in the sky and better than any nightlight.  

What he doesn’t expect is someone walking up the sidewalk, gym bag slung across his shoulder like he’s getting ready to settle in for a long night.  Short - atleast a few inches shorter than himself - with a stupid face that makes Jungkook want to punch it.  Dumb shoes, too.  Who the fuck wears Off-White Jordan 1s in that colourway?

There’s a permanent scowl etched across his face as he watches from behind the tinted comfort of his car, single hand caught around the edge of the door.  He’s vaguely aware of the fact that he’s perhaps crushing the stems cradled in his arms, inked knuckles blown white around quickly crumpling brown paper.

Maybe he’s your neighbour.  Or maybe he’s going to the other house or maybe—

No, he’s definitely walking right up the front path.

The words are out before Jungkook can stop them, shouted into the quiet afternoon more loudly than he anticipates.  “Hey!”

Dumbass with the face turns, full of surprise and wandering eyes.  He hesitates halfway up your stoop, looking stupider than ever as he looks around for the source of the voice.  

Then his stare falls on the brunet with his hands full and it’s like a flip has switched - mouth hardening into a line that raises the hairs on the back of Jungkook’s neck.  He’s glaring at him (or something close to it).  

Seriously - who is this fucker?

“Can I help you?”  Hoseok speaks far more reasonably, at an octave that doesn’t shatter the peace of the residential neighbourhood.  He’s still caught on the steps, fist tight around the strap of his bag as he studies the man - no, boy - that jogs up to meet him, two rungs the only thing separating the two of them.

“Do you know Vira?”

A part of Hoseok flinches at Jungkook’s casual use of your name - like he knows you or deserves to address you like an old friend.  This kid really was clueless.

When he speaks, he’s perfectly composed, tension held tight behind his teeth.  “I said, can I help you?”

Jungkook bristles at the response, some snarky comment threatening to knock the other off his apparent high horse.  He barely catches it, grinding it down into a fine powder beneath his molars.  He has to tread lightly here. 

“I’m a friend of hers.”  Not a lie, per se.  You two were friends;  after all, you’d come when he’d called.  That meant something, right?  Had to. 

“A friend?”  Disbelief slips into place, evident in the tone of Hoseok’s voice, how his brows shift beneath his chestnut fringe.  He knows better than to believe Jungkook - has heard all the heartbreaking stories - but he can’t quite keep the worry from worming it’s way into his thoughts.  They settle uncomfortably, just beneath the surface. “Is she expecting you?”

Everything about Hoseok makes Jungkook hate him.  From the sneakers he wears to the watch on his wrist - understated, all gold, more expensive than a nerd like him should have - there’s something undoubtedly punchable about him.

It certainly has nothing to do with the fact that he’s seemingly close with you.  Definitely not.

“I was going to surprise her.”  The flowers are held aloft, gesticulated in the best manner Jungkook can manage with his arms so full.  “I didn’t know she was expecting you.”  It’s a cheap tactic - recycling words - but he can’t think of much else beyond fitting his foot into this guy’s mouth.

“She’s not.”  Sharp, sparse, with no hint of indulgence.  Hoseok’s not about to get into a verbal sparring match with Jungkook.  It’s not worth his time.  

He is, however, going to put him in his place - and easily at that.

“She’s still at work.”  Slim bundle of keys rise - two unassuming and one for an Audi.  Perhaps unnecessary but Hoseok takes great pleasure in the other’s expression.

Tch is Jungkook’s first thought before the second smacks him straight in the face.  He has a key to your place?  The fact rubs him all the wrong ways despite the fact that he has no right to be bothered;  it isn’t his home any more - hasn’t been in years.  It still hurts, though, right behind his ribs and all the way down to the tips of his fingers.

Is this how you felt all those times?  

Something like nausea builds in Jungkook’s stomach, throwing acid up the walls of his throat.  It burns and strings, licking painfully all the way into his mouth.  His teeth ache - buzz uncomfortably - and his tongue feels suddenly far too heavy.  He wonders if he might choke on it.

Then, slowly, in a voice he doesn’t recognise.  Too soft, years younger, uncertain.  “Can you give these to her?”  He hates it.

He hates even more the way Hosoek looks at him, with such pity Jungkook wants to curl it around his fist and break the older man’s teeth with it.  It’s something he’s seen a handful of times - from you, from your brother, from his worried mother when she thinks he doesn’t notice.  It never gets easier. 

It forces him into a position he hasn’t been in in years:  weak.

“I don’t think so.”  By how calmly Hoseok speaks, it’s almost as if he’s commenting on the weather or passing along a banal bit of information.  It’s far too nonchalant to be breaking Jungkook’s heart, splitting it cleanly in two.

“Why not?”  Jungkook’s petulant, a child denied his favourite toy, forced into time-out.  

That’s not for you screams Hoseok’s expression.  She’s not for you.  “I’m not comfortable with doing so.”  

The sinking feeling hasn’t stopped for Jungkook.  It goes and goes until he wishes he were six feet under, buried under ground as low as he feels.  He should leave.  He knows he should leave - if only to stop the discomfort that’s gripping every nerve, twisting them like an elbow about to snap.  

“Anyway.”  There’s boredom working its way into Hoseok’s stare, relaxing the shape of his mouth until it falls wide around a short, terse sigh.  “If you’re friends, you can get in touch and drop them off later.”  

He’s done playing gatekeeper - can feel his frustration bubbling to the surface in a way he’s not about to entertain.  He nods once, dismissive, before turning away from the so-called rockstar that seems terribly small and the farthest thing from it.

“Goodbye.”  Then he’s disappearing into your home, leaving Jungkook on the steps with his tail between his legs.

You return home three hours later - blissfully unaware of what’s transpired.  

You set your dinner on the kitchen island, deftly unpacking takeout boxes as Hoseok hurries to your side to help.  You don’t mind when he bumps into you, knocking his hip against yours with a heart-shaped smile.

It burns a little brighter than usual.  “Good day?”  

He hums in response, sneaking a yellow tomato from the salad box he’s just popped open.  “Something like that.” 

“Something like that?”  You can’t help but echo him, a pretty parrot with shining eyes and a silk bow in your hair.  “Don’t play coy, Jung Hoseok.”  A digit closes the minimal distance between you, finding purchase against his side - right where he’s most ticklish.

He shrieks, nearly upending the fries he’s tried to dump onto a ceramic plate.

“Hey!”  Hands swat, then fold, catching your fingers between his in an awkward hand-hold.  “Keep your hands to yourself, Vi.” 

“You don’t complain normally,”  you retort.  You’re not wrong.  Skinship with you is one of his favourite things, fourth only to his dog, dancing, and a certain green-labelled soda.

“Well, today’s a special day.”  

Hoseok really doesn’t know where he’s going with his words - only hoping that he’ll find their destination somewhere along the way.  He doesn’t want to tell you too soon, all too aware of how the mention of your ex will bring this perfect moment crumbling down.  He wants to hold it, perhaps a little too tightly, for as long as he can.  He thinks he’s doing you a service, giving you these few extra minutes.

“Oh yeah?”  You’re twinkling eyes and pealing laughter, so far removed from the bag of bones and sadness of only days prior.  It’s hard to believe there’s something broken inside of there - tucked right behind your breastplate and out of sight.

“Yeah.”  

You wait for him to continue, opting instead to fill the silence with mouth noises.  He’ll tell you when he’s ready.  He always does.  

“Jungkook came by.”  It comes halfway through a bite of a french fry, the carb nearly bringing you to an early death when you choke on it.  All at once, everything spins, as if just the name is enough to upend your entire world.  Hoseok’s clapping your back, rubbing soothing circles over the cotton of your shirt, and you’re struggling to find words or breath - heaving around the sudden heaviness.

“What?”  So small, it’s hardly a word.

“He was here when I got here.”  You’re not oblivious to the careful way he speaks, choosing his words with utmost care.  You don’t miss his grip either, gentle and unyielding at your side - as if he might steady you beneath the sudden tidal wave of emotion.  

You do well, keeping your voice level once you’ve found it again.  “And?  What did he want?”

Hoseok does you the great service of pretending as if he doesn’t hear the hope in your voice.  You’re grateful for that. 

“He came with flowers.”  Not quite a laugh comes - more unimpressed and derisive than amused.  “Two bouquets, actually.”  You can feel him studying you from your periphery, his careful stare trained on your face and the dozen emotions that run rampant through it.  “Your favourite flowers too.”

Your laugh matches his own, though far heavier, as if the sound won’t form without immense effort.  “Wow.”

“Yeah.”  It’s a word you’ve heard a lot tonight.  It feels right.  One syllable to encompass every feeling you can’t properly articulate.  “He asked me to give them to you.”  

It should surprise you but it doesn’t.  Jungkook’s never been one to ask - instead taking what he wants - but it’s still funny.  Of course he’d ask that of Hoseok, as if the act itself weren’t terribly strange, the flowers an unwelcome, begging apology.  Jeon Jungkook only did what he wanted - etiquette be damned.

“I don’t see them anywhere.”  

“I told him I wasn’t comfortable doing it.”  There’s a touch of pride, glimmering gold painted over consonants and vowels.  It’s understated in the way that Hoseok always is - not how he looks, but is;  you’re drawn to it nonetheless, squeezing your fingers around his own in a silent thank you.

“I hope it wasn’t weird.”  It must have been.  It’s still the thought that counts.

Hoseok hams it up, scoffing like it’s just been another day.  “Weird?  Of course not.  I have to deal with my friend’s horrible exes all the time.  I’m practically Scott Pilgrim.”  

“Does that make me Ramona Flowers?”  

“No - but you’re my flower.”  He says it in jest, only to make you smile, because he knows you need it right now.

You try not to think of how you prefer Pumpkin, instead.

tag list.  @jalexad @aa-ronpa @kookiesbreaky @celestialflamefairy @xjoonchildx @pars-ley @seokjinssi @youwannabelostandnotbefound @patpus @dazedjjk @koozui @jinhitwhore @always-wishing-for-rain @neverthefirstchoice @snackhobi 

[notchesandbullets]

Saving Her (Ojiro Mashirao x Wolf!Reader)

Part 5: Mall trip with the girls plus Kaminari, Shoji and Ojiro as you’re all followed by your scruffy homeroom teacher that would much rather sleep than chaperone you all. It’s not exactly what you expected when you’re cornered the second you’re left alone. 

Word Count: 5k

Warning: harassment

Excited shrieks filled the air and you would've cringed at the ringing the loud volume had on your sensitive ears if you weren't so excited yourself. Shooting down the hallway at lightning speed, the girls passed the two of you in a flash to get to the first floor of the dormitory, leaving you and Ojiro alone.

He laughed, then extended a hand out to you in a silent invitation. You took it without so much as a pause and the two of you started to head downstairs.

Then he frowned as something unwelcome popped up in his head. "The mall is pretty crowded this time of day."

It was still light outside since they were just let out of school. He knew there was going to be a lot of people and didn't know how well you fared in a crowd. You seemed extremely jumpy, especially around strangers and he didn't want to put you in a position where you felt uncomfortable.

Swinging your joined hands leisurely, you tugged it a little to gain his attention. "I think I should be okay."

He squeezed your hand once and made a mental note to ensure your safety while you were out. Those people were probably still looking for you. He would've gone by himself but he had a feeling you weren't going to let him. Not to mention, you hadn't been exposed to all the wonderful things this world had to offer.

And he was going to introduce you to all of them. Starting with the mall that held endless amounts of entities to entertain you.

When you arrived on the common floor, you were surprised to see Shoji and Kaminari waiting along with the girls. Ojiro had texted them, asking if they wanted to come with.

"Ojiro!!" Kaminari waved excitedly, bounding up to you. "Can we tag along?"

"If it's not too much of a bother." Shoji interjected, folding his duplicate arms over his chest. "We'd like to accompany you."

They were asking more for your benefit than his.

"Sure!!" Ojiro responded after sharing a look with you to make sure it was okay. "We'll need a car though to get there since taking a train isn't an option if we're bringing back a bed. Uh, does anyone know how to drive?"

Since no one raised a hand, they didn't have much of a choice and took a trek to the private room near the dormitory. A separate office building for the homeroom teachers.

Aizawa opened the door to his designated study and raised an eyebrow at the sight before him. You were standing on the other side, along with all the girls from Class 1-A, Ojiro, Kaminari and Shoji.

After you explained your plan to your homeroom teacher/temporary guardian, he begrudgingly agreed to take you all there, renting out a van large enough to hold the group of ten children and one very tired adult.

Since you were all minors, you needed to be escorted by a guardian after school let out. That was a new measure of safety instilled by the principal since the USJ incident and the attack at the training camp.

Naturally, Aizawa was the most suitable choice since he was the only adult who could tolerate all of you and your craziness on a daily basis.

The disgruntled teacher wandered around his office to collect his bag and capture weapon, grabbing something else on the way out.

To keep you from attracting too much attention, he had insisted that you cover your ears and hide your tail. He lent you a scarf but it didn't do much. Because you go excited easily, your ears would perk up and the fabric would fall off, usually blocking your vision.

He would've thought it was endearing if he wasn't busy worrying about how easily you could be kidnapped in a soft target, like the huge mall they were going to. It would be hard to protect you.

You came up with a solution. After you wrapped his scarf around your head, you put up the hood of Ojiro's hoodie to secure it, raising your arms cheerfully at your success.

His smile, borderlining on fond, faded as you bounded away towards Jirou. It wasn't like him to show so much emotion in front of his students and he needed to correct it before it got out of hand and he was subjected to, heaven forbid, his students' teasing.

Instead, when you were out of earshot, he instructed Ojiro not to leave your side. His student replied back that he wasn't planning on it since this was for your benefit. Not to mention, he really didn't want to be anywhere else besides your side.

Aizawa glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as his students piled into the van, noticing the color on the usually calm and composed teenager's cheeks for the very first time.

He shook his head, guessing what was going on relatively easily.

Kids these days.

Thirty very long minutes later, he had barely parked when the side door was being thrown open and you were practically dragged out by a very enthusiastic Ashido and Hagakure while a worried Yaoyorozu shouted for them to slow down.

Ojiro raced to catch up with them and Aizawa sighed, motioning for Shoji who had stayed seated out of consideration for him, that it was safe to leave now that he had turned the vehicle off.

Your eyes lit up with awe at the huge building before you packed with people that you were guessing was unique for a weekday judging by the expression on Jirou's face.

"This is pretty weird," She mused, tapping an earphone jack to her chin absentmindedly before dropping it in realization, expression clearing. "Ah, that explains it."

Following her gaze, you saw several signs advertising a huge sale taking place in most of the stores today in honor of Hero Day. You had no idea it was Hero Day, let alone that such a thing existed.

Together, you all eagerly ducked inside.

Aizawa lagged behind, not able to keep up with the energetic bunch. He opted for doing surveillance since he really didn't want to be here, but that was until you had begged him with puppy eyes to come along with.

And although he was tired and didn't really want to walk around and have to talk to people, he agreed for your sake. Warmth bloomed in his chest as he watched you interact with Yaoyorozu and Kaminari, and a fond smile pulled at the edge of his mouth.

Yeah, as long as it was you, he didn't mind.

Shoji soon broke off to go find some free weights that were at an acceptable price, and Asui and Uraraka tagged along with him as Yaoyorozu, Ashido and Hagakure high-tailed it into a fashion store.

Jirou tagged along with you, Ojiro and Kaminari, having nothing better to do and not really wanting to go off on her own.

Hands stuffed in his pockets, Aizawa trailed behind you as you walked towards the home goods store.

You wanted to laugh so badly.

Kaminari, Ojiro, Aizawa and Jirou were all positioned in a way around you that made you think they were your bodyguards. They certainly were acting like it.

Although, it was really cute how Kaminari was playing with Ojiro's tail, the latter being conscious not to move it too much unless it was to tickle his face.

Pure and wholesome.

Unbeknownst to you, Aizawa had already warned off several creepers with a sharp look that could kill. He didn't know why these guys decided to try their luck with you but he wasn't going to let them lay a finger on you.

Ojiro had grasped your hand the instant you stepped in the crowded mall and hadn't let go yet. You liked how his hand in yours felt, but you didn't want to feel like he needed to protect you all the time. You felt like it was a lot of trouble for him.

Although, the sentiment was sweet.

Once you got in the home goods store, you ran off towards the beds, shouting over your shoulder that you would be right back and that they could stay there. You knew exactly what you were going to get, you had seen it online just the other day and it was perfect.

Ojiro immediately went to go after you but you had promised to be back in a minute.

Kaminari toyed with the fluffy end of Ojiro's tail while they waited for you to finish picking out what you wanted. Jirou struck up a conversation with Aizawa about something he had taught in the lesson earlier that she still didn't quite understand, and that led to an in-depth but concise spontaneous lecture.

Ojiro's eyes didn't stray from where you had disappeared, waiting for you to come back. The area only had one entrance and exit, so no one could get you without them noticing at least.

But as a couple minutes passed, he was getting more worried. The more logical side of his brain told him that he was being irrational but he didn't care.

"Dude, she's only been gone for a few minutes, I'm sure everything's fine." Kaminari reassured him as his tail jerked out of his hand, flicking nervously back and forth.

But Ojiro shook his head, already making his way over to the back of the store where you most likely were.

"Jirou!!" He shouted over his shoulder, ignoring the strange looks he got as he called to his friend. "Where is she?!"

She looked puzzled, breaking off Aizawa with a quick apology. "What?"

"I... I've got a bad feeling," Ojiro couldn't explain it well but his eyes were frantic. "Can you find her?!"

Jirou shot him a look that said he was overreacting but obliged anyways, understanding where his concern was stemming from. "Yeah, of course, give me one second."

Plugging her jack into the floor, her brow knitted in concentration. Kaminari looked on and would've been impressed yet again by her quirk if she hadn't suddenly shot up to her feet, nearly knocking into his chin.

Jirou didn't offer the boys any explanation as she sped left, veering off to a part of the store Ojiro had completely missed before.

"This way!! Hurry!!"

They tore after her and catching on quickly, Aizawa dashed after them.

They may have only been his students inside the classroom but at this point he couldn't help but worry about them outside of it. He caught up to them within seconds, his strides longer than theirs, but what he saw as they all rounded the corner made his blood boil.

And the rage on Ojiro's face was portraying the exact level he felt.

You were being cornered by three boys who were much bigger than you, your hood off and scarf discarded on the floor, revealing the flattened ears against your head. Your tail was bristling as they advanced further, giving away your distress as though it wasn't already rolling off of you in waves. You were snarling at them, baring your canines threateningly but they continued to sling suggestive and hateful comments at you.

"Oooo, a wolf quirk, huh? You want me to call you puppy?" One of them sneered.

His buddy egged him on. "You have heats? I bet I could help you with that, baby."

"Freak." The last one spat, clearly angered for a reason you didn't understand.

You were close to tears but you didn't want them to get the satisfaction of seeing you cry. That was easier said than done as the angry one yanked your tail. Pain spiked through your body and you clapped a hand to prevent you from screaming as tears slipped down your cheeks.

"Aw, look. Puppy's crying." The big one taunted, smirking. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you."

You snarled, though it lost its potency as you cried. "Get the hell away from me."

They poked and prodded you, egging you on until you felt like dying of humiliation.

They caught you off guard. It all happened so quickly, you didn't know where they came from. One minute you were looking at merchandise and the next, your front was pinned against the wall. You were able to get out of their hold before they did anything, but you weren't able to escape them entirely.

Cut off from your only escape route from the back of the store where there were literally no other people, you buried your face in your hands, wanting nothing more than to fight your way out of here but were held back by a deep-rooted rule ingrained in you.

Voices taunted you, grating against your ears as if you could hear them for real.

No fighting.

Listen to what your master says.

If you so much as scratch one of us, we'll put you down.

This is the price of being the monster that you are.

You wanted to defend yourself. You wanted to stand up for yourself. But you couldn't no matter how much you willed your feet to move. Resigning yourself to your fate, your shoulders stopped shaking and your eyes glazed over.

Their hands inched closer to you, veiled threats barely concealed and you willed your claws to retract.

You're worthless.

You'll never be free.

You'll always be someone's pet.

That's all you'll ever be good for.

Something made contact with your hair but as quickly as it came, it left. You blinked, the haze diminishing as you registered someone standing in front of you. Your eyes widened as his familiar scent flooded your senses.

The growl that emitted from Ojiro's chest would've sent you running for the hills if he was directing it towards you.

"Back the hell off." He hissed at the three scumbags, livid and fuming, his stance broad and tail curling around you protectively. "If you so much as look at her again, I will bury you six feet under."

The threat was so unlike his calm and easygoing personality that you actually whimpered, mistaking his anger for them towards you instead and he relaxed his stance for your sake.

In that split second, the boldest one out of them all saw him letting down his guard as an opportunity and took it. His hand shot out, intent on hitting you where it hurt the most: your ears.

In a flash, he was being electrocuted by volts that would've burnt him to a crisp if Jirou didn't retract her earphone jack and Kaminari ceased his electricity surge in time. Both of them had on two different degrees of disdain, but their anger was palpable.

"I really wouldn't suggest doing that again." Jirou said, narrowing her eyes at them. "Unless of course, you want to die."

Kaminari smirked, but it looked more deadly than anything else, his hands still sparking. "Please don't come any closer to her. If you do, I won't be responsible for what happens after."

Not very hero-like behavior, but neither student could bring themselves to care at the moment.

The trio took one look at the group defending you, along with a man behind them whose eyes were burning red and capture weapon floating towards them menacingly, and fled like the cowards they were.

The broken sob that bubbled past your lips had Ojiro gathering you in his arms, hugging you tightly.

"I've got you, princess." He murmured, stroking your hair. "You're safe now."

You whimpered again, this time in a lot more pain than before. "H-Hurts..."

His brow furrowed, and then he saw the source of your pain. You were grasping the base of your tail with one hand, desperately rubbing it, trying to ease the little shockwaves of agony still shooting through it.

"O-Ojiro... I-I can't." You pleaded even though you didn't know what exactly you were asking for. "Please, h-help me..."

His hand snaked down your spine until you stiffened and his hand came to a stand still on your lower back, just above your tail.

"Right here?" He asked softly, caressing that spot gently.

You sighed, leaning against him fully as relief flooded over your body. You couldn't find it. There always was a spot that could alleviate pain but you had never been able to pinpoint it.

It changed for every injury, making it rather difficult. You were glad he was there. That they were all there.

Thank you. You wanted to say but you couldn't find your voice. I was saved by him again.

Stretching up on your tip-toes, you hesitantly scented him. When he crooked his head to the side further to make it easier to you, you did it more enthusiastically, taking comfort in him as he continued to ease your pain.

After a minute, he brushed the tears away from your face, examining you closely. "Better?"

Your eyes were glossy but it was more from relief than pain.

"Mmhm," You hummed quietly, still a bit shaky. "Thank you..."

He gently kissed the top of your head, not able to bring himself to say anything just yet. He wanted to scold you for going off on your own but he knew you already probably blamed yourself. Besides, he was the one most at fault for leaving you alone. However much he wanted to protect you, he still wanted to respect your wishes and give freedom and you had wanted to try and do this one thing by yourself.

Perhaps there was a way you could come to a compromise but that discussion could come later. He didn't trust himself to speak, only hugging you tighter.

In addition, he really only cared about your wellbeing. At least now, you were safe.

The four of you went over to where Aizawa was making sure the trio didn't come back, turning to face you as you meekly tugged on the back of his shirt.

"You alright, kid?" He asked, eyes dark with an intensity that took you slightly by surprised.

You shakily nodded your head, swallowing hard.

Aizawa's shoulders slumped in relief. Other than the dimming wild look in your eyes, you seemed to be okay.

He leaned over as Jirou and Kaminari seamlessly took up guard while he attended to you.

"Did you recognize them?" He asked you lowly, so that no one else but you and Ojiro heard him.

You shook your head again, more confident this time. "I... I don't think so."

You knew he was indirectly asking you if those boys had been Quirk Traffickers. Of course, he would figure it out eventually, being an underground hero and all. It didn't take a lot for that kind of information to circulate when someone messed up a mark.

He bit back a scowl, not wanting to alarm you any further than you already were. Distracting himself, he picked up the discarded scarf he had given you earlier, shaking it off before wrapping it around your neck. He always felt better when he could hide his face in his capture weapon, and while he didn't know if it would do the same for you, he wanted to try and give you some semblance of comfort.

Luckily, Ojiro's presence seemed to be doing a pretty good job of keeping you calm.

Aizawa questioned you a bit more. What they looked like, how they approached you and what they said to you specifically and you told him all that you could remember; which regrettably, wasn't a lot.

It all happened so fast.

As you talked with Aizawa, Ojiro was left with his thoughts.

There was one thing that didn't add up but he was too afraid to ask. When they left, your tail had been safely tucked away from sight underneath the oversized hoodie of his you were wearing. Now, it was out in the open and he had a feeling you didn't take it out by yourself.

Either they had forced you to, or they had forced themselves on you, and he was not willing to entertain that thought any longer.

"Y/N," He called quietly to get your attention and your ears swiveled to show that you heard him. "Your tail."

You tensed up and faced him, cocking your head to the side with a puzzled look on your face.

Ojiro gestured to where it was poking out from underneath the layers of cozy fabric. "You tucked it away, right?"

Your face grew bright red in embarrassment but as you stammered out it was because you had been so excited at the prospect of buying your own bed that it had wagged out of its confines by itself before you could contain it, relief broke out on his face.

So it wasn't because of any of the other things he had thought of, that was good.

Jirou and Kaminari approached you as Aizawa gave them the okay once he checked you over, expressions flooded with worry.

You hastily reassured them that they were okay and thanked them for coming when they did, an embarrassed flush creeping up your neck clueing them in on your shame at having to be rescued.

Kaminari was dense and didn't notice it right away but Jirou elbowed him in the side, glancing pointedly at how your ears were drooped and his eyes cleared in understanding.

You clutched onto the black scarf wrapped around your neck, breathing in deeply. Coffee clung to the soft fabric and it brought a smile to your face. It smelled just like your da— Aizawa.

Shoot.

The five of you milled around the store, seeking out what you had originally come here for.

Well, you and Ojiro walked with Jirou and Kaminari while Aizawa stationed himself at the door. Just in case those boys decided to be dumb and come back.

You didn't know how you ended up smushed between Ojiro and Jirou with Kaminari in front of you, walking backwards so that he could talk to you, and yet, here you were.

Kaminari waved his hands frantically to keep your attention when your eyes strayed to a tag attached to a fancy pillowcase. He was currently in the middle of a mild breakdown now that it was all over.

"We got worried when you didn't show up, so we went to go look for you!!" He shouted, gesturing wildly to nothing in particular.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Jirou asked worriedly for the tenth time in the last five minutes but you weren't bothered by the repetition.

In fact, you felt rather touched that they cared so much.

You nodded, thanking them for protecting you again before curiously asking how they managed to find you so fast.

Before Jirou even got a chance to explain her quirk to you, Kaminari was interjecting, making broad and expressive hand gestures to gush about her abilities and your eyes filled with awe, as if you were hearing about one of the top heroes who had just won a battle against a villain.

Jirou turned away, obviously embarrassed by the pikachu's telling of the tale but you caught a small smile on her face and thanked her once more.

"I'm glad you're safe now." Was all she said before folding her arms over her chest and leaning against the nearest wall.

From here, she was within eyesight of Aizawa, since the three of you were heading towards another part of the store that he would be unable to see. Acting as a middleman, she pulled out her phone to entertain herself while she waited for you to finish getting what you needed.

Ojiro shook his head, amused as Kaminari took no notice of Jirou's departure and rambled on, taking you through all of the quirks that their classmates in Class 1-A had.

You nodded your head along eagerly, excitement seeping in and replacing the fear that had gripped your chest earlier.

Ojiro had to admit, he was sure Aizawa was going to chew them out for using their quirks without explicit permission, since it was a rule everyone had to abide by, but he was surprised when he didn't. The teenager had a feeling though that it was just pushed back until you were out of range to hear his scolding, since it would probably just serve to pile on the guilt more if he wasn't careful.

Still, he thought he saw a flash of pride in his teacher's eyes as they stood up for you. Maybe it had been his imagination.

Your eyes were starting to shimmer once again and your tail wagged as you spotted what you had been looking for all along.

Ojiro made sure to stay by your side, your hand in his as he twisted around, spotting Jirou striding towards you guys with Aizawa in tow.

"Uh, Y/N?" Kaminari's questioning tone made your ears perk up. "Why are we in the dog's section? I know you're part dog but isn't that a little—"

He cut off with a yelp as Jirou smacked him over the head for saying something so insensitive. But even she was dumbfounded when you beamed, holding up a medium-sized box proudly.

"Um, Y/N? You do know that's an inflatable dog bed, right?" Jirou asked cautiously, growing even more confused when you nodded enthusiastically. "I'm not sure that's—"

"That can't be your bed!!" Kaminari blurted out, incredulous.

You would barely fit on it, let alone the fact that it would be extremely uncomfortable. How would a pillow even stay on it?! Or blankets?!

Not to mention, static cling was the worst on these things.

Ojiro frowned sadly, hoping that this wasn't what they all thought it was. "Y/N?"

Your eyes were downcast and he tipped your chin up to him, his gaze sympathetic.

"What is it?" He inquired, not beating around the bush as he brushed a thumb against your cheek.

"I... I don't have a lot of money." You confessed and tensed after hearing a sharp intake of breath from Jirou. "All I have is just enough for this. I'm thankful I can even get this much."

Ojiro's horrified to hear you speaking like this. Like you were used to being devoid of simple necessities.

"I'll pay for it." He rushed out, gripping your shoulders, his tail jerking behind him. "Pick something more suitable, alright? You can choose whatever."

Sure, he could afford it. Since being enrolled in the prestigious hero school, he had saved up a lot of money and hadn't spent any of it. UA covered all of their expenses for food and housing, so this was the least he could do for you.

Your eyes went wide. "I can't let you do that!!"

He opened his mouth to insist when someone beat him to it.

"He can't but I can."

Aizawa stuffed his hands in his pants, shrugging nonchalantly as his students and foster daughter regarded him in shock. He may or may not overheard your conversation due thanks to Jirou's help.

"Go ahead but try not to take too long. We don't want to linger here." He jabbed a finger towards the entrance. "I'm going to keep watch to make sure they don't come back. Can I trust you three to watch over Y/N?"

"Yes, sir!!" They all chorused together.

You hesitantly browsed the shelves as he left you to it, making you promise to come and get him when you were ready to checkout.

"Ojiro-kun, is this really okay?" You asked timidly, playing with your fluffy tail self-consciously.

It was too sensitive for you to tuck away and you were growing nervous at how many people were staring at you. You exhaled shakily as he carefully intertwined his fingers with yours and tilted his neck, encouraging you to scent him.

You did so without much prompting, growing lax at his comforting scent washed over you.

"Aizawa-sensei wouldn't have offered if he didn't mean it." He told you, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "I'm sure he meant every word."

After wandering around aimlessly and getting distracted by the littlest things, Ojiro had to tug on your hand more than once to keep you on track. As much as he wanted to let you roam free, he did not want a repeat of what happened earlier. He would feel better once they went to a different store.

You, on the other hand, were forgetting the situation you had just been through and were throwing yourself into the hobby that was shopping, the new experience thrilling and exciting once you didn't have to be too worried about being cornered again thanks to their presence.

Kaminari was actually the one to find foldable cots, small and suitable for your room, not to mention, cost efficient. You eagerly enlisted his help in picking out one with a sturdy metal frame while Jirou selected a plush pad that you could store easily, making it easy to transport back to the dorm.

Ojiro found a comfy pillow for you and that marked the end of your little haul for this store.

At the register, Aizawa mysteriously showed up right on time to pay, even though Ojiro already had his wallet out and was ready to take care of it.

You giggled, poking his cheek as your tail batted his playfully. "Don't be sad, Ojiro-kun."

Yelping as he twined his tail around your waist to draw you close, you blushed as you felt his breath right by your ear.

"By the end of today, I will buy you something and you can't refuse it, okay?" He chuckled as you stared up at him cluelessly. "Consider it a welcome home gift."

You blushed, shyly thanking the cashier for your things and grabbing your bags. "A welcome home gift?"

He nodded, escorting you out of the store, the other two and Aizawa falling in step behind the four of you. "Since you're going to be staying with us now, we'll make sure you get a warm welcome."

Kaminari's eyes lit up excitedly and he nudged Jirou in the ribs. She rolled her eyes but even though she didn't show it as clearly, she most definitely matched his enthusiasm. They were both excited you were going to be staying with them for the foreseeable future.

Wait until they told the others.

Taglist: @katsukis-sad-angel​

[everlarkficexchange]

lying in the bed we made (if it wasn't us)

Written by: @archersandsunsets

Prompt 26: the night before the Quarter Quell, in the sleepless dark, Katniss and Peeta allow themselves to indulge in the bittersweet dream of a future they’ll never have together (“if it wasn’t us, what would you do?” “I’d want to marry you” “tell me”) [submitted by @rosegardeninwinter]

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Word Count: 2,918

Rated T.

Author’s Note: Dedicated to the lovely Cate, who has become an invaluable friend over the last few weeks. This is for you, but don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Title from the song, Lying in the Bed We Made by Arrows to Athens. I’d highly recommend listening to it while reading, volume low—it’s very Everlark.

She refused to let go of his hand, insisting he could shower in her room. Convinced that if a door shut between them that night, it would lock and she’d have to spend the night without him.

In return for his obligation, she let him shower first, after he helped her out of her dress. Then, she sat on the bathroom counter in her slip, watching the steam curl towards the ceiling. While Peeta shampooed, they chatted idly about the reactions of the Capitol citizens to the baby bomb like it was a conversation mundanely brought up over breakfast.

“You really think they bought it?” 

“Of course,” Katniss replied, picking at the pins in her hair that were holding her elaborate updo in place, “I’m pretty sure you could convince Effie that a potato sack was fashionable if you really tried.”

Amidst the patter of the water, she heard him snort. “You give me too much credit. Effie would never wear brown, unless maybe it was mahogany.”

A smirk turned her mouth at his joke, and a thought slipped into her mind.

Is this what it would be like, if we got married?

Katniss’s hand stilled on the pin just above her ear she was toying with.

Where had that come from?

Distantly, the water cut off in the shower, but Katniss didn’t look up until she heard the curtain slide back. Peeta had fastened a towel around his waist, and, balancing on one foot, was reaching for his prosthetic. 

“Do you need help?” It felt like a stupid question the moment it left her, but it was either that or stare into space thinking… about her own thoughts. Or, stare at Peeta. None of which were her first choice.

Not that there wasn’t something to stare at regarding Peeta. And if they were actually getting married, she’d have an excuse to.

“Oh, no, I’ve got it.” He smiled sweetly at her, and she watched while he easily attached his prosthetic and stood. All without losing his towel.

She’d asked him countless questions about it before, the nights they’d spent on the train and the mornings after, but Katniss found one she hadn’t asked yet. “Do you miss it?”

His eyebrows crinkled, confused. “What? My leg?”

“Mmhmm.” Katniss’s hand found its way back into her hair. Back into the damned pins. 

“Sometimes.” He shrugged. “After the first Games, I… missed it a lot, I guess, because it hurt a lot. Phantom pain, they called it. Because my body wasn’t adjusted to losing a part of itself. But now… it’s just a leg, really. And losing it kind of saved my life.” He winked at her. “Someone decided they couldn’t live without me, I guess.”

For some odd reason, Katniss laughed at that. “Oh, that’s the reason, huh?” She’d missed this side of him. Even if he was technically making her laugh at his expense. Not that she blamed him for that, given the circumstances.

Peeta stepped over to stand in front of her. “That’s what I’ve been told. By our fans.” He was still joking, still lightening the mood from her dark question. From the darkness of the night ahead.

He adjusted his towel and then took her hand, entwining their fingers. He nodded towards the shower. “Your turn. Do you want me to stay?”

Katniss didn’t think about it. She nodded.

“I just have to get these out,” she complained, using her free hand to pull at one of the pins. “You’re lucky all they have to do to you is put some gel in.” She ruffled his wet hair, which was already beginning to dry in ringlets from the heat in the room.

Peeta chuckled. “Let me.” He reached into her hair, and with one tug a lock of her hair fell from its hold. Then another, and another, until the hairstyle had been reduced to a pile of pins on the counter, and her hair fell in a dark, wavy curtain down her shoulders.

When Katniss looked up, she found the expression on Peeta’s face to be unreadable. This time, he was the one staring, eyes wild in a way that no one had ever looked at her with before. But still, underneath it all, she saw the familiarity of his love for her.

It didn’t make her squirm this time. Instead, it felt right.

“There,” he said, voice low and soft. “Much better.” He allowed himself to twist a piece around his fingers before dropping it. He seemed to come back to himself, because he blinked and straightened. “Um.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry. I’m just going to… get dressed really fast. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” Katniss replied.

“Okay,” Peeta echoed, then he disentangled their hands and left the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind him.

In the steam of the moment and the room, Katniss remembered what Haymitch said Peeta had done for her by confessing his love before their first Games. What felt like forever ago now.

“He made you look desirable!”

To the people of the Capitol, of course. But to Peeta…

She already had been.

…

Hands entwined, they laid in the darkness. Silent, in case the other was able to get even a little rest tonight, though that was impossible. 

Tomorrow was the first day of the rest of their lives—and if either of them had their way, it wouldn’t be both of them leaving that arena.

Just one. 

Once again, their greatest ally was also their greatest enemy: each other.

At first they lay on their backs, their hands in the space between, both lost in thought. Then Katniss rolled over to look at him. 

His eyes were closed, but he was clearly awake. The flare of his nostrils on an exhale was proof. Still, Katniss didn’t look away. The moonlight from the open window spilled grey across the room, the sky’s hue casting bluish shadows over everything. Over him, too.

She let her eyes trace the outlines of his face. The slope of his nose and the curve of his lips. His eyelashes. The freckle underneath his eye. The wrinkle in his brow. She knew without asking that he was deep in thought.

A small, nostalgic voice inside her whispered, “I wish we had more time.”

As if on cue, Peeta’s eyes blinked open. Then his attention was on her, and Katniss shifted to accommodate him while he turned onto his side, mirroring her. Without speaking, they switched hands, curling them up between them.

He dipped his head down to brush his nose against her forehead. Then she felt his lips there, and heard his sigh as he settled, eye level with her.

His voice was ragged and sad when he whispered, “I wish we had more time, too.”

Katniss blinked. Had she said that out loud? She must have. Somehow, it wasn’t as embarrassing, here in the dark. Here, so close to him, with no guilt to feel about Gale, no more goodbyes to say.

It was just… true. Because even if her heart wouldn’t allow her to admit it, she loved Peeta Mellark in her own way.  In whatever way she could. She always had. She always would. 

Until her last breath.

Even if the idea itself scared her to her core.

“If it wasn’t us, what would you do?" 

The question spilled out.

There was a beat of heavy silence between them before Peeta spoke.

“I’d want to marry you.”

Somehow, his answer didn’t surprise her. She had known he would have wanted to be with her, that he was someone who still believed in marriage and happily ever after and sunsets and hope. That much was obvious.

It was that fact that kept her sane, now, so close to the end. Something to cling to in her final moments, maybe. The idea that he would live out all of those wonderful things with someone else. With anyone at all. Because he would be alive.

Usually, the idea would bring an unwarranted frisson of sadness over Katniss at the thought of Peeta with another girl. Not for any particular reason than that she would be sad to… miss it. Then, the swift return of duty and obligation would follow, because she owed that to him, owed him a life and so much more, for his loving her and saving her. But not now.

Instead, Katniss felt something else at Peeta’s simple declaration.

Curiosity. For a life she would never get to see, would never admit she wanted to know about except for here in the darkness, lying in Peeta’s arms.

“Tell me.”

His hesitation spoke to his surprise. “Really?” His lips turned up slightly at her soft spoken request, the tone of his voice rising in disbelief. And teasing, she noticed, but regarded with the same familiarity as on the Tour; she was used to it by now. “You want to know a besotted school boy’s fantasies about marrying the love of his life? With you as the bride?”

“Mmhmm.” She nodded. “I do.”

“Wow, you’re serious.” The humor faded from his voice. And, because Peeta could never deny her, even if he didn’t understand her, he said, “Okay.”

Katniss waited for him to begin. Patient, she took her time watching him while he gathered his thoughts. He had the same wrinkle in his forehead as before, but the lines were softer. His ideas, surely were lighter than whatever he had been pondering before the start of their conversation.

“Well, for starters,” Peeta said, “You wouldn’t wear a thirty pound wedding dress made of pearls and feathers that catches on fire when you twirl.”

A laugh made its way out of Katniss’s throat. “How kind of you. What would I wear, then?”

“Anything you want.” A pause. “You’d look beautiful no matter what.”

It was the kind of comment that on any other night would have made her uncomfortable, or wish he’d take it back. Because it wasn’t true, and because by saying it out loud she was hurting him. But tonight, she allowed herself the absence of guilt that would usually accompany her blush.

Tonight, she let him see her in a way she’d never seen herself. Despite the ways she’d wronged him in the past.

Worthy of his love.

“Sorry,” Peeta’s apology brought her back. Probably because she didn’t say anything.

“Don’t apologize,” she told him. “It’s okay.” She squeezed his fingers. “Then what? Go on. Keep talking about our wedding.”

He rubbed his thumb over her hand. “Alright. If you say so.”

“I do.”

The words echoed in her head when she said them, their significance revealing itself. All this talk of weddings… 

I do, I do, I do.

A beat passed between them before Peeta picked up where he left off. “Of course, we’d go to the Justice Building and sign papers. Prim would be there, and your mother. My family… probably wouldn’t attend.” He sighed. “Except maybe Auric.” The middle Mellark brother. “Delly would be there, too.”

“Delly?” Katniss asked.

“Yeah,” Peeta replied, “I’ve known her a long time. We used to play together when we were kids. She used to tell people I was her brother. She’s one of the only close friends I still have.”

One of the only close friends I still have. Katniss thought for a moment about Gale, nostalgic. Wishing they would have been able to maintain what they had. Wishing it wasn’t so complicated. It wasn’t hard to imagine why Peeta would have lost friends. But she didn’t want to think about it. Peeta was so kind. For greed and self-righteousness to steal his friends, was cruel.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Peeta shook his head at her. “Don’t be. They weren’t real, anyway. Delly is. That’s why she stuck around. Now, where was I?”

“We just signed papers at the Justice Building,” she supplied.

“Right, right.”

“What happens next?” 

Peeta shot her a look, one that asked her if she was serious. “You know what happens next.”

Katniss resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “What?”

“A toasting.” Peeta’s voice went soft, dreamlike. “We have a toasting.”

And suddenly, Katniss wasn’t a seventeen year old girl being sent to her death tomorrow morning for the second time. She wasn’t an instigator, forced to torture the boy that was in love with her with Capitol engagements in the slim hopes it would appease the rioting districts. She wasn’t the girl who had volunteered for her sister in a fight to the death.

She was no one. She was eleven years old, watching Peeta Mellark take a beating to give her some bread. To save the life of a dying girl.

She was cold, soaked from the rain and the memory, remembering the loaves as they landed in front of her. Remembering the heat that scorched her underneath her coat when she picked them up. 

“A toasting,” she repeated in a whisper, voice hollow and haunted.

“Yeah,” Peeta said, and he must have noticed the change in her demeanor, her body language, because he pulled his hand from hers to run it down her arm. “Hey.” He tilted her chin up, and she let him.

A shiver passed over her body.

“We don’t have to talk about this,” he said, “if it makes you uncomfortable. I know…” He took a deep breath, “I know you never planned on getting married.”

“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable.” She didn’t even think before she spoke. “I just…” She felt incredibly stupid, because here he was comforting her when she was the one who made him talk about his dream wedding—which would never come true, now.

What kind of monster was she?

“I was thinking about the bread,” she whispered.

“Oh,” Peeta said, realizing. “Katniss, you know… we’re even. You don’t owe me a debt, or anything. I’m serious.”

“I know.” She wasn’t sure she agreed with him completely, she would always owe him in her mind, but she knew he was too kind to collect. Too in love with her to do anything about it. How could you repay someone for saving your life? But, it wasn’t about the debt. It was something else. And she didn’t know what. She didn’t have the time to figure it out, either.

Silence bridged the gap between them, while Katniss tried to wrap her mind around her emotions. No words between them. But she felt Peeta’s eyes on her. Soft, understanding. Waiting. He was always waiting, for her.

“Peeta…” she began. Barely audible.

“Hmm?” 

“Thank you.”

“What?”

“Thank you, for saving my life, with the bread. I have to say it, even if…” Even if we die tomorrow. Even if I die. Even if you live. Even if, even if, even if.

“Shh, hey, Katniss—” Confusion colored his tone, but still, he tried to reassure her. Like he always did.

“—And I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you don’t get to have your dream. That I can’t love you the way you deserve. That I’m—”

In a brush of movement, Peeta had moved, until his forehead pressed against hers. Katniss thought he might kiss her, but he didn’t. Instead, his lips moved an inch from her own, his voice came rough and trembling, he cradled her face.

“Please don’t say that,” he said, soft and pleading and pained. “It’s not your fault.”

“You deserve better.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do! You deserve everything, Peeta Mellark.” And I can’t give it to you. I wish I could. I wish… She couldn’t bear to look at him, but couldn’t bear to pull herself too far away from him, either. 

Because she needed him. In more ways than he would ever know. She pulled back, and closed her eyes.

His hands still held her tenderly, though their foreheads were no longer pressed together. “I have everything I’ll ever need right here.” He didn’t miss a beat.

Katniss couldn’t say she was surprised. Or that his sentiment didn’t flatter her—or didn’t sting, because he was talking about her. In a way no one else had ever talked about her. In a way no one else ever would.

Not after tomorrow.

“Katniss, look at me.”

She did.

“You…” For a moment, it seemed as if the eloquent, sweet, Peeta Mellark had gone speechless, until: “You are everything. I love you.”

Even if, even if, even if…

I do, I do, I do…

I wish, I wish, I wish…

I love you, I love you, I love you…

All the words she could never say. Could never mean. Could never…

“I know,” she told him. The fight went out of her, and she opened her eyes. Her voice was nothing but a whisper. “I know.”

When could she stop hurting him? When could she give him something other than phantom pain—pain for parts of himself, gone forever. Would it hurt less, when she was gone?

With the conversation over, they shifted into more comfortable positions to try and get some rest, to hold each other. As Katniss lay her head on Peeta’s chest and he wrapped his arms around her, as they clung to each other in the silent, deadly dark, Katniss allowed her mind to wander.

One last time. 

Would this have happened anyway? she wondered. An echo of everything Peeta ever wanted. An echo of desires she wasn’t allowed to have.

It was a strange thought, disconnected from reality, barely formed.

Would we have happened anyway?

She knew that now, she would never know.

[darkmindsotome]

Two Cups and a Cure

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairing: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart x MC

Word count: 4,296

Warning: soft/ very light angst quickly turning to fluff with a dash of spice at the end.

Written by: darkmindsotome

Tagging @cinnatwisted​ for this commissioned piece.

Summary: Creative block. We all get it from time to time and a suggestion turns into a sort of date. There will be teasing, there will be blushing but as always there is love.

Darkmindsotome Masterlist 

---

Two Cups and a Cure

The sound of pen on paper as it scratched out markings on the manuscript filled his room. The black ink rhythmically plotting its way through a song that was currently only heard in the head of the man composing it.

A loud noise preceded the muffled yet audibly far to clear chatter through his door. His creativity stalled while simultaneously his hand involuntarily jarred. Violet eyes watched in horror as the ink from his pen ran in a meaningless stroke destroying his perfect score.

He growled in frustration, crumpling the paper in his fist as he bounded from his desk and out into the hallway. His eyes fell on the two people at the root of this recent interruption and it was not a sight that induced a calming influence on his mind.

“Why is it so loud out here? It’s like you all have an affliction in this building that prevents you from remaining silent.” His voice resounded with a fury that caused the now still figures of Mc and Arthur to flinch. “Can you or can you not understand what it means to maintain piano-forte or must I forever be cursed by your deafening crescendo?”

“Now, now, Wolfie. No need to be so angry. I was just having a little fun with Mc here. You should hire her for your next Opera. Did you know she could reach such a high note?” Arthur recovered much faster than Mc, the teasing lilt to his voice grated on his nerves like an untuned violin.

“Arthur…” Mc looked between the two men for a second, trying to prevent incurring further animosity. She was also trying to free her hand from Arthur who stubbornly refused to loosen his grip.

“I don’t hire amateurs. I also don’t care what you are doing just take it somewhere else.” He scoffed a deep frown etched into his brow. He was aware of his words being more barbed than usual, it still shocked him how sharing his life with another had caused him to notice such things.

“Oh? So you don’t mind if I borrow her for a little game then?” Arthur made a show of getting closer to Mc. Drawing her to him by the hand he refused to part with. Violet eyes lingered on the connection between Arthur and Mc mentally taking note of every part touched.

“What?” His voice had lost some of its volume but none of its venom. Arthur almost looked as if he were going to wrap himself around her in public. It was enough to make his blood boil at the thought both in terms of jealousy and envy. How could he be so brazen?

“You’ve been so focused on your composing dear boy you’ve left your love completely unattended. It would be only natural should she find another.” Arthur’s words stung and were also little more than stirring the pot. It was all to clear that he was relishing the torment he was causing inside an already troubled mind.

“Preposterous! Mc isn’t like the women you fool around with.” Firmly denying the assumption he flicked his violet eyes towards Mc as if looking for confirmation.

He found it, those beautiful eyes were looking only at him. The way she held his gaze told him everything he needed to know. She had never failed to meet him head-on no matter his mood. He knew this and yet it did little to prevent the thoughts swirling in my mind of the possibility that Arthur may have a point.

In truth, he wanted to treat her kindly and spoil her. It was a genuine wish and one he had voiced before. He hated his current mood with a passion for how it caused his mouth to run without regard to her.

“No, she isn’t, is she? Still, even the purest of heart can be forgiven for having a wandering eye when mistreated.” Arthur and his blasted observational skills managed to put a voice to the budding insecurity in the composer’s mind. There was a playful smile on his face as if this were nothing but a very entertaining game to him before shrugging and straightening out his collar. “I should be running along though I promised a rather fine filly I would join them for a jaunt around town, cheerio!”

“Erm Mozart? He didn’t mean anything by all that… I’m sure.” Mc’s slightly timid voice confirmed his fear that he had been excessively harsh. If he hurt Arthur he didn’t care, but her? That idea was a pain that surpassed the torment and frustration plaguing him.

“It is of no concern of mine what he or anyone else thinks.” He looked in the direction Arthur had left before drawing closer and busying himself with a handkerchief to wipe the hand that Arthur had been holding. He meant what he said the opinions of others meant little as there was only one opinion that mattered to him now. “What do you think?”

There was a tenderness in her eyes as she watched him diligently cleanse her. The faint smile on her lips calmed him. She should always be smiling.

“I think you have been working very hard recently and very focused.” Mc spoke softly turning her hand in his and threading her fingers with his own. “No matter how much time I see you spending on work though I only ever see the torn-up paper. If you’re struggling then I’d like to help.”

“Help? How would you help?” He wanted to ridicule her for her offer but found his words had deserted him under her clear gaze.

“Look I get you are frustrated but that is no need to take that tone with me.” She frowned and took on a more determined manner. “I’m worried about you not just as your lover but your friend too. I used to get writer’s block as well.”

“Writer’s block?” His pale features became dusted with pink. How could she say something so embarrassingly sweet with such a straight face? He felt warmth rush through him from where their hands were connected and broke the connection in an effort to rid himself of these bothersome feelings.

“It’s a thing you get when trying to work. It's like an invisible barrier in your head that prevents you from completing a task. Prevents you from doing what you would do normally or want to do. It is very frustrating but unless you acknowledge it you will just be hitting your head off a brick wall.” Mc continued without pointing out his change of appearance.

“Who would do such a thing?” He felt a little horrified by the idea that his love had suffered as he was and taken to such extreme measures to overcome them.

“It’s an expression, like... trying to get blood out of a stone.” Mc giggled like a tinkling bell realising he had taken her words literally instead of figuratively.

“Pointless…” Again, he felt a rush of embarrassment hit him but it was from his own lack of understanding this time. 

“Exactly. It’s a futile action that isn’t going to change just because you pushed on with more determination. If anything, you will get more frustrated, angrier and become exhausted.” Mc straightened her posture and outlined everything he was currently feeling with finely tuned precision.

“So, what did you do when you had this writer’s block?” His mood hadn’t exactly improved but he felt a lot calmer now.

“Change of scenery. I’d go out, walk around with no particular place in mind and sometimes that was all it took.”

“Sometimes? That doesn’t sound at all convincing.” This was hardly the first time he had suffered such a creative barrier but it felt better somehow to know that at least this time he was not alone.

“Well I’m not saying getting some air and going for a walk is a cure-all for it every time but it doesn’t hurt to try.” Mc gave a small shrug.

He had been holed up in his music room and his bedroom for days. It wasn’t that he was trying to ignore her but he knew he had been. Her hair looked different, the colour of her skin, the scent flowing from her was all just a little changed from their last private time spent together.

“One hour” The words were out before he knew it.

“Pardon?” Her wide-eyed look nearly made him laugh. She's always so expressive.

“Meet me in front of the mansion in one hour.” He didn’t wait for a response and just returned to his room to prepare to leave. She had possibly meant for him to go out alone but he couldn’t deny how he felt after being reminded of how much of their time together had been lost. I missed her.

*

The town was as lively and annoying as he remembered it, somethings apparently never change. Getting down from the carriage he felt his legs regain their strength as his feet touched the solid ground.

“Are you getting any better with the whole travelling thing?” Mc asked quietly enough for him to hear.

“It is easier when there is sufficient babbling to distract me.” His clipped reply brought an end to the inquiry before she could push for more and caused her to smile at him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You are a very strange woman.” He grumbled.

Thinking about how far they had come together and how his words now no longer seemed to instantly spark confusion or offence he felt a warmth spreading through him.

“And you are in a relationship with me so what does that say about you?” She caught him off guard with her fast reply. The flustered moment was only brief but enough for him to feel overly aware of himself. He pivoted on the spot and began walking without a clear direction in mind. “Hey! Wait up.”

“Don’t dawdle or you’ll be left behind.” He didn’t have to look back, he could hear her feet shuffling as fast as a scampering child to reach him. It brought a smile to his face even if it was a slightly sadistic one.

“So where shall we go? That café looks nice.” Mc wrapped her arm around his like they attending a ball and pointed in the direction of a quiet-looking shop.

“They have good coffee.” He nodded. He was musing over the fact that she seemed to be looking for places he would like rather than dragging him towards more lively and noisy locations.

“Been before?” She looked up at him from his side still smiling happily. Honestly, why are you so happy about this?

“Been and won’t go back.” His voice was a monotone rejection.

“Why not?” She tilted her head clearly baffled. He couldn’t say he blamed her given he had just admitted their coffee was acceptable.

“There was a line of dirt where the handle attached to the body of the cup.” He scrunched his nose up at the memory.

“That’s it? That is why you won’t go back?” To her credit, she managed to keep the laughter mostly out of her voice as she looked at him.

“No… I can’t.” His clear voice sounded muffled even to him as he turned his head away from her.

“I know you’re a clean freak but seriously that--” That’s right Mc was aware by now of his habits. Her face wasn’t that of someone shocked at his observation more disbelief that it would be the only reason to refuse to return.

He had never hidden his preferences for cleanliness but he had been informed more than once by the other residents at the mansion that he was strange. She, however, had adapted and seemed to take his peculiarities in stride.

“The owner took offence to me using my handkerchief to wipe the utensils before I used them.” His face heated up under her direct observation. He could feel the prickly heat gathering as his ears started to burn with new colour.

“Pfft… HAHAHA oh my gosh, you didn’t? hang on I could totally see you doing that.” Any control she had over her laughter now was gloriously destroyed by the images of her imagination.

“Yes, yes. I’m sure it is all rather amusing. Pick somewhere else.” He wanted to be angry at her for her outburst. He wanted to chastise her for drawing attention to them in public and for his appearance taking on that of a ripe tomato, but he found he couldn’t when faced with her in such a happy display.

“Alright… let's go this way.” Mc gathered herself and looked around for a moment before settling on a direction.

“Where are we going?” He looked where she was pointing and failed to see anything of interest.

“I just told you this way.” Mc tugged his arm urging him to move forward and follow her.

“This is stupid.” He complained even as he naturally came to her side matching her pace.

“Oh? Got something else to be doing?” She sounded petulant but still happy. He frowned at her attitude but still found himself hopelessly lost in her. Mc glanced at him and gave him a wink before pulling on his arm a little harder drawing him closer to her side. “Come on where’s your spirit of adventure?”

*

“Oh! This is a cute shop” Mc exclaimed and stopped in her tracks which in turn caused him to nearly knock into her.  

They had been wandering aimlessly around side streets and bystreets. Honestly, the lack of direction irritated him but he had kept his mouth shut as he watched how happy she seemed to be and realised his irritation was nothing when compared to the time they were spending together.

He could even hear ripples of melody in his mind. The more they walked and passed pointless conversation the clearer his music seemed to become.

The ‘cute shop’ she seemed to be referring to was a hole in the wall location that was, in all honesty, the stuff of his worst nightmares combined. There was no order to it, items littered and piled high in places as if abandoned. Had it not been for the small sign denoting it as a shop he might have assumed it was simply the location of a recent disaster.

“Yes, if you find dust, cobwebs and clutter cute then I imagine this place is quite charming.” He felt his repulsion willing him to recoil but it was no match for the small female dragging him ever closer to the abyss.

“Don’t be like that I know it’s not up to your standards but look! They have some things that came from where I live. Lived.”

She points to a few strange items and he found himself wondering how she could have seen anything amongst the mess. It reminded him a little of that slob at the mansion and his appalling room. No matter what you asked him for he seemed to find what was needed effortlessly among the debris he called creativity.

He couldn’t deny he was a little curious about the things from her homeland. Sebastian was also a native but he had never taken much of an interest in Japan or other lands until she arrived in his myopic little world.

“Bonjour.” A detached voice called out from the back of the building. A few small thuds and some shaking stacks of objects announced the appearance of a happy, if rather scruffy, looking man.

“Oh, Bonjour Monsieur I was just admiring this little teacup.” Mc took the new arrival in stride smiling and holding up something ceramic.

She was so open and warm it amazed him and also worried him. She had proven time and again how meddlesome she could be but also how friendly. She really was going to get herself hurt one day, he only hoped he could be there to prevent disaster striking.

“Ah, Mademoiselle has a good eye. That is one of a pair it survived a very long journey.” The shopkeeper returned her smile and started to look around the space for something that was probably the partner to the cup in her hands. Why don’t you keep things together if they are a pair?

“How can it be a teacup without handles? There isn’t even a saucer.” He looked over her shoulder at the object she had referred to as a cup. It actually looked more like a ceramic beaker, crudely made as if someone had failed to smooth out the finger indentations on the outside of it.

“Japanese teacups don’t have handles we hold them, well cup them in our hands.” Mc demonstrated her right hand wrapping around the cup as her left hand slipped under to hold it from the base. “See?”

“You said they survived a long journey?” He called out to the shopkeeper who had his head buried in a swath of dangling linen that made his skin crawl just by looking at it.

“Yes, I had asked a trader to acquire a small number of them for me but only two managed to make it all the way. I understand there were some storms at sea.” Detaching himself from the dangling fabric the owner held out a second cup that looked to be a little bigger than the one Mc was holding. The colour was also a bit different. How is that a pair?

“They really are pretty.” Mc reached out and took the other cup from the shopkeeper. The expression on her face softened to match the warm glow of the glaze on the teacups.

“I’ll take them.” The words left him without much thought. He had felt the change in him the more time they spent outside the mansion and he wanted to gift his love with something she would actually like. If she liked these mismatched cups from her homeland then it simply made locating such a gift easier.

“What?”

“Very good Monsieur I shall get those wrapped up for you tout suite, pardonnez moi.” The shopkeeper gently took the cups from Mc and vanished once more into the back of the building.

Back in the street, Mc kept looking at the small box tucked under his arm that contained the two cups from the store.

“You didn’t have to buy them.” She said acting aloof.

“And what would you have preferred I left them here and have you wax lyrical on the return home about how much you liked them?” He could clearly see how her eyes were betraying her.

“So where to now?”

“Somewhere clean.” His response brought a smile to her face and she once more linked arms with him careful to not knock him too much out of consideration of him now carrying cargo.

“Fine how about we take a walk along the Seine and then just call it a day then?”

Their outing continued until the sky was dyed in a new hue. The melody in his mind once trapped and stuttering flowed freely through sonata to sonata. All the while he was accompanied by his muse in human form.

*

The moon was high and full in the velveteen sky when the silence of his room was interrupted with the soft knocking at his door.

“Mozart? It’s me.”

“Come in.” His reply wasn’t loud but she had heard it clearly. He put down his pen next to the fresh stack of paper.

“Excuse me.” Mc came into his room slowly carrying a tray with a bottle of Blanc and the set of cups he had purchased earlier for her.

“What’s this?”

“I saw your light on and I thought I’d bring you a drink.” She placed the tray down on his desk in front of him.

“Last I checked I only had one mouth.” His playful quip was met with apprehension.

“Is it too much of a bother for me to join you?” Mc’s voice sounded meek which was unlike her. She was also avoiding making eye contact with him, shuffling her feet as if trying to make up her mind if she should leave or not.

“Come in and sit down before you wear a hole in the carpet.” He ushered her towards his bed.

It had not been his intention to push her to this extreme. She was normally so fast witted he could only assume that after their return she had pushed herself to help Sebastian with what was left of the chores and tired herself out.

“You used the cups.” He commented as he looked at the tray again. Taking the bottle of Blanc and downing it in several large mouthfuls. He had lost track of time, even managing to forget his own hunger. As the tempest of notes swirled in his mind while he moved frantically them in his manuscripts.

“Yes, they are meant to be used you know?” She smiled at the tray her expression reminding him of their walk along the river whenever she glanced at the box under his arm.

“Why did you look so embarrassed when I purchased them? I did it for you and they are just cups.” His curiosity got the better of him as he asked what was on his mind.

“Well yes but you see they aren’t ‘just’ cups. You brought them when we were together and they are a pair.” Mc reached out and picked up one of the cups that was a little smaller than the other. Holding it as she had done back at the shop the smile on her face seemed to gain warmth from the hot chocolate in her hands. “In my time couples sometimes buy matching sets of things together and its seen as romantic.”

“I fail to see how buying something together matching or otherwise is romantic. You have such strange ideas.” He nearly snorted as he picked up the other cup, the heat of the beverage transferring to his grip easily thanks to the lack of handle.

“I knew you wouldn’t get it.” Mc complained as if she were talking to herself.

“…I’m pleased though.” He muttered as he watched her take a sip. For all he had denied her words, playing them off as some strange act. He couldn’t hide the smouldering heat that was rising to his face.

“What?”

“I’m pleased you thought of it in that way. I might not understand how things work from your time but the more I am with you the more I am reminded of how much I missed…” Avoiding her eyes he found himself wishing that the hot chocolate was something a little less hot. He might then have been able to disguise some of his bashfulness by drinking it fast.

“Mozart you haven’t missed anything. You’ve already lived a lifetime but you are here now.” Mc shook her head. She was always so ready to come to his defence even if it were himself who spoke against him.

She had been full of surprises today not least in the way she had continually taken him off guard with her actions and words. He normally hated the idea of something outside of music taking up his time but she was the exception.

No matter how much time he had it never felt like enough. He had added to his desire since meeting Mc. His wish to return, the focus of his new life now felt like it was discovering a revision that added resonance to a body of work. A new life following the path he had desired but this time imbued with feelings he had never experienced whilst he had been living.

“Meine Liebe.” He put his cup down and reached for hers. “I may have lived a lifetime before we met but I was not living until I found you.”

He placed the cups side by side on the tray again. He might not have understood how two pieces that looked so different fit together but he couldn’t deny it felt very apt.

“You know you can sound very poetic when you aren’t trying? Eep!” Mc had recovered some of her fortitude only to cry out as her back hit the crisp linen of his bed.

“Don’t forget who you are talking too. Whose room you are in.” His breath was hot, his face was flushed except this time he didn’t make any move to try to mask it. “I haven’t forgotten the noise that disturbed me earlier. Who disturbed me…”

“What?”

“You are mine and that includes the sounds of your voice. I can’t forgive him for making you cry out.” He trailed his fingers with their familiar callouses up her arms and over her form beneath him.

“Ngh…”

“Mc – Meine Liebe, sing for me. Let me hear your voice.” Her breathing was already becoming heavier with his slightest touch.

“What about your work?” Even as she forced herself to speak, she made no move against his advances.

“Finished. It seems I found my cure.” Words ended as their lips joined. The time for talk had passed and all that was left was a communication far more fluent in expressing their love.

Yes, he had been cured or perhaps cursed with a new problem. His passion and drive normally focused towards his music seemed turned towards her. The hot chocolate grew cold in its containers long before their night was over. Sitting on his desk, the two cups appeared to be the last remnants of his creative troubles.

He knew he would always be reminded of today whenever he saw those cups. Two mismatched items standing as a pair in a union that brought joy to the world. How very fitting for a love such as ours.

---

[the-odd-job]

Up in Flames chapter 9 - Under Your Spell (Ashes Part 2)

Warnings: Major Character Death, Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Soundwave, Megatron, Thundercracker Additional Tags: Dubcon, Mechpreg, Sticky Words: 2818

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Soundwave knows all.

How true was that and how far did it extend? What did it mean in practice, besides just him having intel that he had no right to have?

Sunstreaker accompanied Sideswipe as his brother set out to explore that very matter (in a very limited extent). They found Soundwave in the comms room as seemed to be the usual. Ravage was present too, and Lazerbeak was perched on Soundwave’s shoulder. Rumble and Frenzy though, were nowhere to be seen, but whether that meant that they were elsewhere on the ship, off the ship, or in Soundwave’s chest, he didn’t know.

It wasn’t really relevant either. They only needed Soundwave.

Sunstreaker hung back while Sideswipe traipsed right on over to the blue mech and leaned on the console next to him—though mindful not to press any of the many buttons on it. “Hi,” his brother grinned at the Decepticon TIC, getting nothing more than a blank look for his trouble.

But that was about what they’d expected, so Sideswipe wasn’t discouraged in the slightest. “So, being a tape deck and all, do you happen to have any music that isn’t just the same old, same old Earth stuff?” the red twin asked. If anyone would have some, it’d be Soundwave, right? Sideswipe enjoyed quite a few Earth bands, but there were other worlds out there with their own auditory entertainment.

And more than that… There was Cybertron out there, as much as Sideswipe didn’t say so directly. Earth wasn’t the worst place to be, but they still missed home sometimes. 

They were in the presence of a telepath, though. Not everything needed to be spoken out loud for Soundwave to hear it anyway. The host inclined his helm, stayed still and silent for a while that the twins waited patiently during, before Sideswipe got a ping of a package that he accepted, briefly scanned and quickly opened.

It was full of songs. A whole load of songs. Cybertronian songs. Sideswipe didn’t recognize really any of them, but opened a few for inspection.

He nearly fell to the floor when they turned out to be Kaonite songs. There was no mistaking the harsh rhythms and heavy drums, the same stuff that had always played in bars and clubs—a reflection of the city, the constant hardship and fight for survival it was to just live there. The music was just as violent as the city itself.

And pits, but they hadn’t realized how much they’d missed that. It was their home, no matter how dangerous it had been and how badly they’d gotten treated by it. It was the city that had spawned and forged them into their utterly un-Autobot shape, and it was always a point of pride to have even survived life in it.

They were so far from home, but this… Was a piece of it. 

“Satisfactory?” Soundwave asked, and Sideswipe nodded mutely.

But then, “Jazz: visited you.”

Both twins froze, but there wasn’t much reason to wonder how Soundwave knew. Even if Jazz had managed to come and go without the telepath growing wiser to it—and that was a pretty big if right there—all the telepath needed to do was read their minds to find out the whole deal.

And now they were definitely thinking about that whole incident, and Soundwave, as well as Ravage and Lazerbeak, were all staring at them. Very much for Soundwave to read.

Nevertheless, Sideswipe nodded again to confirm it. 

Soundwave stayed quiet for a moment too long, and that was all the time to cook up wonderful scenarios of what might go down next. They had entirely failed to mention an Autobot had infiltrated the ship. Why? Because they still cared about the Autobot side? Or about Jazz specifically? Mech had been their friend, kinda.

He was a big ass risk too though, not just for them, but everyone else aboard too. That couldn’t look good for them.

But whatever Soundwave saw… He eventually just turned away. “Satisfactory,” he repeated, but this time it wasn’t a question.

Did that mean they were off the hook?

Maybe, maybe not, but Sideswipe still shook himself off. “Cool?” he said, though it came out more as a question, but… Soundwave didn’t do or say anything else.

Probably meant this matter was settled, at least for now.

Back to the original reason they’d come here, with just a little more anxiety over what the future might bring now that Soundwave knew (if he hadn’t always known).

There had been speakers in the rec room.

Sunstreaker moved out of the way when his brother bolted for the doorway. Sideswipe was already through it and two steps into the direction of the rec room before he remembered his manners and bounced back to the door, throwing a quick, “Thanks!” through it.

You know, for the music. Not for the scare of knowing about their illicit visitor.

And then he ran off. Sunstreaker went after him without much less speed. Of course his brother would want to show off a bit—show a bit of their culture, the one the Autobots had always denied and stomped all over as nothing but the savagery of lesser mecha. 

Would the Decepticons? He doubted it.

They were quick to fly through the hallways and to the rec room, almost all optics there looking up when they skidded into the room. Sideswipe went straight to the back of it where the speakers were, and connected to them. The music was quickly scanned so he knew what it was, the rhythm of it, before he put it to play. A grin spread over his face as the beat of the first song began to play from the speakers.

“Why did no one tell me Soundwave has Kaonite music?” he hollered over the song to the room at large to a few exclamations of, “We didn’t know you wanted Kaonite music!” worded in slightly different ways depending on whose vocalizer it was coming from.

Well, that was alright. They had their music now. Sideswipe’s grin widened before he—like the attention whore he was—began to move to the music, doing little more than nodding and swaying along at first while he tried to get his bearings. The Autobots absolutely hadn’t had music like this, or else no one had ever given them it.

The Autobots had wanted to strip their past from them, replace what they’d known with everything they’d wanted of them. 

This, too, they hadn’t had in so long. Even the Pits had had music, dancing.

The song started slower, calmer, giving few hints for what was to come, but everyone in the room who had heard the music of their city—and it was probably the vast majority of them—had to know it wouldn’t stay that way.

And it didn’t. The beat rose in the span of a few seconds and turned true to what Kaon offered.

It offered death and violence, suffering and struggle, and the only reward on the other side was that you were still alive, trekking in the dirt and grime that covered the city from the lowest decks to the highest towers.

It had been too long, but it was theirs. Their past, their home, their culture, no matter how the Autobots had tried to take it all from them. It was ingrained somewhere deep in their spine, and Sideswipe hadn’t forgotten. It took him a few moments, sure… But then he started to move.  

Violent. That was the one word that summarized what dancing to Kaonite music was supposed to look like, and Sideswipe had never been a bad dancer. Not among the Autobots either, but this here… This here was their natural element. Their upbringing.

Them.  

The beat of the music was heavy, so was the impact of Sideswipe’s pedes on the deck. His optics were closed, there was a smile on his face—not one of those empty grins he wore all the time, but a genuine one speaking volumes of how much he was enjoying this. Expressing himself in all the right ways, holding nothing back.

Fuck the Autobots. Fuck what they’d tried to make them. Fuck them for trying to make them deny themselves every step of the way.

Through every savage spin, every strike of his pedes against the floor, the clang of it that timed itself just right to the music because Sideswipe knew how… His field danced around him, blown wide to let every spectator know how much he loved this.

Mecha got up and began to gather around Sideswipe, curious, though giving him plenty room, never straying closer to him than what Sunstreaker did—and Sunstreaker stood off to the side, his spark fluttering with Sideswipe’s enjoyment.

And it wasn’t as if Sideswipe’s half was the only one to appreciate this. Sunstreaker‘s did too. 

Their spark danced as well… As did a little something more as well. Sunstreaker raised one of his servos to his chestplates, rubbing over his spark chamber—over his scratched out Autobot insignia—unable to deny the little something flaring along with his spark. It enjoyed itself as much as they enjoyed themselves. His emotions reflected in it as it tested out what it was like to feel.  

This was what it was like to feel, to feel the music pound through their lines, to feel their fuel pump join the rhythm, to move to it and forget everything else just for the time—work hard, play hard, as it’d always been. The miners toiled under the lived-in decks only to come up when they had free time, populate the bars and the clubs, wasting what little credits they had… Gladiators, the ones allowed to leave the arenas, getting up to much of the same. They danced, they sang, they fucked with the kind of abandon of mecha who knew they could die tomorrow, so let’s make the most of today.

A heavy field entered the room and Sunstreaker glanced towards the doorway to see Megatron walking in, Starscream trailing after him and Thundercracker after Starscream. Was there a bit of curiosity in Megatron’s expression? Drawn here by all the noise?

The warlord walked to the crowd that had gathered to watch Sideswipe. His soldiers stepped out of his way to allow him to the very front. It was definitely curiosity on his face, muted, but there. Sideswipe opened his optics, focusing on Megatron and grinning. Then he stilled and reached his arm, palm up, inviting the tyrant to join him.

Megatron was Kaonite too, wasn’t he? He should know how.

There was a moment of stillness in the room while everyone waited for what he would do, what his answer would be–

And it was a bit unexpected when Megatron did step forward and walked over to Sideswipe. His brother was practically vibrating with anticipation, moving in place restlessly, dying to join the music again. He still waited while Megatron listened to the music for a moment, catching onto the rhythm–

And then he moved, one pede forward, and Sideswipe moved one pede back, and that was all there was before Megatron took the lead. He broadcasted every move before he made it, but they were all familiar, and Sideswipe knew exactly how to match each of them. He didn’t have to think when Megatron led him through every motion, whether flowing or sudden—the clash of pede against the deck that vibrated under their combined strength, and the clash of palm against palm when they brought their servos together in a fleeting point of contact between them… The spins, the turns, the sudden reversal of your motion until your frame ached.  

How long had it been since they’d felt this? The sensation, both physical and that of the spark and mind as you were led through a dance that sometimes emulated controlled fighting in its savagery when one wrong move would have landed dents on the other.

But Megatron knew what he was doing, and so did Sideswipe. There were no dents, just the exhilarating close calls that were intended to be no more than just that: close calls, motions that were aborted and rewound inches from your partner—if you had the skill.

Megatron did. Sideswipe did too, even if Megatron did most of the work now, Sideswipe merely the one that answered the orders Megatron gave with his body. They went fast, they went heavy, just like it was supposed to go, and Sunstreaker’s vents threatened to seize every few moments from the sheer excitement of it. His spark pulsed fast, pulling the little one into its rejoicing.

And it was rejoicing. It was finding a part of themselves again, a part of the culture they had always been proud of and had never wanted to bury. But who among the Autobots would have known to dance like this, willingly risking injuries with a partner so much larger and stronger than you were? Jazz, maybe, that mech knew far too much about everything and hid far too many skills under his friendly facade.

But who among the Autobots would have accepted this, a piece of what was so inherently Decepticon? So inherently Kaon, where the whole damn enemy faction had come from.

Sideswipe was crying, in a way. Tears were running down his face even as he responded to every single move Megatron made, but it wasn’t pain, it wasn’t sadness.

Just happiness, and that knot in him… It unraveled further. This was staying true to themselves and the past they had never wanted to be ashamed of—and hadn’t ever been, really, no matter how many times they were told they should hate it, apologize for it, see the error of their ways, redeem themselves. 

Not here. There were smiles around them, some knowing, others just entertained. No judgment.

Sideswipe’s fans were whirring fast by the time Megatron stepped away from, only to–

Turn to Sunstreaker. And like Sideswipe had invited Megatron, Megatron now invited him, arm reached, palm up. 

Sideswipe grinned behind the warlord before quietly slipping to join the sidelines. Sunstreaker only waited long enough to fake consideration, but from the beginning… There was no question on what he wanted to do.

He stepped forward and placed his far smaller servo onto Megatron’s. It closed around his, and just like that Megatron tugged him over, Sunstreaker going without any undue resistance. He was released only after he stood in front of Megatron, and off they were. Megatron took the lead again, as if he was used to always taking control —and he probably was. And Sunstreaker knew just as well as Sideswipe how to respond to all of it, when to move back, when to the side, when forward, when to turn his frame, when to meet Megatron’s palm with his own and where.  

But Sunstreaker also knew how to turn the tables. He was the one that forced Megatron to retreat lest he break their dance, he became the one that directed the course of things, the one that led.

Megatron narrowed his optics at him, knowing exactly what he was doing. Sunstreaker’s mouth tugged into a smile, even more so when Megatron followed one motion of his only to throw it right back in his face and force him to follow unless he really wanted to get hit.

His fans were soon whirring just as hard as Sideswipe’s, his optics darkening as someone raised the volume of the music until it thumped through the air and throughout his frame. The sparklet pulsed urgently at him, demanding more of this, of the excitement that created a true storm in his spark—the experience of fighting Megatron once again, even if not in quite the same way he had before.

Back and forth, back and forth they traded their leadership, losing and reclaiming it in one rousing battle of wills—that Sunstreaker eventually admitted defeat on, when his frame began to betray him a bit too much for him to fully trust it anymore. Megatron, victorious, like he always was, led him even through the distraction of his titillation.  

Sideswipe grinned as he watched it all, flying on the high of their spark. This was… Better than he’d ever dared to hope. He had never forgotten Kaon, had never stopped considering it his home, the place where he’d always… Belonged, almost. 

He’d all but lost hope that he’d ever get even a fraction of it back, though. If the Autobots won, he could only imagine how thoroughly they’d try to wipe that aspect of their planet and species right off the map, because it was that that had given birth to the rebellion that had risen to threaten the Primacy. In that event, what would he have been except stuck with the reality and future the Autobots wanted to build?

But it didn’t have to be like that. They could have this, too. They could fight to make this the future.

Did they want to?

There was one sour face in the midst of it all, though. Starscream hung back, his face held in a firm scowl. 

But, extremely handily, Thundercracker was only a few steps away from Sideswipe, and the twin weaseled his way over to the Seeker to end up next to him. Thundercracker gave him a questioning look, but didn’t shoo him off. 

There was little hope of talking out loud with all the rhythmic noise filling the room, so Sideswipe employed short range comms instead. ::Why’s Starscream look like he tried to eat a lemon?::

Thundercracker glanced in the direction of his trine leader, then chuckled. ::He’s jealous,:: the Seeker grinned, and apparently now it was fully confirmed that Starscream just did not like the amount of attention Megatron was giving Sunstreaker.

But Thundercracker continued, ::Plus, Sunstreaker dares to be better at something than he is.::

Sideswipe laughed at that. ::The dancing?::

::Yeah.::

It made sense. Why would a Vosian know how to dance in the Kaonite style as well as a born and bred Kaonite did, if they knew how to dance in that style at all? And their wings would’ve been bound to get in the way, too.

Poor Starscream, getting outdone by a pretty frontliner way below him in rank. Didn’t sit too well with him, apparently. 

Sideswipe’s attention was drawn back to the dancing pair when Megatron pulled Sunstreaker against himself. That really wasn’t part of the usual moves, but Sunstreaker was venting hard and they were staring at each other in the optic pretty intently.

Sideswipe’s grin widened. ::Those two are gonna head somewhere more private right about now.::

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