#Leans heavy into his persona and kind of forgets how to be anyone else

[paisleywraith]

Wait, he is a hero, right?

[heartsywritesthethings]

Sk8: The Sleepover

Author: GA!babe

Summary: The gang’s all here for a sleepover at Reki’s! In a discussion of skate names, Reki finds himself the center of attention after getting flustered by the mere mention of the word “tickle” (2,842 words)

“Langa! Glad you came!” Reki exclaimed as he opened the door to find his best friend standing there. 

And then he looked behind the boy and saw…four other people right behind him.

“Uh, what are they doing here?” Reki asked, trying not to sound too rude, but it’s not like he wanted to invite two grown men, a clown, and a literal child over to his house as well. It was just supposed to be him and Langa tonight.

“Oh, well when you told me that your mom and sister were out of town for some mother-daughter bonding, I thought it would be nice if everyone came along.” Langa said with a smile. It made Reki wonder again why that smile made his heart flip flop. This boy? The one with a pile of snow in place of a brain?

“That’s not a problem, right, Reki?” Miya asked, snaking himself around Langa’s legs and looking up at the red head with his big puppy-dog eyes. 

Reki took a deep breath.

“No, of course not. Come on in,” Reki sighed and took a small step aside so everyone could walk into his house. The house that he wasn’t supposed to have anyone else in while his mother and sister were away. That one. 

“Nice place you have here, Reki. I’m sure the ladies love a humble man who lives with his mom,” Joe teased on his way in, ruffling the kid’s hair.

“Just so you know, Carla said there was a 95% chance that we were seen by one of your neighbors. I hope you aren’t grounded for too long after your mother finds out,” Cherry said as he slid by.

“Thanks for telling me,” Reki whined, his shoulders slumping. Great. Now it was almost guaranteed that he would be grounded when his mom got back.

“Wait, you’re not allowed to have people over? Why didn’t you say so?” Shadow hissed, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone was outside looking at him.

“Well, that’s not exactly–” Langa began.

“What kind of flowers does your mom like? I can get her a vase before she even gets home,” Shadow continued. taking out a little notepad from his pocket and waiting for a response.

“Uh, she likes lillies I think?” Reki said with a dry chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Shadow scribbled it down with a frown.

“Not exactly the best of apology flowers, but I’ll see what I can do,” the older man grumbled as he stepped into the house.

“Sorry for ruining your date night, Reki. Sleepovers are fun though. Do you think we should braid each other’s hair?” Miya said, popping a bubblegum bubble as he also walked into the house.

“Date?” Reki squeaked, his face turning a rather nice shade of pink. Miya just laughed as he skipped towards the couch.

“You will not get your little claws on my hair!” Cherry snapped from the other room.

And then he was alone with Langa. The guy he had wanted here…alone in the house. 

“Sorry, was I not supposed to invite them over?” Langa asked, smiling awkwardly. Reki couldn’t help but melt just a little. How could he say no to that face?

“Ah, no, you’re fine. I just forgot to ask for them over too. I just got, uh, busy with a new…new board! Yeah! Thanks. You saved me the trouble.” Reki stammered awkwardly, shuffling on his feet. Langa smiled softly and their shoulders bumped as he stepped in. 

Reki closed the door with a sigh.

This was going to be a long night.

~ ~ ~

“Alright, what are we going to watch?” Miya asked, jumping onto the couch, quickly getting comfortable against the pillow in the corner.

“Watch? This is a party, right? We drink and play games until dawn!” Joe announced, sitting down on the couch and stretching his arms high over his head. 

“You’re an idiot,” Cherry huffed, looking around with a barely concealed look of disgust. He looked between the couch, chair, and love-seat, before deciding that he was perfectly fine standing right here thank you very much. 

“I’m an idiot? I’m just trying to make things fun around here!” Joe exclaimed, looking around to see if anyone agreed with him. 

“Did you forget how old he was? He’d get in more trouble if his mom found empty sake bodies around the house,” Shadow huffed as he took his spot next to Joe. The burly man scowled at being sat next to a clown, but he didn’t protest too much. 

“Well, there’s only so long she can ground me.” Reki chuckled before plopping down on the nearby love-seat. Langa sat down next to him, not at all bothered by how incredibly close they were.

“I’m sure she won’t be too mad, Reki,” Langa said and pat his friend on the back. 

“Well, if we can’t drink, then why exactly are we here? What are we going to do?” Joe groaned, dragging a hand down his face dramatically.

“What were you expecting? He was probably going to play spin the bottle with his new boyfriend, right Reki?” Miya teased, a shit eating grin on his little face. “Maybe swap spit and make babies?”

“Miya, do you know how–?” Joe began before Shadow smacked him in the face with a heavy pillow.

“I will not be explaining that on my night off,” Shadow grumbled with a shake of his head. Reki and Langa stifled their giggles, giving each other matching looks.

“What? What’s so funny?” Miya hissed, his face turning pink as he realized that there was something that the adults knew that he definitely wasn’t aware of.

“You’ll know when you’re older,” Cherry said with a sigh and a shake of his head.

Reki laughed even harder at that. 

“Stop it, guys! What is it? What did I say?” Miya whined, crossing his arms over his chest and just outright pouting. He had been bullied in school before, but this felt different. Sure, they were laughing, but there was no real malice behind it.

“We are not doing this tonight,” Shadow groaned, “Why can’t we just find monopoly or something?”

Reki laughed harder, leaning back against the back of the love-seat. Langa looked up and down the red-head.

“Really tickled over there, aren’t you Gearhead?” Cherry mused. 

Reki’s laughter dissolved into a coughing fit.

“Wh-what?” Reki spluttered, his face turning an even brighter shade of bright red. 

“What? Not Gearhead? Gears? Sunshine?” Cherry mused, finally sitting down, but on the arm of the couch. 

“Those are all terrible skate names. How about Mech? TechDeck?” Joe chimed in.

“Oh, and Joe is such a cool skating name?” Cherry scoffed.

“With all this going on? Keeping it simple is how the ladies don’t get too overwhelmed by my awesomeness,” Joe shot back, flexing his arms for everyone to see.

“We could call him Fire? Opposite of Snow there?” Shadow said with a wink in Langa’s direction. This was the type of teasing that he could get behind because it wasn’t some complicated nonsense that he would have to explain to a child.

“How about Red? Like his face when you said that word?” Miya said, getting up off of the couch and sauntering over to where the two teenagers were sitting. 

“Gearhead?” Langa asked, looking between Reki and the sly cat-like boy who was stalking his way over to them.

“Tickle.” Miya said plainly. Reki went an even brighter shade of red, closely resembling his own hair at the moment.

“Wh-What? I was just…thinking that Gearhead was such a stupid name that-uh…I dunno. It was ridiculous,” Reki said with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“I am insulted by that, Reki. Nicknames are incredibly important on the S. You’ll need to figure something out so that you’re not in Snow’s shadow every time to you step on a board.” Cherry said. Now he was the one pouting.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that, Cherry. It was just–” Reki continued, glancing between Miya and Cherry. 

“He’s just too shy to admit that the word tickle got him all bothered like this,” Miya said smugly and jumped onto the arm of the love-seat.

“Why would something like that bother you, Reki?” Langa asked, all innocent, but Reki could swear he could see evil behind those bright blue eyes. 

“It doesn’t bother me. I think Miya is just upset that we teased him a little.” Reki insisted, feeling like he was just a piece of red juicy meat and his friends just all turned into starving lions. 

He could practically feel his skin buzzing.

“You sound really defensive, kid.” Joe said, leaning forward with a smirk on his face. “Are you that ticklish?”

“There’s only one way to find out!” Miya said and jumped forward–

Only to be stopped by Langa. Reki cowered with a squeak, pressed hard against the back of the love-seat.

“As much I would love to see Reki tickled to pieces, it’s not very fair if we all gang up against him like this, don’t you guys think so?” Langa asked, looking around. Reki sighed in relief at first before realizing what exactly the former snowboarder had said.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, shaking his head frantically.

“And how do you propose we do that, Snow?” Cherry asked, now definitely intrigued as to how exactly the blue-haired boy planned to get Reki in a puddle of giggles. 

“Without killing him of course,” Shadow added with a pointed look. Sure, he liked to cause chaos and make people laugh (especially as his clown skater persona) but five against one was a bit much. 

“Sure, we can play a regular party game.” Langa said with a shrug and turned to his friend and a pouting cat-boy. “Reki, truth or dare?”

Reki looked around and huffed.

“Truth.” He said with a small nod. No way he would say dare after all that nonsense about the damn t-word.

“Alright, where’s your most ticklish spot?” Langa asked calmly.

How the hell could Langa say shit like that without blushing?

“I don’t want to play this game. It’s rigged.” Reki grumbled. Now he was red from the tips of his ears to the base of his neck. After he let all of these hooligans into his house when he knew he would be grounded later… they treat him like this? Totally uncool.

“Alright, how many of us do you think you could handle tickling you? Surely you’re not that ticklish, Red.” Miya teased and stuck out his tongue.

“And what about you, Miya? You wouldn’t happen to be ticklish, would you?” Shadow asked, looking between Miya and Reki.

“You never answered the question, Reki.” Langa said with a smirk on his face. 

“Alright, fine. You guys are bullies.” Reki huffed. “I don’t have any. You all are just wasting your time. Why don’t we pop a movie or something in the–”

And just like that, Langa was on top of him. He was shoved to the very corner of the love-seat with Langa practically straddling his waist.

“You can’t lie during the game, Reki. That’s not how you play,” Langa said with a shake of his head. “Where should we test out first?”

“Langa, come on, don’t do this. I’ll teach you a new skateboarding trick if you let me go right now. Maybe even make you some of my special ramen,” Reki rambled, kicking his feet out on the couch as he scrambled to get away. Langa snatched both of Reki’s wrists and pulled them above his head.

“Miya, would you be so kind to hold onto these for me?” Langa asked sweetly. 

“With pleasure,” Miya hummed, grabbing Reki’s wrists and holding them as tight as he could. 

“I would also like to join in on the fun!” Joe said, jumping up from the couch and running over to where the others were getting ready to tear Reki apart.

“Alright, you guys have five minutes, and then you have to let him go.” Shadow said, laying down on the now empty couch and getting comfortable. He took out his phone and pulled up the timer app.

“Five minutes?” The four said in unison, though Reki was more upset with how long time seemed to pass when he was getting tickled to all hell. 

Not that it happened often, mind you, but before he had skateboarding, he had more friends and those friends definitely took advantage of how ticklish he was time and time again. 

It had really been a while since he had been tickled to pieces and a part of him was…excited? Maybe?

No, that couldn’t be right.

“Time starts now,” Shadow said as he pressed the start button.

Langa went first, poking and prodding at the exposed belly of his best friend. Reki grit his teeth, refusing to let them get the satisfaction of hearing him break right away. Maybe if he doesn’t laugh, they’ll get bored.

Was Reki sure that he wanted them to get bored?

Joe snatched up the red-head’s legs and put his ankles into an armlock.

“Trying the tough-guy act, huh, Red-Mech?” Joe asked, swiping a finger down Reki’s foot. 

Reki yelped, jerking his legs. His heart sank as he realized that he could barely move as they all held onto him.

Then came the pinches up his ribs.

“How many ribs do you think you have, Sunshine?” Langa asked as he pinched up and down Reki’s ribs. 

“I-ACK! Stop! Lahahnga! Quit!” Reki gasped, a laugh managing to escape as he pleaded for his ticklish life. 

“Was that a laugh I heard, Ticklee?” Miya asked from his perch on the arm of the love-seat.

“What’s that nickname?” Langa asked as he continued to squeeze up and down Reki’s ribs as if he weren’t completely tormenting him right now.

“Oh you know, like how you’re the tickl-er, that must mean he’s the tickl-ee, right?” Miya asked sweetly.

“Shuhuhut up!” Reki exclaimed. He didn’t know what was worse. Was it the teasing with the actual word, or the fact that Langa seemed to not care about all of this? 

And Joe decided to chime in again, but this time lightly scratching his fingernails up an down Reki’s arches. Just as Langa decided to zero in on his other weak spot too. Well, weaker. 

Now that the truth was out, they would all know that Reki was just one big walking tickle spot.

However, Langa just found that Reki’s underarms were insanely ticklish, just like the bottoms of his feet. Just as Joe had started on his arches, Langa decided to lightly scratch under his arms too, one finger under each as if he were testing the waters.

“AH! OHOHOHOHOKAY! Okay!” Reki barked, his whole body jerking and his head thrown back.

“Wow, okay what?” Langa asked teasingly, stopping his tickling as he realized the hefty reaction from his friend was because of what he and Joe had done.

“Alright, you got mehehe,” Reki said and tugged on his arms.

“You still have four minutes, Firetop,” Shadow chimed in from his spot on the couch.

“How about just one more minute, Shadow? I think we found the answers we were looking for,” Langa said smugly. Shadow nodded and changed the timer. If they were going for the death spots, it would only be fair to Reki for them to shave off a few minutes.

“You’re no fun, Snow.” Miya huffed.

“And you are definitely next, kitty,” Langa said with a pointed look at Miya. He then turned to Joe. “You ready?”

“Of course. I’m waiting for you kids to finish with whatever. ” Joe said before getting back into it.

For one full minute, Reki was in ticklish heaven hell. Langa altered between digging his thumbs into Reki’s armpits and lightly tickling around Reki’s neck and ears while Joe tickled and scratched up and down Reki’s poor defenseless feet.

When the timer ran out, Shadow snatched Miya up and tossed him playfully onto the couch. Cherry snatched Joe by the ear and pulled him away from a giggling mess of a skateboarder. Langa pulled himself off too, but Reki grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled himself closer. 

“Alright, your turn,” Shadow said as he began tickling little Miya to pieces, mainly clawing at and around the little monster’s belly button, getting him cackling in no-time.

“Now I’m in a tickle monster mood, what do you think, Cherry? Like old times?” Joe asked before diving on top of him and digging into the pink-haired man’s hips. Soon, Cherry and Miya’s laughter and giggles filled the living room as Reki curled up in Langa’s lap and watched the scene unfold. Langa ran his fingers through the red hair of his tickled out best friend.

“Thanks for inviting everyone, Langa,” Reki hummed sleepily. “But I’m definitely going to get you back for this one.”

“Alright, Sunshine,” Langa said and fluttered his fingers by Reki’s ear. The red-head squeaked and scrunched his shoulders up protectively.

[twstoric]

small perseverance

𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒚𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒅: Hey~ May I request scenario for octatrio with a dom!s/o who likes to take pictures while sex ? Thanks you if you do it~

𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: azul ashengrotto x gn!reader, jade leech x gn!reader, floyd leech x gn!reader

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: you want so badly to capture this perfect moment—luckily it’s not so hard to do so

𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘(𝕤): pictures taken while having sex, video taping, toys, dom!reader, light bondage

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 2.3k (total)

𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: i see the dom!reader agenda is well liked in these waters 👀 and who am i to not deliver? 💞

Azul Ashengrotto

The room is dark lited, a dim lamp in the far corner of the room the only source of light. Of course it means little when the only light Azul can see is the bright flash of your camera. His face is flushed in a dark colour of red; sweat glistening his forehead. His vision blurs slightly—from the flash of light or tears, Azul isn’t sure. But without doubt, as another wave of pleasure crashes over him, his mind is only filled with you.

Your fingers gently pry him open, caressing his walls and spreading him open with gentle curls. You’ve memorised each and every part of Azul’s body thoroughly; mapping his body with precision and care in your mind and… the little object placed next to the bed.

Standing tall and angled carefully sits a camera. Attached to a tripod and placed in the perfect spot to capture every expression Azul makes. You’ve set the camera to auto; taking pictures with a bright flash every few minutes. Your fingers in the writhing male curls with perfect timing; the gentle strokes abruptly turned into rough thrusts, staying in tune with every picture taken.

“Azul~ You’re leaking all over yourself,” clicking your tongue, the tone of your voice drops. A disappointed sigh leaves your lips deliberately but in his hazy mind, the sound makes Azul whimper. 

His hands curl and uncurl, finding nothing to hold onto and the glasses-clad male could only bite his fist to stop the moans spilling past his lips. His cock twitches with another curl of your fingers, right against his prostate and the camera flashes. His cock is flushed an angry colour, leaking heavily against his stomach just demanding attention. “I- I’m sorry, I’m sorry-!” Azul chants like a mantra, eyes closed shut and he bites his fingers on a whimper.

He faintly hears you hum and a sharp gasp lips his lips when you suddenly push his legs apart. “Wh- what..?” A faint whimper leaves the dorm leader when your fingers pull out of his hole harshly. He bites his tongue, willing himself to not complain as both your hands take hold of his leg. 

“You’re flexible aren’t you, baby?” You question, not waiting for a reply as you push his knee closer to his chest. Azul’s lungs are failing him. He grunts, legs kicking out weakly on instinct as you bend him in half. You situate yourself right against his back, torso pressed firmly to Azul’s back to keep him upright and a sadistic glee settles in your stomach at being so close to that gaping hole. 

His body is practically bent in half, folded to your liking and all the blood rushes to Azul’s head in the position. His precum drips down his chest like this, landing down on his flushed skin and Azul is so embarrassed once releasing this position makes his ass impossibly close to you. “S- stop it! This position is..!” His complaints go unheard, replaced with a loud gasp when you bite his ass cheek. The camera flashes.

“Now, now, don’t talk too much.” You advise sweetly, arms snaking around his torso to pull him impossibly closer to you. Azul’s legs hang in the air uselessly and you’re pleased that he’s not struggling lest he wants to hurt himself. It’s actually quite amazing how flexible he is…

Hugging him close, you secure one arm to keep hold of this position while the other lightly traces his aching cock. Your fingers curl around the hard length as you gather saliva in your mouth. Parting your lips, you angle your face above his hole, letting your tongue out to drip your spit over him. 

Azul gasps and whimpers pathetically, his body trapped under your mercy as your lips finally descend down and you’re eating him out. His body freezes, jolting and jumping about uselessly as your fingers wrapped around his cock starts squeezing. Your thumb plays with the head of his dick, using his cum on his cock and your spit on his ass.

The shocks of pleasure thrum in Azul’s veins and his mind finally realises why you put him in this position. Tears spring up to his eyes, you can be so cruel. He can’t move in this position; not to buck his cock into your hands or grind his ass back against your mouth. You have him completely under your bidding. 

He groans weakly, legs twitching in the air. “P.. please,” the word is the only thing he could say; mind clouding over. You hum, sending vibrations down his spine and Azul’s back arches weakly. 

With one last suck, you pull away from Azul’s gaping hole, your hand picking up pace and a violent shudder rakes through Azul’s body as he cums, heavy spurts landing on his chest and face. Feeling generous, you gently reposition Azul back on the bed and you climb over him. Licking the cum over his lips, a smile blooms on your face as your hand creeps between his legs. 

“Smile for the camera~”

Jade Leech

“You always do look good on camera,” you muse, a dreamy sigh leaving your lips. Your eyes close briefly, the image of Jade popping in your mind and a smile breaks over your face. When you open your eyes again, the sight in front of you is even better than the one in your head.

Breath short and staggering, not a single trace of the usual poised persona, is Jade. His face holds an embarrassed scowl, lips trembling with his legs spread wide apart. You hear the faint click of the camera shutter going off from beside you, angled solely on Jade’s body. He doesn’t say anything to your comment—no snarky remarks or teasing smirks, just a mess of a man by your doing.

Jade’s lips purse in a thin line, looking down at the way your hands are teasing the edge of the dildo inside him but you don’t do anything else; just admiring him. He sighs on a shaky breath, “D- do you perhaps need something..? You seem distracted.” His legs spread a bit wider, silently signaling you to do something as his fingers curl against the sheets.

Unlike what he expects you to do, Jade only receives a brief caress to his hip and you’re moving to grab the camera. “You’re rather obsessed with that aren’t you…?” He questions wryly, brows furrowing in worry. Will you get distracted now? He hasn’t even cumed yet- how terrible of you.

Another surprise for him (he seems to be more surprised easily with your antics), you raise the camera over your face, looking through the lenses and angling towards him. Jade blinks, momentarily forgetting about the ache in his body. You want to… take a picture of him? In this position when you’re so close…

A small chuckle leaves your lips and the camera’s light blinks, indicating that you’ve started recording. Jade’s face burns. “You look so good, Jade…” Your voice drips with seduction and you’re suddenly thrusting the dildo deeper. A surprised sound escapes the back of his throat and Jade can’t prepare himself for the sudden rough pace you’ve set, angling the dildo to find that sweet spot and when you finally do (not that it took much time), you’re relentless hitting that spot over and over again.

Jade grunts and moans weakly with every brush against his prostate, mind blanking in pleasure and every obscene sound, expression; every small twitch of his body is captured by the camera in your hands. You keep a steady pace, panning your camera down to capture the dildo you’re fucking him with. His thighs jump with every intrusion, cock bouncing against his stomach as you thrust in deeper.

The screen of your camera glows with the focus of Jade’s lewd body but your eyes are trained on his face. Focusing on that small opening when his face will twist, bottom lip caught between his teeth and…

A final shove of the dildo inside him and you stop. Jade’s body flinches away from you as if you’ve set fire on him, a look of wild disbelief on his face from the reality that you’ve ripped his climax away from him. You saw that he was close and stopped. Jade thinks he’s never met anyone as cruel. “U- unbelievable..” he murmurs weakly, voice wet and tears springing to his eyes. Your camera angels back to his face. That’s the expression you want to see. 

You have to bite back the giggle rising up your throat, a smile on your lips as you climb over his legs, closing them together to be able to straddle him. Jade refuses to look at you (because he’s upset or thinking about something, you’re not sure) but you capture his attention soon enough when you reach back and grab his cock. 

Your hold on him is light, giving his cock a gentle squeeze as if you’re apologising for all your wrong doings. “I’m sorry, Jade,” your voice is airy; the apology holds no real meaning. A smile spreads on your lips, understanding and kind—the complete opposite of your intentions. You lean back, grabbing the dildo and slowly pull it out, eyes trained on the way Jade’s face scrunches just the slightest bit. 

Once the toy is fully out, you throw it away uncaringly, hearing a small clatter behind you before you reach back again; this time, going for his cock. Angling his tip to your waiting hole, a shudder runs down your body as his tip breaches past your opening. You angle your camera to his face.

��Won’t you show me more expressions?”

Floyd Leech

A sharp whine leaves Floyd’s lips, ass pushing back behind him. Droll spills over his mouth, opened erotically with moans spilling from his lips without shame. He blinks his eyes to stay focused before looking back at you over his shoulder, cheeks puffing in annoyance. “Stop playing with me!” He demands, wiggling his ass back and you move away with a brow raised. 

Floyd curses loudly, pressing his face against the wooden table. He can’t chase you when his hands are tied to the opposite leg of the table; body draped over the hard counter. It’s fucking cold having his bare skin pressed up on the table like this, hands stretched in front of him and only his legs supporting him up. 

You had been fingering him for awhile—playing with his insides before you up and decided to just stop. If he wasn’t tied down, Floyd would have pushed you against the table and fucked you unforgivingly. He huffs, placing his chin on the table and facing forward. He doesn’t like to wait but tonight, you seem to want him to do just that.

His eyes blink slowly, brows furrowed and he half-mindedly pays attention to the device in front of him. The teal-headed male perks up, blinking a couple of times and pushes himself up by the elbows. His head tilts, watching the steady blinking of the camera in front of him. Looking back at you, he duly notes that you’re busy lubing up a rather large dildo; his cock twitches in interest.

“Ne, why do you like taking pictures so much?” 

Your hand pauses in coating the dildo with lube. You take a moment to process his question before a wide smile spreads on your face. Your body vibrates with excitement, taking quick strides to the tied up male and leaning closer to Floyd’s face until you’re practically covering his larger form. “Because~ I get to keep such precious scenes like this for myself,” you whisper, lifting back up and sliding your fingers between his ass.

Floyd hums at your brief explanation. He doesn’t really get it but… but as long as you’ll keep doing this to him, he won’t complain. The camera clicks and Floyd looks at it again; the light still blinking rhythmically. He lays his forehead against the table, a rough grunt in his throat when you finally give him the attention and slowly pushes the dildo inside.

The shape this time is much different than what he’s taken before, Floyd blearily notes as you slowly pull the dildo in and out, starting at a gentle pace. The shape of the head is slightly more enlarged than the girth, spreading him wider and stuffing him full with every push. “Ngh..” he breathes softly, pushing back when you pick up pace. 

You’re full on fucking him now; a brutal force with every thrust and your arm is starting to ache but you can’t get enough of how Floyd moans loudly. He’s never one to shy away from voicing himself but the sounds he lets out sounds much more sweeter. Small gasps and moans leaving his lips accompanies the obscene sounds of the dildo going in and out of his hole. His legs quiver to stay up, knees buckling slightly when your other hand takes hold of his balls.

Floyd gasps, the table scraping against the floor when he shifts closer to you—as close as his restraints would allow him. He’s arms are losing its feeling, his fingertips growing cold with the lack of steady blood flow; restraint digging in his skin but Floyd pays that no mind. He has to get closer to you—fuck himself harder against your hand or he’ll grow crazy.

His head hangs low on the table, drool dripping on the wooden counter and you frown when realising that you won’t be perceiving much in this position. Reaching forward, your fingers tangle in his hair before you jerk his head back with a rough pull.

Floyd gasps loudly, his back bending in an unnatural way with the way you’re pulling him back against you. His drool trails down to his neck, face flushed a bright red and eyes struggling to stay opened. Your lips press against the shell of his ear, “Don’t hide your face now, Floyd..” You sound breathless despite not the one getting fucked. A breathy whine leaves Floyd’s lips when you strike his prostate.

“Show the camera everything~”

[rumpledgoldenweaver]

The Gold Boys

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling  November prompt “Like Father, Like Son” this is a Storybrooke based AU that has been rattling around in my head for a while. When Rumple stabs Peter Pan he doesn’t die instead he turns back into Malcolm and stays that way. Since Bae/Neal and Henry are in town too, Rumple finds himself with more family than he knows what to do with.

He wasn’t hiding. Not really. Anyone could walk through the door of the shop, the little bell jangling their arrival and find him leaning on the counter. There was a cloth spread out over the glass top, a small bottle of silver polish and a second cloth that he was using to buff up every single piece he could find. Mindless, repetitive work. His spinning wheel stood motionless, he couldn’t face that. Far too many memories of times far too long ago that he didn’t want to think about for now. No, he could retreat back into his Mr Gold persona. Pawnbroker, landlord and loan shark. Mr Gold didn’t need to concern himself with the return of errant fathers, long lost sons, new found grandsons and a girlfriend. Mr Gold didn’t need family and the complications that came with it.

And for as long as he could get away with pretending that suited Rumpelstiltskin just fine.

Neal Cassidy wasn’t hiding either. No Ma’am, he was seated at the counter of Granny’s Diner nursing a cup of coffee in full view of anyone passing by. He opened up the Angry Birds app on his phone, firing pissed off birds at smug looking pigs. You wouldn’t know to look at him that he was the son of the Dark One, father of the boy with the Heart of the Truest Believer (don’t forget the capital letters) and grandson of Peter Pan – Malcolm as he was now known. It sounded ordinary in comparison. But then so did Neal when you stood it next to Balefire.

A pixalated pig exploded when a cartoon piece of timber fell on it’s head, he smiled in satisfaction. Bae would have been fascinated by the game. But Bae wasn’t there. Neal Cassidy was and for now he too could pretend that his real personality didn’t exist.  

Malcolm had no choice but to hide. After his disastrous defeat at the hands of his son, being unceremoniously turned back into an adult and finding that blaming his alter ego for everything wasn’t going to work, he’d holed up in a room at the inn called Granny’s – what kind of name for an establishment was that anyway? - and there he had stayed. There wasn’t a cursed or invented persona to provide him with knowledge as to how this land without magic worked. He lay on the bed and sighed. Most of the basics seemed the same, a bed was a bed, a table was a table, water was water. The bathroom had been a revelation. Instead of an iron tub in front of the fire, there was some fancy looking contraption called a shower – it reminded him of a waterfall and a thing called a toilet that he really didn’t trust. What was wrong with a good old fashioned hole in the ground or a nearby tree?

He did know he couldn’t avoid his son forever. Or his grandson. Or his great grandson. People he’d traded away in exchange for eternal youth. If he was very honest he’d admit that it hadn’t all been a barrel of laughs and that he was, very deep down, relieved to be himself again. Malcolm wasn’t given to honesty though.

Henry was beside himself with excitement. He had a father, a grandpa and a great grandpa! None of their stories were fully complete in his book and now a golden opportunity had presented itself for him to find out all the facts. He reckoned his mothers would be fine with him talking to his dad and his grandpa but Peter.. Malcolm.. not so much. Frowning he began tapping his pen on the notebook that lay open on his bed. This was an operation and as such it needed a name. There were so many names involved – Gold, Cassidy, Swan, Mills and whatever Malcolm’s surname was.. Pan? Henry crossed his mothers names off. He knew about them. Staring at the list one name stood out to him above all the others. He smiled.

Operation Gold Boys.

“Henry for the tenth time I am absolutely positive your Grandpa won’t mind you asking him questions. In fact I’m sure it’ll make his day. Talk to him really nicely and he might show you some of the old Dark One razzle dazzle”

Henry snorted a laugh as his dad made a weird looking gesture with his arms

“I’m a little out of practice” Bae pushed open the door to his father’s shop and ushered his own son inside “Hi Papa”

Rumple’s smile could have illuminated the entire town “Hello Bae! Hi Henry. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure”

“Henry has questions for you. About your life” Bae winced slightly as the same smile froze but carried on anyway “I said you’d be okay with it and that he should talk to Belle too since she knew you after I….left…”

That earned him an eye roll from Henry. Seriously grown ups. Little wonder everyone still clung to their old scores and rivalries. How could anyone move on when they couldn’t even have a simple conversation.

“What Dad means is…”

“It’s okay Henry, I know what he means and no I don’t mind you asking providing that depending on the question I might choose not to answer”

“Deal” grinned Henry pulling a notebook from his coat pocket and setting it down on the counter “Now then…”

Despite his misgivings Rumple answered all of his grandson’s questions, he particularly enjoyed reminiscing about his days back in village with Bae and making his son squirm by regaling tales of his youthful misdeeds. Henry listened in wonderment, his father’s childhood different to his own although he could sympathise completely with having a vilified practitioner of dark magic for a parent.

Some of the memories perhaps should have stayed put, however Henry listened without judgement. It seemed as if it all happened to someone else, Rumple merely the narrator, like reading from a book or interpreting a dream. All a long long time ago, in a place far far away.

Bae stayed quiet for the most part both amazed and amused at how his papa opened up to the young boy. The one he’d been convinced would be his downfall. There were stories that he had never heard before, like the real reason his father had needed a walking staff. It made his heart clench  as well as his stomach to think the man had dropped an enormous mallet on his foot and then walked home, branded a coward so that he could be there for the son he’d never even met at that point. The same son he’d taken a dark curse to save from the same battlefields fighting the same enemy. The same son he’d torn realms apart to search for just so he could apologise and tell him he loved him. Me. He did all that for me. Maybe Belle was right. Maybe he wasn’t beyond hope. Bae levelled his gaze at the floor, casually wiping at his eyes.

After they’d gone Rumple retreated into the back room, he gave the spinning wheel a push, it turned a couple of circles before slowing to a stop.  He sat down, picked up a bundle of straw and began threading it through the machine, losing himself in the spin of the wheel.

“I could never get that hang of that”

Rumple turned to see his father standing just inside the curtain that divided the back room from the shop.

“You didn’t have the patience”

“Couldn’t sit still for long enough”

“Indeed”

They lapsed into heavy silence that lasted maybe a couple of minutes but seemed more like hours.

It was Malcolm who spoke first

“So laddie, do you have anything decent to drink?”

Rumple paused for a whole minute before getting up from the wheel, going over to his desk, pulling a bottle of single cask whiskey and two glasses from the bottom drawer. Pouring two measures, his own slightly smaller, being tipsy around his father would not be a good idea.

“What do you want Papa?” there was a sarcastic tinge to the last word.

“To spend some time with my son”

Thankfully Rumple’s glass remained safely on the desk because if he’d been holding it he would have either smashed it into his fathers face or dropped on the floor.

“Ha! Well it took you bloody long enough but what’s almost three hundred years between family eh? Now that I’m not such a drain on your time and money you’ve decided to be one on mine is that it?”

“There’s no need for that laddie…”

“My name” Rumple spat “is not laddie. It’s Rumple Bloody Stiltskin, the longest, most ungodly name anyone has ever been saddled with” his eyes blazed making Malcolm take a couple of steps backwards.

“I was angry” he spluttered

“I was a child and you abandoned me”

“I left you with those spinster women. They looked after you. Kept you fed. You turned out alright besides you can’t talk about being abandoned. You did the same to Bae. Like father like son eh laddie”

Suddenly Malcolm felt the air rush from his lungs, his body propelled backwards by an unseen force, slamming into the wall. He tried to protest but forming words was impossible. He clawed at his throat desperately trying to find a breath.

“Don’t you dare” snarled Rumple advancing on the prone figure “Don’t you BLOODY DARE. I am nothing like you. NOTHING. I took the dagger to save my son from a war. You took your curse to avoid your responsibilities. Because you didn’t like being a grown up. BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T WANT ME!!”

“Papa that’s enough” Bae’s voice cut through the room but Rumple didn’t seem to hear him. He laid a hand on his father’s shoulder “I said that’s enough”

Malcolm dropped unceremoniously to floor. Rumple staggered backwards, Bae guided him to a chair “I’m sorry son. I lost my temper. I…”

“Shh. Papa it’s okay. It’s okay”

Malcolm groaned, trying to push himself up “A little help here eh”

Balefire and Rumple exchanged a look. The younger man went to assist his grandfather whilst Rumple tried to get his composure back. He knew he shouldn’t have lashed out, it’s probably the reaction his father was looking for. Always pushing to see how many lines could be crossed. He wiped his hand over his face “I apologise papa. I shouldn’t have done that”

Malcolm looked flustered, that wasn’t what he’d expected, his son was the Dark One and not known for showing remorse. He nodded “No harm done lad…son”

Bae smiled his approval.

“Stay still Papa and I’ll send you home” Rumple made to wave his hand.

“Wait! Can I come and see you tomorrow? I er I have know idea how this world works and I think I need new clothes. The only other person here dressed anything like me is that bloody pirate”

“I suppose we can’t have that now can we” Rumple almost smiled “We’ll organise you something more appropriate in the morning”

Malcolm was engulfed in a cloud of red smoke and disappeared. Bae was still smiling at him “I’m proud of you Pop”

Perhaps Rumple mused in his case it wasn’t like father like son but more a father trying to be more like his son.

 Read it on my blog here https://earlyrisingwriting.home.blog/2020/12/02/the-gold-boys/

[anika-ann]

Grease and Pearls - Pt.1

Uptown Meets Downtown

Type: One-shot turned three-shot (because does anyone really want a 17k in one go?)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (main), Tony/Reader, Tony/Pepper

Word count: 5230

Summary:  All you know is uptown; fancy clothes, expensive cars, jewellery outshining one’s personality and exhausting dinners with family acquaintances and business partners. Your life is all planned out; one day, you’ll marry Howard Stark’s son and you’ll be the golden couple adored by press.

You desperately seek to see life outside this suffocating glitz...and that’s how you meet Steve Rogers.

A/N: for a challenge hosted by @cxptain Congratulation to your milestone, you deserve nothing less! Thank you for hosting this amazing challenge and allowing me to take part in it! ...I’m not sure how 80′s this is :(

Prompt: Uptown Girl by Billy Joel

A/N 2: I added links to a pic of dresses I had in mind, feel free to ignore them or not :))

Warnings: swearing, mention of arranged marriage, ...fluff?

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Your sigh was drowned in the sea of voices as you slipped under the surface, the water closing above your head. The moment you opened your mouth to gasp for air, it filled with water instead, and you reached out to the sun glimmering above, trying to save yourself--

To be entirely honest, now you were being dramatic; however, shall anyone exchange places with you, you were sure they would feel the same about the company of artificial people in their best Sunday suits and fancy dress, sitting around the table pretending to be engaged in the small talk.

As your eyes fell on man seated opposite to you, a bowtie around his neck, one corner of his lips raised in a blend of a smile and a smirk, your mind drifted to your wonderful friend. 

Virginia Potts, or Pepper for short, a nickname saved for her friends only, would be much better of a match for Anthony than you. She was nothing short of a proper lady and her parents, while not as wealthy as yours, were much more liberal and supportive of her following her dreams. Pepper Potts was about to turn tables and start her own company from a scratch, businessmen be damned. Her mind was brilliant, her persona enchanting, her appearance turning heads wherever she went and her heart was overflowing with kindness and determination. She was about to make people question the very definition of doing business once she set her foot in the field.

Your parents’ thinking, on the other hand, froze in the sixties, maybe forties. You were meant to become a glorified housewife, albeit educated enough to teach her own kids. You never really minded that; it wasn’t what laid heavy in your mind. Anthony did.

Anthony’s parents were as strict as yours, never quite giving him a choice but to take over the family company and wickedly join it with your father’s by tying your families together one day.

Your future family and your love life were to be based on a business deal. The romance of it.

Tony wasn’t an unlikable person by any means; a genius, somewhat charming in his own slightly arrogant way, he even made for an entertaining company at times. Nevertheless, your affections for him couldn’t begin to even hope to grow beyond friendship. On top of that, it just happened to come that while he was meant to be in the charge of to-be-his company, his interest laid further in the progress of technology itself, in designing things, rather than in attending board meetings.

In other words; Pepper would have been a better match for Tony, much better equipped to lead an enterprise than you and Tony together and oh, let’s not forget, her feelings for Tony went beyond friendly, unlike yours. And they were mutual.

But here you were, sitting through another forcefully polite dinner with the Starks and you wanted to be anywhere but here-- you wanted to be somewhere where you could actually breathe.

As you inhaled shakily and possibly too loud for a lady, your sister Sharon shot you a scolding look. You wanted to scream. However, like the well-mannered girl you were, you fixed a smile for your guests instead and engaged in meaningless conversation until it was time to prepare for bed; you let Anthony kiss your knuckles in goodbye and ignored your father’s pleased smile that had your chest constricted, your stomach full of ice cubes instead of the butterflies you were supposed to feel when being with your future husband.

Your mother made a joke about Tony soon kissing a ring on your hand and you closed your eyes, swallowing the panic that didn’t leave you until the early hours of the morning, causing you to lose sleep.

Seeing your own exhausted expression in the mirror at the crack of dawn, you came to a decision.

You were to escape the tight bodice of your glamorous life if even for a minute.

And you were sure that your best friend, who happened to live closer to normal part of the city, was about to help you.

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The bell jingled as you entered the diner, black and white tile floor resembling a chessboard, albeit slightly shabby against your heels clicking with each step.

Maximoff’s the place was called and besides the funky chessboard floor, the interior was in warm colours, walls painted apricot, the counters, bar, tables, stools and chairs in caramel tones. Your lips automatically spread in a smile as you looked around, heading to the counter built right next to a bar, your eyes running over the specials of the day. As most of the names didn’t feel familiar, you took a mental note to kiss Pepper’s hands once you would reunite in the gallery where she was momentarily alone, providing you an alibi while you sneaked out.

“What’s a pretty thing like ya’ doin’ here? Ya’ lost, dollface?” a male voice startled you and your head snapped the direction it came from, finding a man dressed in a short-sleeved shirt with a strange logo of an eagle on his pocket and jeans. Chin-length brown hair framed his face, stubble rounding his smirking lips, his pale blue-grey eyes fixed on you.

He didn’t seem like he wanted to harm you, but the way he talked seemed strange and the fact you weren’t even sure if he talked to you made you uneasy. Dollface? Who called a woman that? Who called that anyone for that matter?

You smiled at him reluctantly, your heart speeding up. A sigh sounded next to him, out of your view, and another man spoke up, scolding the brunet.

“Lay off, Buck. You’re scaring the dame.”

The owner of the voice leaned away from the bar, his kind blue eyes and inviting expression causing your breath to hitch. Gosh, he was pretty with that subtle smile and ruffled blond hair. You figured they were colleagues since he was dressed in the same manner. You felt a bit inappropriate in your almost knee-length sunflower dress; you were sticking out like a sore thumb. The women in this diner sure weren’t dressed like you.

“Do you need any help?” the blond asked, his tone gentler and less challenging than Buck’s, , instantly putting you at ease; well, as much at ease as you could feel visiting a downtown diner for the first time, on your own, no less.

Your smile grew firmer, more confident, as you beckoned towards the menu above.

“Uhm… perhaps with picking the meal?”

The brunet raised a curious eyebrow at your question. “You want to eat here?”

Yes, you were definitely sticking out and you weren’t the only one to take notice.

“…yes.”

Nervous under his gaze, your eyes flickered to the blond, who seemed equally surprised, tilting his head aside.

“Well, what do you have in mind?” he asked simply.

You only shrugged in response and the brunet rolled his eyes and sighed, wiping his fingers to the napkin near his empty plate.

“Looks like I’m not needed here,” he grumbled and rose to his feet, patting his friend’s shoulder. “Just remember, Stevie, boss’ gonna kill ya’ if you’re more than half an hour late.”

What did that mean?

“Noted,” Stevie huffed a laugh and waved him off.

“Better get outta here sooner than later, can’t run as fast as Maximoff-“

“Yeah, yeah-“

“I better heard that name in a compliment!” a female voice from the door with ‘personnel only’ behind the counter suddenly called out, once again starling you.

“Sure thing, Mrs.M! See ya’!” Buck shouted right back at her as he jogged to the door and you noticed that the woman behind the counter and Stevie weren’t the only ones with their eyes on you, the realization making you shiver on the inside.

“You know what? Let’s sit somewhere else, everyone’s staring. You can check out the complete menu and the waitress will come to us,” the blond offered, already standing up and beckoning to one of the booths.

You felt yourself relax, the ever-present smile on his lips assuring you he had no malicious intent – or you hoped so.

“Sure. Thank you.”

You seated yourself opposite to him, hidden from the majority of the prying eyes as he pushed the menu your way.

“I honestly have no idea what most of this means,” you admitted before even opening the menu, watching the relaxed aura around Stevie instead as he all but melted into the cushions. It bugged you in a way, seeing as his friend had made a certain remark earlier. “…no one is going to try and kill you, right? I would hate to-”

He barked a laugh, small wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes and your heart skipped a beat, mesmerized when you simultaneously noticed that his nose was dusted with freckles. He was such a handsome man and he radiated pure amusement as he laughed, simply and carefree. Despite being ashamed at being the source of his amusement, you marvelled at the fact you were the cause of the happy sound.

“Ya’ think ‘dat-- that here downtown, people get iced for being late for work? Is ‘dat the bullshit they feed ya’?” You blinked at his words, unsure you understood his strange lingo. Stevie shook his head, the corner of his lips still twitching. “I meant killed. And nonsense, the nonsense they feed you.”

“They mostly don’t feed me anything about downtown and what life really is here…” you confessed with a sigh, spotting the woman from behind the counter making her way to you, red apron swinging a bit with her step.

“Good morning, almost afternoon! Oh, Steve, some dame you have here! Finally! Not sure we have enough fancy for her though,” she greeted you enthusiastically, her speech ending with a slight thoughtful pout.

You swallowed the indignation at her assumption and smiled at her. “I… um, I don’t need anything fancy, madam. At all, actually.”

“You heard that? Madam! You keep this one close, Steve!”

“Hey! I’m polite!” the blond protested, a twinkle of humour in his eye. “Can we have the least fancy thing for the lady, then? And a strawberry milkshake? Ya’ alright with strawberries? It’s the best one…”

The woman, Mrs.M as Buck had called her, wrote down the order in her little notepad when you only nodded, dumb-struck when Stevie – Steve? – ordered for you. “Coming right up! You want anything else, Stevie?

“Just a refill, please?” he looked up pleadingly and the woman sighed, patting his head.

“You’re addicted, hon, I feel sorry for your stomach. I’ll bring the pot.”

“You’re an angel, Anna.”

“Yeah, yeah…” she mumbled as she walked away.

Steve laid his very much muscular forearms on the table, leaning in, giving you his undivided attention.  “So… what’s your name, doll?”

Unlike with Bucky, Steve’s endearment somehow made your belly warm, your gaze lowering at his soft tone. You introduced yourself quietly and forced yourself to look up again – you were not raised by wolves, after all – and offered him a hand to shake, rising from your seat just a inch.

To your surprise, your companion gently took your fingers and turned your hand, kissing the back of it. As in, actually kissing it, his lips brushing your skin, his gaze locked with yours, stealing the breath from your lungs and making your rear fall back into your seat in surprise.

Who knew the downtown boys could be so charming?

“Pretty name for a pretty gal,” he commented. “So, what brings ya’ here?”

“…lunch? I told you?”

He clicked his tongue discontentedly at your poor excuse – it wasn’t exactly a lie, but… “Bad liar. Kinda like me.”

Was that right? Was he as innocent and honest as his eyes had been telling you ever since you noticed him behind Bucky? So far, he was nothing but nice to you. He could be your partner in crime – and you don’t lie to partners, especially when you’re a bad liar in the first place. You shifted in your seat, inhaled deeply and told him your dark secret.

“I just… I needed a change of scenery.”

His smile turned into a solid grin, mischief playing in his blue irises now, accenting the drop of green in them you hadn’t noticed before. “Well… looks like ya’ came to the right place.”

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One of the things Steve really liked about Maximoff’s was the domestic atmosphere. It was a family diner, one started by immigrants and yet not missing anything from the American way anyone could big mouth about. It was familial, relaxed yet with efficient staff and people practically knew each other by name – the regulars did at least.

Which meant that the stunning girl in sunflower dress who walked in wearing elegant high heels turned heads instantly, both in a good and bad way. Steve found the absurd figure both amusing and fascinating; she appeared utterly lost in her well-mannered way, her skirt brushed the tights just above her knees, catching an eye of me than one guy- and really, Steve had trouble not staring as well, but he at least attempted to.

Bucky, not so much.

Steve had to give it to her though – she was adorably startled when Buck opened his big mouth and tried to flirt with her… if that was what it was supposed to be, but she didn’t run out of the door just yet, even trying for a polite talk.

Cute. How could Steve go back to work knowing this remarkable creature was in his favourite diner? They would eat her alive, serve her like the next special!

Alright, that was a bit of an overstatement, but still.

And now, seeing her eyes widen as Wanda, the owner’s daughter and the twin sister to Steve’s colleague, placed a huge hamburger in front of the woman who simply couldn’t be from around here – uptown, if Steve guessed correctly – he knew he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Luckily for him, not missing it still meant keeping his job, because they didn’t wait long. It was another thing Steve loved around here – they were quick, ready for the onslaught of hungry customers around noon, so ready that the pair barely exchanged few words before they were served food and the sinful strawberry milkshake—and thank fuck- coffee.

He sipped at the hot bitter liquid, hiding his smile at the curious, desperate and utterly adorable expression on the girl’s face as she was trying to figure out how the hell she should eat that. But because he felt a bit sorry for her too – she never had a hamburger, had she, how was she even alive – he lowered the cup and took mercy upon her.

“Ya’ just need to take it to your hands, bite and hope for the best that your cute dress won’t get a new colour on it,” Steve remarked, not bothering to keep a straight face. “Just dig in, uptown.”

She huffed, clearly slightly irked at his jab, but obediently placed her fingers to the sides of the burger and brought it to her red-painted lips. Steve settled comfortably to his seat, a coffee and a free comedy show with the prettiest actress he had ever laid his eyes on playing right in front of him.

“So… why did ya’ need a change?” he brought up after few moments, watching her reaction to the taste, a pleasant surprise on her face, a drop of grease in the corner of her lips. His fingers twitched on the cup with the need to wipe it away from her otherwise perfectly cleaned up face.  

He liked her face – it wasn’t hidden under tones of shiny coloured shit girl used these days.

She swallowed first, shaking her head, but never letting her food from her hands as if someone could steal it before she finished. Steve felt that on spiritual fucking level.

“It is a complicated issue,” she said, dodging the question. Steve fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Try me.”

And with a sigh, she did, even when averting his gaze, lost in thought.

“You don’t know what’s like. All those… strained faces, smiling and nodding when asked to even if you don’t agree… not even being able to scratch your nose during dinner without people looking at you like you insulted them, their children and grandchildren that aren’t even born yet…“

Steve blinked at the waterfall of words, not expecting her to actually share that much. He only managed to stare at the embodiment of a good obedient uptown girl – minus the burger – while processing her words.

They sounded… not right. He never thought of it that way. His ma’ worked tooth and nail to keep them fed and he gave up going to art school for the very same reason. Hearing this girl, who was probably blessed with enough money to bath in it, complain about her life… was strange and frankly insulting, but when he thought of it, she did list some quite unpleasant downsides.

Gee. What people did to keep the picture perfect up. Can’t scratch her nose.

“Oh my, you must think I am a complete brat,” she exclaimed into the silence that fell on their table and Steve winced, both startled and pleasantly surprised. The self-awareness in her. “Spoiled privileged girl who doesn’t appreciate how lucky she is not having to work sixteen hours a day to feed herself and her family. Gosh, I am a terrible person, I’m sorry for rambling.”

Seeing her so self-depreciating caused a smile to spread on Steve’s face once more. Self-awareness indeed, realization in the purest form.

Where the hell did she come from?

She was… an odd egg, that was for sure. Steve certainly liked that and he hated seeing her with her lips turned downwards; so he spoke what was on his mind, as he always did.

“No… no. I think I understand… to a point.”

“Likely story,” she uttered, taking an angry bite of the hamburger.

So fucking adorable when angry – if that was what she called it. Steve could kiss that pouty lip of hers.

“I do!” he protested, raising his hands palms up and gesturing to her subtly to show he saw her point. “And for the record, I promise you – you can scratch your nose all you want with me.”

The smile she gave him could power a damn city, even if it wasn’t necessarily radiant – just very, very sweet and almost shy. “Thank you, Steve. I—never mind. Do you… have family?”

Steve, taken aback by her question, hesitated only for a moment. She had been honest, he should too. And to his genuine surprise, he enjoyed talking to her, so why ruin that with making shit up?

“Nope. Ma’ passed away few years ago. Dad’s been gone a while. Just Buck and guys from my shop.”

“I’m sorry. Really. I can’t imagine.”

He shrugged it off, ignoring the pang in his heart – the loss of his mother, only few years prior, still hurt. He missed her – she was an incredible woman and the kindest mother.

“That’s life. But thanks. You?”

“Both parents and—” she started off reluctantly, but then downright sighed. ”-a sister.”

“Don’t sound too excited about it,” Steve remarked sarcastically and she sighed again, putting her unfinished food away, frowning at it. “Full already?”

“It’s huge!”

“Gimme. No food comes to waste on my watch. Drink your milkshake,” he hummed, pulling the plate to his side of the table, much to her obvious astonishment – and was that a hint of amusement? – and took a bite. She shook her head, wiping her mouth with careful taps of a napkin, but was totally grinning at his actions, which left him unfairly giddy. “Ya’ were sayin’? About your family? More like your sister ya’ don’t exactly love?”

Steve almost choked when the smile slipped from her lips, mentally cursing himself.

“I know, I know! Once again – terrible person, I am aware. And I do like her, she’s family,” she said quickly as if to save the situation and prove she could treat her sister properly. Steve found the ‘she’s a family’ a bit of a learned phrase, utter shit, but he’d listen to more. “It’s just… Sharon… she’s the younger sister, but she is… perfect. Everyone thinks so. And she is! I swear I am not jealous, but… I wish I had more of a sister and less of an omnipresent perfect lady to tell me my hair doesn’t look good today at every occasion.”

Steve deliberately took a long nice look at her hairstyle. There was not one hair out of place on her head. She had some sort of an elaborate braid on her head Steve couldn’t hope to understand, making her look like a princess – well, kinda like a queen even, but her young face and playful and elegant dress wouldn’t make for a serious and grey sovereign. Princess it was.

“Was ‘dat today?” Steve asked, wiping his fingers to a napkin as he finished her meal and took a large gulp of coffee.

“Yes… again.”

His eyebrow slowly rose, sceptical and pitying. And kinda mad at people who ever told her she was anything but perfect. Beautiful. Stunning. Adorable.

“Well, no offence, doll, but your sis sounds like she should ease up on the bitch juice and have her eyes checked. Your hair’s fine, this whole…” he gestured vaguely to her head, “complicated thing ya’ did with it, is pretty like the rest of ya’.”

He should probably ease up on the compliments, but he couldn’t help himself. She seemed flustered at it and he loved it. She was cute. Her only flaw was that her hair wasn’t loose – Steve would like to see what she looked like, wild hair to run fingers through--

“…thank you. What is, eh, bitch juice?”

Steve chuckled when called out on his mistake. “Nothing really, means she shouldn’t be mean to ya’. Probably shouldn’t say ‘dat home, tho.”

Her smile made its return, sweet, shy and happy as she learned something new. “I will keep it in mind. Thank you for sweeping in, taking me under your wing here. You are a great company. I like you.”

Steve would deny it till the day he’d die, but that moment, his chest puffed with fucking pride. She liked him. Take that, Barnes! Take that, uptown snobs! She liked HIM.

“Well, if ya’ ever come to downtown ever again-“ he sort-of joked, the realization that this was very likely to be a one-time thing settling heavy in his stomach.

He wasn’t kidding anyone – he liked her too. A lot. Even when she was bitching; or maybe because of that, in addition to her 100% cutesy and pretty face… and figure.

“Would you meet me?” she asked excitedly, eyes lighting up with joy, which… Steve didn’t see coming.

“Uhm-- sure. If ya’ wanted.”

“Next Tuesday? What time?” she pried, sipping happily at the remnants of her milkshake. Nope, not the visual he needed—dammit.

Wait, what did she just say?

“You’re serious?” he asked incredulously, earning a shrug and a soft smile.

“You are funny and nice… and handsome.” Well, his ego just levitated through the ceiling, he wasn’t gonna lie- “I told you I liked you. Does that… mean something different here?”

He felt his lips curl up in a gentle smile at her slight confusion. She sounded so innocent. Steve’s heart could melt – and she already had him wrapped around her finger, which he surprisingly didn’t mind.

“No, doll, means the same thing. I like you too,” he assured her. “Gotta run, tho. Ya’ get home alright?”

“Yes. I only have to walk to the gallery nearby. I should go too…. Do I pay at the counter or somewhere-?”

“Nope. I do,” Steve interrupter her inspection of the diner and she swiftly rose to her feet.

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly-“

“Lemme treat a pretty girl, ‘k?”

The words were out of his mouth before he could think better of them – but if he had, his reaction would be exactly the same. This might have not been a proper date, but no matter how much more money she no doubt had, Steve’s ma’ would box his ear if he let the lady pay.

The fact she casted her gaze down, shy at his supposed chivalry, was only a pleasant bonus. He could kiss her at that moment, so friggin’ beautiful and shy, and possibly interested.

“You say that a lot,” she whispered, glancing up at him from under her long eyelashes, tiny smile playing on her lips.

Steve shrugged it off and headed for the counter before he could act on impulse and actually pull her in to smack his mouth to hers.

“Just sayin’ the truth. Six p.m. works for ya’?”

She hummed as he paid for her and his coffee. “I will make it work.”

That was good enough for him as he offered this very place to meet.

Once they left the diner, she managed to take him aback once more when she rose to her tiptoes – a heroic act in her pumps – and pressed a soft chaste kiss on his cheek before saying a simple goodbye and began to walk the opposite direction than him.

Steve was grinning like a fool for the rest of the day and not even Bucky’s wiggling eyebrows could ruin his mood.

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Sleepovers were for children, you had been told by your mother more than once; so you claimed that what you were going to do with Pepper would be a girls’ night (women’ night?) and she suddenly seemed ecstatic, because Pepper was a fashion goddess and you still had a lot to learn about being chic.

You didn’t even care for the insult, as you were not about to spend time with your friend. No, Pepper was only kind enough to help you out and plot against the evil forces of uptown, covering for you while you’d be having a—a date with Steve. The week couldn’t past fast enough.

But finally you were here, wearing a pink dress – if a bit too chaste, but practical for a summer evening – with decorative black buttons, short sleeves and a bow around your waist, hair styled by the ‘fashion goddess’ who lived up to her title and charmed two French braids on your head. You were nearly jumping on spot, looking around subtly from time to time – you still had two minutes to spare.

So you stood there, trying not to tap your foot – which was really tempting, the elegant flats with an inch-tall heel making tapping much more easier than your usual pumps – and politely smiled at each person passing you.

When you caught a glimpse of a tall blonde figure, your smile widened into an honest one. He was even more handsome than you remembered – and he reciprocated the smile upon seeing you, his eyes not-so-subtly travelling up and down your figure. He was wearing simple blue t-shirt, one that hugged his muscular figure tightly, causing your mind to wander into strange places, and a pair of jeans – a simple outfit that he clearly felt comfortable in, a backpack slung over one of his broad shoulders.

“Wow. I feel underdressed now. And we might have to change plans,” he said upon greeting you, deep timber that haunted you in your sweetest dreams.

You subconsciously crumbled your skirt between your fingers, your smile faltering as you suddenly felt self-conscious and disappointed that you didn’t dress to his liking – or to fittingly to his plans.

“Oh, no! Should I run and change?”

Steve instantly shook his head, taking a hold of your hand, bringing it to his lips. Your cheeks heated up, your heart speeding up at his affection.

“Absolutely not. You look beautiful,” he opposed, giving you a once-over again, his blue eyes twinkling.

“Thank you. You too--handsome, I mean.”

And he was. Gosh. And that ruffled hair of his-! How did you want to run your fingers through it—and not to give a damn about such action being inappropriate.

“Thanks. I—uh, I was plannin’ for a small trip with… a bit of climbin’, which was stupid, I know-“ he stumbled over his words, scratching the back of neck sheepishly, clearly having absolutely no clue how giddy you had been – and still were – for spending the time with him in any form.

You cleared your throat. “How much climbing?”

“Not too much…? It would be safe, I promise. But I’m worried about your dress-“

“I’m not!” you blurted out, covering your mouth in embarrassment at your hastiness.

Steve didn’t seem to mind; in fact, a slow mischievous grin spread on his lips, beckoning you to follow him.

“Then come with me if ya’ wanna know what it’s like to live.”

The sentence was rather ironic; before you knew it, you were sitting nearly on the edge of a damn roof, precisely 37 storeys above the ground, on a building that wasn’t even finished yet.

Apparently, Buck’s – Bucky’s – uncle worked as construction manager, which opened you the doors to one of the unfinished additions to New York’s skyline. Some storeys you had to indeed climb, but with Steve’s support, you had felt ridiculously safe, grateful for thinking to bring flats instead of usual attire – and the reward was absolutely worth it.

Seeing the sunset, sitting on a picnic blanket after finishing simple sandwiches and a lemonade, you felt like you had the world at your feet.

It was breath-taking, for the lack of better term, enough to bring tears to your eyes.

Never in your life you had felt so… light. So free. Despite the heights you found yourself in, you had never breathed more easily. And as sentimental it might sound… you were sure it didn’t only went down to not being under scrutiny from your family and those bigheads who thought that they had a claim on the world, hence claim on you too-- no, you could tell with absolute certainty that at least part of this liberating feeling went down to the person sitting next to you, staring with you at the sunset and the lights of the city coming to life, flashing neons shining in the streets.

Your hand blindly reached for his, covering the back of it, feeling the slight roughness of his knuckles and skin – a hand of a workman. He didn’t retreat, but you could feel his gaze shifting to you.

“Thank you for taking me here, Steve,” you whispered, a tender breath of wind carrying your voice to a faraway place, to a dreamland. You couldn’t tear your eyes from the marvellous scenery. “It’s… it’s so beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his hand shifting under yours, escaping your hold, fingers running up your arms to nestle on your jaw, gently cradling, causing your breathing to hitch, your heart speeding up to a at least a hundred per minute. “You are, doll.”

You turned to him, melting in his touch, and while you saw his face inching closer to yours, nerves working, regretting your inexperience, not for a split second you thought of retreating.

When Steve’s lips met yours, all rational thought left your mind, carried away by the sweet breeze of summer.

Girls’ night never felt so magical.

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Part 2

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Tags: @wxstedhexrt, @comicshoplife, @elysianecho, @scentedsongrebel, @orions-nebula, @pies-wands-and-more (I know you didn’t ask explicitly, but I can take a hint)

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I’m almost embarrassed to say that it turned out, once again, much much longer than I intended. But some might box my ears if I did, so... yay?

Credit for the fic title and chapter title goes to @queen-kass-the-writer​ - thank you!

And thank you for reading!

[kookieskiwi]

Badboy!au with the quote "Yeah, well i shut everyone out. Don't take it personally." with a bit of angst pwease 🥺🥺 but a lot of fluff hihi i'm sorry i asked for a lot 🥺🥺🥺 i wub u ✨

(I love it when people ask for a lot because it gives me more to go off of ❤️ and I wuv you too!!) (I changed the I to we since I write poly stuff and no member was specified )

-

You had one of the most amazing personalities anyone had ever seen. You were always caring, you put others before yourself and you gave second chances to everyone; even those that didn’t deserve it. That character trait of yours always got you into situations that had you blaming yourself for stupidity and too much kindness. Prehaps it wasn’t stupidity but it was the fact you saw the good in everyone rather than focusing on their personas and negative traits.

Some people called you näive, others called you gullible, you’d been called just about everything since you began high school. It was normal; there would be people who hated you, loved you and those that took advantage of you. You were accepting to everyone, you helped tutor those who needed it and you gave up your free time and time to do your own work in order to guide those who asked for help through the phone in order to be discreet.

It wasn’t until you met the Bangtan boys that you realized just how much people relied on you for help. They first came to you a year ago when finals begun to ask for help which basically involved you suming up an entire years worth of material in a week. It wasn’t easy since you had your own to study for at the same time but it also counted as a review guide for yourself. Since then they’ve come to you in secret or you’d go over to their shared house to help one or all of them review a topic.

Over the past few months you and the infamous bad boys had grown close meaning what had previously been school related meetings became a friendship with meet-ups that didn’t involve school at all. They became some of the closest friends you had in a long time giving you a sense of connection you didn’t know you needed.

That was however until you overheard one of their conversations as you were on your way to your vehicle. “She’s too close, we let her in and allowed this to go on for too long.” It was Namjoon speaking as he informed the others of their mistake. “But hyung, she hasn’t done anything to make us question her intentions,” Jungkook defended you in your absence which you were grateful for. It physically pained you to hear what they were thinking of you. It was one of those moments where you could actually feel your heart tearing apart as tears welled in your eyes. “Exactly and we aren’t sticking around to find out what they are.” Yoongi chimed in with Namjoon, defending the man who wanted you out of the picture.

You stood there leaning lifelessly against the wall contemplating whether or not to make a run for your vehicle. That option seemed like the best one to choose until you were too late. Apparently they had finished up their conversation and were exiting the classroom only to be met with you; the person who had shown them nothing but compassion and helped them. The soul who was once positive now felt that fullest depth of betrayal you had ever felt before.

“Y/n-“

“No.” You snapped as you returned from your lifeless state to look through blurry eyes at the men who stood before you. “I will not let myself be spoken about behind my back by people who I’ve shown nothing but kindness towards. I have no ill intentions with anyone of you unless wanting to be friends is such a terrible thing. I’ve done NOTHING but be help you when you needed it, not to mention I was the only one who took you all seriously because of the face you put up. So no. Don’t explain because I heard everything you had to say.” You told them trying to hold your composure together until you got home. You would not show weakness now more than ever, sure the tears showed it pretty well but you wanted to scream and yell at their ignorance.

Without another word you walked out of the hallway and entered your car followed by a slam of the door shut before you exited the campus. On the way to the condo which your guardians bought so you had a safe place to stay while getting an education, you broke down completely. It hurt more than you thought it would, of course you were stupid to catch a slight case of feelings for seven different guys who happened to be dating each other (a secret you came you find out when you got closer to them, they made sure no one on the outside knew) but that didn’t stop your battered heart from skipping a beat every time they smiled or laughed.

When you did arrive home you went to unlock the door with shaky hands and after multiple times of missing the keyhole you finally unlocked it. Dropping your bags you shut and locked the door behind you, taking a second before sliding down it in utter distress.

-

The next day you skipped classes all together; something you rarely did unless you were ill even then, that was only because you didn’t want to get anyone else sick. You had a headache from crying all night, your nose was stuffy, eyes puffy and red and to sum it all up: you felt like shit.

You spent the day moping around at the loss of a friendship. When classes let out you weren’t expecting anything from the boys however you received a text message stating one simple thing.

Taehyungie: Come over please.

There were no emojis, no use of a nickname....nothing, which must’ve meant this was important. So, against your minds wishes your heart dragged you to their home with heavy feet. You looked horrible and felt it too, but here you were yet again, putting others before yourself.

You didn’t even have to knock before the door was flying open followed by both Jimin and Jungkook hugging you tightly as you just stood there too tired mentally to do anything back. You were confused and they could tell so they backed off allowing you inside. You were guided to the couch where you sat hugging the arm trying to be as far away from any of them.

“Y/n, please let us explain.” Jin began hoping for you to look up at any of them but you kept your tired eyes locked on the empty space in front of you. “We have a reputation we must keep up, we can’t seem weak or things will be different for all of us.” Hoseok stated in an easy tone trying to stay calm even though he had the urge to run up to you and hug you. “Letting people in isn’t weak, it’s called being human.” You argued in a monotone still not looking anyone in the eyes.

“Yeah, well we shut everyone out. Don’t take it personally.” Yoongi spoke defensively making you absentmindedly flinch at the harsh tone in his voice. “How am I not supposed to take it personally!? You have no reason to shut me out and I’ve given you every reason to let me in!” You begun standing up and finally looking at the men who wore shocked expressions at your tone. “I don’t know what any of you have been through but I promise you this isn’t the way to live your lives. Let me in, let me show you not everyone has bad intentions with you. Let ME be the one to change your mindset. Because damnit I’m tired of being thrown out when I do nothing but help.” Your voice wavered at the end of your sentence making you curse yourself.

“Let me in because I’ve shown everything I am to you.” You whispered as a single tear rolled down your cheek but you were quick to swipe it away. “Let me in because I love you all.”

“You what-“ Jimin gasped standing up in surprise as did the others. “I know- I know it’s stupid and you’ll probably think it’s a schoolgirl crush, b-but over the past few months when I’ve gotten to know you for you and not the bad boys everyone else knows you as...I fell. Fast and hard. Which is why I’ve been so upset over what you said because I KNOW you will be fine without me, I KNOW you can move on and shut people out like you do but I don’t want to be shut out like everyone else.” You explained giving up at wiping the tears which just kept falling at this point. It was hard admitting your feelings especially at this time but this was either the making or breaking point if everything so why not?

“If it wasn’t for you, we’d be so lost right now y/n.” Namjoon begun taking one step towards you as you remained still. “We’ve all been thinking about you a lot lately.” Yoongi stated from beside you where you didn’t know he was until then. “You are a wonderful person, never forget that.” Taehyung said making you think this was goodbye. “You deserve someone who values you.” Jin whispered softly behind you as more tears filled your eyes. This couldn’t be it, not goodbye. “Someone who will kiss away all of your pain and scars.” Jungkook said stepping forward as well. “You know the hardest part about finding someone you love but being apart even though you have six others? It’s the endless nights awake knowing that the missing piece that completes us is right in front of us but we are too afraid to take that leap of faith fearing that we’ll be rejected.” Jimin stated grasping onto Yoongi’s hand to squeeze it. “Y/n, we’ve made a complete fool of ourselves that past day because we aren’t the people who we want to be. We are so sorry little one, so sorry and no amount of verbal apologies will show it until our actions change.” Hoseok said motioning to the other men who were gazing at you with something you couldn’t identify.

Your mind was going a million miles an hour at this point. Why where they saying this? Surely they couldn’t mean you...could they?

“You deserve someone who will treat you with the most respect, give you all the love and happiness you deserve and protect your kind heart. If you’ll let us, we’d like to be those men.” Taehyung said grabbing your hands which had been fiddling with the hem of your sweater. You looked at them with the most innocent, pure eyes they had ever seen, you were in total shock at what they had asked. When it sunk it you chocked on a sob. This wasn’t goodbye, it wouldn’t be the end.

“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.” You said in a mix of laughter and sobs before running into Taehyung’s chest to wrap your arms around him tightly. The others followed your suit as you all began to express the feelings you had kept up for so long.

-

“‘Us’ I like the sound of that, don’t you?” You said as you laid cuddled into Yoongi’s chest while everyone was spread amongst the couches. You weren’t aware of what had slipped off your tongue until Yoongi was putting his hand over his heart saying ‘Ahh too cute’ while squeezing his eyes closed.

“I love the sound of us.”

-

As always..any further ideas or chapters you want from a Drabble can be requested and I’ll more than happily do them! Part 2 or another Drabble with a quote relating to this one if requested!! With bunches of love -Kiwi (KookiesKiwi)

[love-minor-poltergeist]

Hi I really enjoyed your Cuphead scenarios :) If you're still taking asks, could I ask for romantic scenario with Grimm Matchstick?

A/N: Grimm seems like a big ol’ scaly sweetheart and he deserves all the love in the world tbh…This is also my first time writing for this sweet boy, so lemme know if you want me to redo this anytime!

(Also, I’m super sorry for the long wait. I had an idea that ended up growing out of hand, and here we are :’D)

Word Count: 5974

Warnings: None

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The sweet aroma of French vanilla and cocoa scented the air like a heavy perfume. Most would describe the smell as overwhelming, even too sugary, but it was simply the norm for anyone who worked for Baroness von Bon Bon. In the case of one Grimm Matchstick, his nose had grown mostly numb from years of handling fires and smoke.

However, today seemed to prove the opposite for the dragon, as he can already feel the faint traces of a headache slowly start to creep in. He can feel the weight in his stomach worsen the longer he dwelled in the Baroness' private guest room, the soft embroidered silk cushions of the couch he sat on doing nothing to ease his tense muscles. 

Across from him sat Bon Bon herself, quietly puffing away at the slender cigarette holder wedged between two thin fingers. She calmly leaned against the back of her armchair, amber eyes lidded as she stared at the small, thin book that laid on top of the ornate coffee table between them. 

Grimm could feel his throat grow warmer the longer he sat there, the familiar ashy taste of smoke hitting his tongue as he fiddled with a loose scale on his hand. He lost track of how long he and Bon Bon had been sitting in silence, and the dragon wasn't too sure if he wanted to interrupt the smaller woman before him. 

Before the dragon could ponder further, his friend's smooth, calm voice interrupted his train of thought. 

"I take it that the book I lent you wasn't much help?" Bon Bon leaned forward, chin propped up on a gloved hand. 

Grimm felt a blush warm his cheeks as he silently nodded. Dark eyes flitted over to his lap, only occasionally straying away to stare at the unhelpful manual between them.

Courteous Courtship for the Romantically Clumsy had proven to be a humiliating bust, to put it lightly. Grimm had tried his absolute best to follow what the manual had told him, he truly did. However, each time he had tried to approach and woo you, it always ended in one of two ways: 

He had either ended up growing tongue-tied at the last minute, which led to him fumbling until he was a red mess and you offered to get the nurse from the medical tent, or you had given him that small, sweet smile you saved for him and thanked him for being so nice.

Not smooth, handsome or dashing as a knight like the book insisted he’d be after reading the entire thing back to front, just a nice friend who was just shy and viewed you in a perfectly platonic light.

Grimm let out a low, anguished whine before he shoved his face into his hands, distressed. Across from him, Bon Bon let out a small sigh. The calm and collected mask she wore was fading as a worried frown pulled on her lips, hard amber eyes softening at the sight before her. 

She had been the first one Grimm had come to about his little crush on you, and a part of her couldn’t but feel a tad responsible for this predicament. 

You had happened to be the newest addition to her work staff, which meant that she held the most contact out of both of them. Despite the sometimes grueling workdays and the days where her temperament was far from friendly, you had always been a sweet-tempered little thing. 

You were a wee-bit oblivious (well, maybe more so very oblivious), but kindness and dedication were your strong suits. 

Thinking further about it now, it wasn’t surprising to Bon Bon at all that Grimm ended up developing a crush on you. 

He was rather shy and soft-spoken, and despite his towering stature, it was easy to forget Grimm was there. 

Most people usually brushed him off as rather dull once they had spoken to him after his fire-handling performances, which didn’t do much for the dragon’s already fragile self-confidence. He ended up growing rather lonely because of it.

But then you came along. 

You had happened to be a frequent attendee of his performances, so frequent that Grimm had almost always expected to see you in the crowd when it was his turn to perform. 

‘They m-m-made me a little nervous at first. But then we started talking, and well, I got even more jittery. I m-m-mean, they’re adorable, Bonnie! I can’t help but be a little bit happy that they like watching me!’ Grimm had told her once. 

Even before Bon Bon began to help out her timid friend, Grimm had already been a tiny bit infatuated with you. 

When the two of you finally started talking to each other during your breaks, it was enough to make him fall head over heels. You were always eager to greet him, always eager to hear about how he was doing and what he was planning later.

Hell, you had ended up earning such a high place in his heart that Grimm even decided to share the few musical pieces he’s worked on with you. Bon Bon herself had been the only other person to know about Grimm’s hobby. 

In other words, the dragon had it bad for you. To see the sweet dragon so torn up about this was enough to make Bon Bon’s chest ache. 

With another light puff of her thin cigarette, Bon Bon stared down at the dating manual in between the two of them. 

What to do, what to do… 

It was already evident that it had been no help whatsoever, and the only reason she kept that outdated, poorly-written excuse for a book around was that Grimm had insisted on borrowing it. 

She quietly let out a scoff at the thought and idly flicked her cigarette over a nearby ashtray. 

She had highly doubted it would have helped him win you over anyway. You seemed far too fond of Grimm’s actual personality than some ridiculous forced persona he had tried to put on. After all, why else would you keep visiting him on your breaks? Why else would your gaze soften the moment Grimm’s back turned away from you? For someone as attentive as the dragon in mention, he sure was (almost annoyingly so) oblivious to the idea that his little crush may not be as one-sided as he feared.

The candied noble lets out another sigh, her brow furrowing in frustration. 

She loved Grimm. She truly did. He was always a delight to be around, and he was a sweet reprieve from dealing with infuriating business partners or Beppi for an entire day. However, after all of these failed attempts (the dating manual was far from the first botched plan), two of the most oblivious fools together was beginning to wear her patience thin. 

“ ‘m s-s-sorry, Bonnie. I know you probably have better things to do…” Grimm trailed off, and it’s enough to snap the baroness back into attention.

“What? No, no, Grimm, it’s fine. I’m,” She paused for a moment. “I’m just thinking, is all.” 

“O-oh, okay.” 

His dark eyes lowered back to his lap as the pair fell silent again. 

With the thin cigarette holder still burning away in her hand, Bon Bon quietly stared at the man across from her. 

He was doing that thing again, that thing where he tried not to look as miserable as he felt on the inside but failed majorly. The way his floppy ears drooped sadly was more than enough to form a crack in her stoic mask.

The last thing Bon Bon wanted to do was force him into an uncomfortable situation, but she didn’t think she'd be able to take another failed attempt. With the sight of a crestfallen, soft-hearted fool like him laid out before her, it was the fuel she needed to take matters into her own hands finally.

She takes in a small breath before lifting the thin holder to her lips. The soft, subtle burn of cigarette smoke fills her lungs as she takes in one last puff before clapping her hands.

Within seconds, a small peppermint dressed in a pink maid’s uniform hesitantly peaked her head through the double doors. Bon Bon quickly waved her in. 

Bon Bon spared another glance towards the dragon not too far away, and she made a mental hum as he hadn’t moved from his slump. Good, she needed him to remain oblivious for the time being just so that she could reach the midpoint of her impromptu plan. 

Just as the round little maid held out a pink ceramic ashtray, the baroness silently leaned over to the side of her head. Watching Grimm from the corner of her eyes, Bon Bon quietly whispers.

“Could you send up our little recruit? The one with the penchant for a certain green gentleman?”

Red and white brows knitted together for a moment, but they soon raised as the maid’s eyes lit up when she quickly caught on. She gave her boss an eager nod, silently mouthing a small “thank you, my baroness.” With another nod, Bon Bon handed off her cigarette, holder included, before calmly leaning back onto her chair. 

Cheeks mottled with an eager flush, the maid gave her boss one last giddy nod before hurrying off to the door, the ashes from the tiny tray in her hands nearly spilling from her eager pace.

The door opened and closed with a hurried slam that resonated throughout the room, causing Bon Bon to flinch lightly. Grimm, however, merely spared a small glance behind him before sighing. 

Just as he was moving to stare at his lap again dejectedly, Bon Bon cleared her throat. A wave of sheepish embarrassment washed over him, as he had completely forgotten that his friend was right in front of him amid his moping!

“Oh, sorry, Bonnie. Did you need something?”

A hint of annoyance flashed across the baroness’ face for a brief moment, and she nearly clicked her tongue. She gently shook her head, though, and took in a deep breath, her eyes slipping closed briefly before continuing. 

“Well, Grimm, maybe it’s time you had a reminder about our little goal here. Don’t you agree?” She said, chin perched on a gloved hand. 

“Uhh, okay?” Grimm’s brow furrowed in confusion, apprehension filling his stomach. 

And that apprehension spiked into a nervous sweat when your name slipped past her heart-shaped lips.

"You like them a lot, don't you?"

The dragon nodded. 

"And you wish to court them, correct?" She continued. 

He nodded again, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. 

"Well, why don't you first think of what sort of date you would take them on? Not what some trashy dating book told you.." 

Grimm's shoulders immediately tensed up, biting down on his lip to hold back the sheepish squeak steadily bubbling up in his throat. While Bon Bon had been there for him for all his ups and downs, not to mention that she probably knew him better than anyone on Inkwell, sharing what kind of dates he's daydreamed about was a little…embarrassing.

"Bonnie, are you sure? It's kind of-"

"Grimm, I've known you for years now. I assure you, whatever fantasies you may have are probably nowhere near as humiliating as you think they are," She interrupted in a flat voice, waving her dainty hand. 

She had a good point. Then again, Grimm supposed as someone of her social status, she probably has seen worse. 

The dragon nervously fidgeted in place for another few seconds, taking his tail into scaly hands as he sucked in a deep breath. He could feel the smaller woman's stare focused on him, and he couldn't help but feel like an ant under a magnifying glass. Grimm quietly counted to ten to ease his nerves. 

With one last nervous breath, Grimm started. 

"Ah, well, I know it's probably not the best idea for a first date, but I thought it'd be nice to take them to the clip joint. N-n-not to drink or anything like that! But to hear the band performing there! M-m-my friends in the band over there would like them, too!" 

Bon Bon felt the beginning of a smile tug on her lips. Of course. Leave it to Grimm to find a way to make a hole-in-the-wall place like the clip-joint sound charming. She quietly waved for him to continue. 

"And if it hasn't gotten too late, I'd think it'd be awfully swell to see if some of the bakeries are still open. It's usually nice and quiet in the later hours. M-m-makes me feel a lot less antsy…" Grimm raised a hand to his cheek, turning his head off to the side.

"...It'd be nice to talk, you know? I mean, we kind of already do that a lot when they're on their break, but I just like spending time with them." 

A toothy smile broke out on his face, a soft red dusting his scaly cheeks. 

Bon Bon, on the other hand, felt her chest growing tighter by the minute. Dear heavens, she hoped that her impromptu plan would work. 

Then, as if some divine force had finally willed them into existence, Bon Bon had heard the familiar click of tiny heels against tiled floors. 

She quietly made a mental note to give the maid a raise after this. For someone with legs as tiny as hers, the woman worked fast.

Bon Bon ignored the growing sweat in her palms as she quietly cleared her throat. The dreamy, faraway look in Grimm's eyes quickly faded away as he jumped. He whipped his head back towards her.

"O-oh, sorry. Too much?" He asked, too focused on his friend to register the two sets of footsteps growing closer. 

"Not at all, Grimm," Bon Bon cleared her throat again. "I was just wondering something...How would you ask them out on a date?" 

Grimm made a choked sound, his eyes wide and nervous. 

"It's just…We've been trying to follow the advice written by some old fart who died years ago and you..." Bon Bon trails off for a moment, her lips pulling into a small frown, her brows creasing in worry, "Well, it just feels like you've been doing everything you can to follow someone else's idea of the ‘right’ way to like someone.." 

Her voice grew quiet, eyes lidded as her gaze trailed over to the book between them. The pages have long since taken a yellowish hue from age, the cover nearly-pristine from sitting untouched in her family’s library for untold amounts of years. 

“Bonnie, I,” Grimm trails off for a moment. “I know it’s dumb. But it’s just… what if they don’t like me?” 

A sharp pang filled the smaller woman’s chest. She could feel the threads of guilt begin to weave themselves into the back of her head, chastising her for growing tired and impatient with her friend. The voices increased louder in volume with each passing minute as heeled feet drew closer. 

There wasn’t time to turn back, though. 

“Grimm, I know you’re afraid that they don’t feel the same, but I think it’d be better for you in the long run if you just came to them like you normally talk to them. If they say no, then they say no, and you’ll be fine. They’re not going to outright shun you. They like you for you.”

The dragon sat quietly for a few moments, eyes glued down to his hands as the stone weight grew heavier in the baroness’ stomach. 

She wasn’t typically one to panic when it came to situations like these, but the thought of everything going up in flames had already taken root. It wouldn’t be long until the footsteps reached the door, and she needed to act fast. 

While her hands grew clammier under velvetine gloves, Bon Bon took in a sharp breath before forcing herself to stand up. She walked towards him tentatively, the same way you’d go about approaching a fragile, injured bird, and gently reached towards him. Grimm didn’t move away as gloved hands cup his face. 

Painted lips offered up a weak smile. 

“Besides, I think they’d much prefer something real from you than whatever that was you tried to give them last week. It was a little painful to watch you try to act like one of those old-timey knights. ” 

Grimm groaned, eyes sliding closed as he made a weak whine.

“You promised that we’d never speak of that again…” He mumbled, desperately fighting back a smile as Bon Bon quietly snorted. 

“I know, I know… These lips will stay sealed, but you have to promise me that you’ll try to ask them out as yourself,” She chastised, almost tutting at the towering dragon before her. 

“I-I... I will. It’s just nerve-wracking,” he mumbles. 

“I know it is, Grimm, but you-” 

Bon Bon was suddenly cut off by the sound of a tiny fist rapping at the door, causing the dragon in her hands to jump and pry himself away. She fought back the urge to let out a frustrated growl, and instead pinched the space between her brows. 

Dammit, it looks like she has to move now. 

Sparing the door one last glance, she turned her head back towards Grimm. 

Think fast, Bon Bon. 

“I think that’s for me. One of my business partners had wanted to call me about a shipment arriving later in the month,” She said curtly, desperately hoping that Grimm wasn’t able to hear how her heart was beating a mile a minute. 

“Oh! That’s fine, Bonnie. I think it’s about time I head out anyways-”

“NO!” 

Grimm immediately shrunk back into his seat, eyes wide. 

“I mean, it will only take a few minutes or so to finish up. Wait here, please? I’ll have one of the maids bring over some tea.”

Before the man could even begin to protest, the baroness was already out the door, leaving him glued to his seat, absolutely dumbfounded at what just transpired. 

--------------------------------------

Once she had closed the door behind her, Baroness von Bon Bon immediately whipped her head towards you. Her bright amber eyes practically stared into your soul as she moved to grab your shoulders with an iron-tight grip. 

A startled noise barely even escaped your lips before she spoke.

"You. I need you to return the book on the guest room coffee table back to the library," She pauses for a second. "Be sure to take your time, though." 

Just as you were about to ask if she was alright (you were certain those were beads of sweat you spy running down on her face, after all), she had already turned to face your coworker.

"And you, please bring some tea for our guest. He must be parched right about now."  

You could only see the side of her face right now, but you swear that you saw something flash in her eyes, that particular 'something' proving enough to make the far more paranoid part of your brain act up.

It didn't help that the maid who brought you here seemed to be in on whatever was happening right now, the small peppermint beside you giving the taller woman an eager "yes, my baroness!" before all but bolting off. 

Baroness von Bon Bon quickly fell silent as the maid turned the corner, yellow eyes staring off into the empty air as her heart-shaped lips pulled into a tight frown, brows furrowed. Neither of you made a move, the air stagnant and heavy. It was rather awkward, to put it lightly. 

"My baroness?" 

You narrowly managed to hold back the urge to flinch as she whipped her head towards you, her eyes wide. 

"Is...is everything alright? You look a little bit nervous-" 

"Nothing is amiss if that's what you're asking," She sharply cuts you off. "I'm just a bit tied up at the moment with a business partner."

You had an inkling suspicion that wasn't the case. The baroness didn't normally look this flustered when it came to business matters. If anything, she had always looked like she was preparing for a battle of all things, and that was just to sit down and talk about something as mundane as candy shipments. But then again, you could just be overthinking things again. 

Right?

The baroness’ sharp sniff tugged you away from your confused musings, and you nearly jumped when you met her intense amber eyes. 

She moved to place a slender hand on your shoulder, her touch ghosting over the tense muscles as she cleared her throat. 

“Again, take your time. I’m not quite sure how long I’ll be gone.” 

Before you could open your mouth to object or further question her, the baroness had already turned, the downy feathers of her hat whipping across your nose, and made her way down the hall. 

Tongue heavy and useless, you silently watched her turn the corner, leaving you entirely alone save for her quieting footsteps and your jumbled thoughts. 

Well, that certainly wasn’t weird at all. 

You let out a small sigh, hands reaching up to rub at your temples. This assignment wasn’t, by any means, the worst thing you had to do all day, yet you had this strange feeling in your gut that something was up. 

Still, a job was still a job, and unless you could think of a better excuse other than “it just felt off”, it was probably better that you just dipped in and dip out as quickly as you could. The last thing you wanted was to potentially face Bon Bon’s sugar-dusted ire. 

How someone managed to be extremely scary while covered head-to-toe in pink and frills, you’ll never know. Nor do you think you want to.

You turned towards the pink door, apprehension flowing through your veins as you raised a shaky fist and knocked on the door. Almost immediately afterwards, you heard the muffled protest of a couch creaking.

A loud ‘bang’ followed shortly after, and you faintly caught the tail-end of someone letting out a grunt of pain. The couch creaked some more and you could faintly make out nervous muttering. You furrowed your brow for a moment, light frustration clawing at your thoughts, and knocked again, this time with more force.

“Oh! Please come in! Uh, I-I’m decent?” The voice cracked at their attempted joke, tapering off into an awkward, near frantic chuckle. 

Hold on a moment…Was that Grimm on the other side?

Before you knew it, an eager smile had begun to tug on your lips, and you found yourself reaching towards the doorknob. You paused, hand merely inches away from the cool glass handle. 

Things had been a bit weird between the two of you for the past few weeks. Since you had first met him, Grimm had always been the type to keep to himself, never venturing too far into the spotlight (unless it was for his job, of course). He hardly ever raised his voice, even if it meant that others would accidentally end up overlooking him. 

None of which you truly minded. If anything, it made it easier for you to feel at ease around him. Sure, you may or may not have developed the teeny tiniest (and not all obvious) little crush on him, but you digress. Grimm was a bit of a socially awkward dork.

So imagine your surprise when he started forcing himself to be louder; quoting lines from classical literature around you (always romantic ones, too). Hell, he even started to compliment you more, whether it was on how lovely you looked, even when you knew you looked awful.

It was rather sweet of him, but it was enough to pull at your heartstrings. You kept finding yourself stuck in a constant back and forth. Did he possibly feel the same soft-hearted fascination you held for him? Or was Grimm just being nice? Whatever it may be, you desperately didn’t want to get your hopes up.

You gently slapped at your face, desperately trying to ignore the nervous beating of your heart. 

‘Just go in and get out,’ You chided to yourself. ‘If you’re quick, then things won’t get so weird between Grimm.’

You grasped onto the doorknob tightly. The glass was cool against your sweat-slicked palms, each ridge pressing a swirled imprint into your skin from how tightly you were holding on. With one last nervous breath, you pushed open the door.

You were immediately met with the sight of Grimm, sprawled out onto the table on his stomach. 

The two of you froze. You could feel your eyes go as wide as saucers and mouth fall slack. In a matter of seconds, you watched all color drain from Grimm’s face in stunned silence. The dragon’s mouth flapped open and closed, like a fish gasping for water on land, as high-pitched, dying animal squeaks fell from his lips. 

After what felt like centuries, you were the first one to break the silence. 

“Sooo,” You drawled, voice high and teetering on songful as you fought back a nervous laugh. “Did I walk in at a bad time? Cause, ah…you ain’t looking so decent there, Grimm.” 

The dragon, to his credit, recovered fairly quickly from his catatonic state after that. In nearly the blink of an eye, he shot up from the table quickly, avoiding your gaze. Shaky hands brushed away non-existent dust from his body, the motion stiff and bordering on robotic. 

It was almost enough to distract you from how red his face had gotten. Almost.

You could feel a blush of your own threatening to creep along your cheeks, and you silently cursed your body for reminding you of your crush on the man before you. 

“Sorry about that. I, uh, kinda sorta tripped a little bit when you knocked,” Grimm weakly laughed and rubbed a clawed finger against his cheek. 

“Oh, you’re fine, Grimm! I’m just more surprised you’re here of all places...Aren’t you usually out on your shift?” 

The dragon let out a small hum and nodded, a small, tentative smile on his lips. Your breath hitched, face flooding with warmth. 

“Haha, yeah...Usually I am, but I decided to take the day off. The perks of being your own boss for the most part, you know?” He laughed again, tail wagging against the table behind him.

His tail caused marble table legs to suddenly groan as they pushed across the tiled floor. The two of you jumped, and you nearly missed something small hitting against the floor with a dull thump in your surprise. A few seconds passed before you broke from your startled stupor, and your mind switched back into work mode.

“Oh, hold on Grimm. Bon Bon sent me in here to get something real quick. Let me just go do that and we can chat when I’m done!” 

You were about to brush past him to retrieve the book off the floor, but instead were met with a face full of scaled stomach. Your startled squeak was muffled against warm flesh, causing Grimm’s entire body to stiffen. 

You could feel his breath hitch as you gently pried your face away, and you looked up with him furrowed brows. At this point, Grimm was nearly purple from how much he was blushing. Not that you were any better. You don’t think the room was this warm before. 

Grimm cleared his throat and took a few baby-sized steps away from you. His slitted-pupils wildly darted around the room as a toothy, shaky smile formed on his face.

“Y-you don’t have to do that. I...I mean. You kind of have to, since Bon Bon’s your boss, but I...”

He let out a huff, shaking his head before forcing himself to continue. 

“I was the one to take it out from the library in the first place! Why not let m-me?” 

He was doing it again, desperately trying to take any work you may have by doing it himself. And once again, you could feel your foolish little heart pick up its pace in hope. You mentally huffed, barely resisting the urge to shake your head. Not this time.

“Grimm.” 

The dragon immediately went pale, his smile melting into a sheepish expression.

“That’s nice of you and all, but that’s kind of my job,” You hesitated for a moment. “And…you’re kinda being weird again.” 

“Not that it’s a bad thing!” You quickly threw your hands up. “I thought some of the stuff you did for me earlier was real nice, but...”

“Wait, was I making you uncomfortable this entire time?” A mortified expression overtook him, and a fresh wave of panic washed over you.

“No, no! It’s just that...” You could feel your cheeks growing warm under his gaze, and you quickly turned away. 

“It’s just confusing...” You mumbled out.

You quickly ducked your head down, blood pooling into your cheeks like magma within a volcano. It was pointless. Grimm could definitely still see how red you had become. He was absolutely silently judging you, you thought.

Sneaking a glance up, Grimm was stunned into absolute silence, lips pulled into a taut line. You hugged your shoulders, nails pressing sharp crescent-shaped marks through the thin sleeves of your uniform. 

“C-confusing how?” Grimm asked quietly.

You abruptly lifted your head back to meet his gaze, a shaky frown on your lips. He flinched, ears folding back and shoulders tensing. His eyes watched you with a fixed skittish anticipation, no doubt taking in the ever-growing fire alarm shade of red in your cheeks. 

“It’s just…you’re normally not that forward! Do you know how hard it is to focus when I’m too busy fixating on all the times you called me cute?! Especially when I’m trying to get over my own dumb crush on you so things won’t be awkward between us!”

Your heart was frantically beating against the bars of your rib cage now. Every breath you took felt like a razor against the burning, raw flesh of your throat, and it quickly dawned on you that you had screamed at him.

You had practically announced to the whole world that you had a crush on Grimm. Directly to his face. 

In a matter of seconds, your stomach dropped as your heart leapt into your throat. All the breath in your lungs was stolen away. With pale cheeks and dread creeping up your spine, you forced yourself to look back up at the man standing before you, both of you still as statues.

Green scales were flushed into a brilliant shade of red and cheeks hot to the touch, the embers of a lively, crackling fire safely tucked beneath Grimm’s skin. His mouth trembled for a moment, but the dragon cleared his throat. 

“I,” he started, an unsure smile now forming, “W-what?” 

Raising a close hand to your mouth, you awkwardly coughed into your fist. 

“Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag now,” You admitted with an uneasy laugh, your legs beginning to tremble. 

“I’ve...kind of liked you for a while now, Grimm, but I just…kinda-sorta figured you didn’t feel the same.”

“Wait,” Grimm interrupted, the smile on his face growing,“You like me? As in...You have an actual crush on me?” 

His voice cracked slightly, but it wasn’t hard to recognize the more upbeat tone his voice had taken. You could hear the gentle rhythmic thumps of his tail against the tiled floors, and a small glance upwards revealed a wobbly grin stretched across his face. 

Dread melted into uncertainty. You felt your brows furrow, throat locked into dumb silence. It took a few seconds for you to take in everything, Grimm’s excited expression never wavering. 

“Y-yeah? I do-” “That’s great!” 

Wait, what? 

Scaly hands reached forward and pulled you into a tight bear hug, causing you to let out a tiny wheeze from how tightly he held onto you. You could faintly hear the steady, giddy pace of his heart beating away within his chest, the wagging of his tail following along in it’s metronomic rhythm. 

“I’ve had a crush on you for a while now, too! I just...I never thought you’d actually feel the same!” 

You peaked up to see his grin turn sheepish, his eyes growing bashful as he met your gaze. He fidgeted in place for a moment, arms still wrapped around you in a tight embrace. 

“Did you know that I had to ask Bon Bon to help me? I figured she would’ve known more about it than I would. I mean, I even asked to borrow this book from her-” “Grimm-”

“At the time I thought “why not?” It said that it would help me become, ah, irresistible-”

“Grimm-” 

“All it did was make me feel like an idiot, though-“ 

“GRIMM!”

The dragon flinched and released you, eyes wide and mouth now clamped shut. 

Free from the overbearingly warm embrace, you took in a deep, shaky breath to get your bearings. Your head was spinning, your heart struggling to stay in your chest from how hard it beated. 

Everything hit you at once. Only seconds after your accidental confession, not only did Grimm actually return your feelings, but it turns out that the big nerd had indeed been flirting (or trying, rather) with you. 

Bright pink soon dusted across your cheeks, spreading across your entire face like a flustered wildfire. An awkward laugh tumbled out of your lips, and you found yourself covering your lips, a flustered grin eagerly stretching itself across your face. Grimm shot you a concerned look for a moment, but it seemed the weight of the situation dawned upon him not long after as a shy grin formed.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to melt into pink, warm-cheeked messes, the two of you shyly trading glances before breaking out into a mess of laughter. 

Once the two of you finally calmed down, Grimm was the first one to speak. 

“Golly, don’t I feel dumb for overthinking this now, huh?” He mumbled to himself, grin softening into a small smile. 

He paused for a moment, tongue wetting his lips before he soldiered on.

“So, ah, I guess now would be a good time to m-m-maybe ask you out? When you’re free, of course-”

“Yes!” 

Poor Grimm nearly jumped at your acceptance. but soon the loud thumps of his tail wagging against the floor fill your ears once more. 

“Then it’s a date, then!” The dragon gave you a toothy grin as his face exploded into red. 

A rapid set of knocks suddenly cut through the soft, vanilla-scent air, and you whipped your head to see the tiny peppermint maid from before opening the door. 

She gently pushed through, a rococo tea set clinking along a tray in her hands. As she raced across to set down the still piping-hot drinks on top of the coffee table, she turned towards you. 

“You might want to make yourself scarce, dearie. The baroness is set to wrap up her phone call soon!”

You quickly nodded, gently pushing past Grimm to snatch up the book off the floor. A brief glance at the cover and title caused you to shoot your soon-to-be date a sly look, earning you a flustered cough for your troubles. 

The peppermint maid soon tugged at your sleeves, silently urging you to get a move on. You turned and mouthed a small ‘I’ll see you during my break’ before you were effectively dragged out by the round older woman. 

You and Grimm shared a tiny wave of goodbye before you were out the door, book still clasped in your hands. 

As you quietly parted ways with the maid along the halls, you eagerly planned out an outfit to wear for your now upcoming date.

[border-spam]

NSFW late COV era Troy HCs pt:2

I write him in this AU as pan sexually and fem leaning romantically, these are all specific to a strong but hidden relationship with a very trusted fem partner late COV era. 

Too young? Don’t click. 

Not your thing? No clicky. 

Part:1 is here

As much as he enjoys submission and handing control over to a smaller, weaker partner he can trust completely to not judge or ridicule him when he's begging for her touch, he loves physically dominating her as long as he knows she wants him to. That's the entire chase for him. Knowing someone wants him to do it.

Regardless of how underweight or slight he is, he's still a huge man and intensely physically strong. He can easily hold a smaller person down with one arm, or lift them, or restrain them... he'd never hurt someone he cares about, the trust factor is of major importance. That kindness never extended to the followers he’d sleep with before her.

Praise kink? Holy shit. Praise kink. Doesn't know he has one till he cums seconds after being told how perfect and beautiful he is while she strokes him and kisses along his damaged shoulder joint, realising she means every word. Spends the rest of the night an apologetic, embarrassed mess.

Shyly asks for it again later.

Rarely takes initiative and prefers to shower her with physical affection and whiny neediness when in private. If he's got a moments peace in private and out of the limelight, he won't waste it if she's there. Will follow her around the quarters if he has to just so he can keep in physical contact.

The constant neediness can get a little irritating. Dragging in for kisses, a hand under her shirt collar or hem, constantly likes to touch. Also wants to make very clear it's because he wants physical affection with her, not just sex. 100% horny all the time and responds to the slightest hint of interest. Will straight up try and crawl onto a lap if she sits still long enough and there is enough room next to her to try and squash his bulk against her.

His health problems mean he can get exhausted easily, so he prefers giving oral and foreplay until he can’t hold back anymore rather than immediately going for more tiring options.

Same goes for positions, and he has no problem at all with letting her top for as long as she likes, at least until he decides he wants to take control..

Has zero concern over nudity. None. Tends to not put anything on till absolutely needed, if he’s coming back to bed with breakfast or laying in for a few hours watching shit on his echofeed, he won’t be dressed. Deal with it. Or join in. All Good.

Prefers to not show much physical affection in public for a multitude of reasons, but when he needs to, he does, and it can be overwhelming.

He catches someone else paying more attention to her than he likes? He feels the pricks of jealousy along his spine? That won’t do. His entire physical demeanor changes. Eyes narrowed, muscle tight, moves closer to her.

They usually pick up on it and back off, it's impossible not to when that monstrous silhouette is towering behind the person you are trying to flirt with.

If they don’t, and he’s in public and has the God King persona to uphold, the speed he can switch from physical intimidation to violence is terrifying, and only had to happen in relatively public eye once for people to get the idea and back off a lot quicker in the future.

Once he’s confident his position has been made clear, if he can get her out of sight for even just a handful of minutes, he'll have her hoisted against a wall with her legs over his shoulders and his hand over her mouth to muffle the moans as he ravenously eats her out.

She's his. She knows that, he knows that, even if they have to act professional, like she’s some kind of subordinate to Father Troy. Even if she has to humor others in his presence, even if no one else can know.

He needs to remind her who she belongs to and how much she's wanted. He needs to be able to taste her for the next few hours while acting out his normal façade in front of the screeching masses and cameras.

He’s too big for oral comfortably, but absolutely loves when the effort is made. If she chokes on him she won't be able to wipe the smirk off his face for hours. He takes it as such a confidence boost.

Lazy, soft, morning sex? Open and gentle? Vulnerable and close? Slow, passionate open mouthed kisses before the dawn breaks and starts to filter light into his Sanctum? His absolute favorite time to be with her. Do not tell anyone holy shit do NOT he has a REPUTATION TO UPHOLD OK??

While he’s attracted to a similar body shape on men, he has barely any softness to his physique and finds he goes apeshit over any soft parts on a woman's. Bum? Thighs? Lower belly? Breasts? Hickey marks. Everywhere. Bites if she'll allow em.

Bending over near him is a long term injoke she knows runs the risk of either getting a grope or a slap in private. If she does it back some point later, he will not be responsible for wether she will be able to walk or not the next morning.

Has a trigger for curves in general. Form fitting clothing? Business attire or shape hugging gala dress while in public with him? Will watch her like she's prey. Like he's going to eat her alive if she gets close enough to grab. Eyes won't leave her outline for the entire event regardless of who's trying to get his attention.

He’ll pull her into a room and huskily rasp into her ear that “Your King needs you now.” as he hitches her skirt up and backs her towards anything he can bend her over or sit her on.

The need to keep this secretive means quick, heavy rutting, either from behind or lifted onto something to give him the right leverage. He’s desperate and sloppy, but will make sure she comes before he does. He's an expert at managing his appearance and moods publicly but.. well.. some things can still crumble that façade. Her, specifically.

Extremely sensitive skin due to low body fat. Has a lot of areas that stroking will leave him a whimpering mess. Sides and nape of his neck, his throat, collar bone, ribs, socket scar, abdomen, pelvic ridge, hip bones. 

Can easily make him fall asleep just by fluttering fingers over his skin most nights. Fantastic when she needs 5 minutes of NOT HAVING HIM CONSTANTLY MOANING FOR ATTENTION.

A combo of predatory urges and a deep seated mommy kink means he’s never really sure if he wants to bite into her flesh, or suckle her and whine. 

This can lead to worrying accidents in the heat of the moment with sharp teeth he forgets he’s modded. His health issues means a very well stocked medical kit is always in arms reach on his ship and he's worryingly well versed in managing minor wounds, but he apologises profusely even if it barely hurt.

Has a huge weak point for nursing, and finally feels safe enough with a close partner to indulge, usually in the afterglow as they begin to drift to sleep together. Tends to nuzzle into her chest while asleep most nights, arm usually pressed against her back holding her tightly in place.

Generally pretty shameless about kinks, but has big problems opening up about any vulnerable ones like this. Trusts her completely, but the idea of it getting out still makes him anxious sometimes.

Will open mouthedly beg against her lips when close to finishing, panting desperately as he pleads to be allowed cum inside her. Embarrassed by it afterwards but he needs to. He needs to. He doesn't know why. 

If they aren't safe then he'll pull out and pump across her stomach, but his fingers will trail through it after and press into her mouth. It's all part of the ritual. He wants every part of her, please, please, please want him. Please. Want him. He loves so hard.

Asks are open!

ps I’m not actually sure where this screenshot came from but I think it might have been circiva.tumblr.com! Give them a check out!

[nev3rfound]

lost love : b.b

brief summary: bucky reminisces on his days with you, the love of his life he lost

word count: 1.9k requested: nope, this is inspired by the bathroom scene between steve and robin in stranger things s3  warnings: kinda angsty, bit sad

* masterlistin’ 

* commissions

Sam laughed lightly as he held his drink up toward Bucky. “Come on, Buck.” He encourages as Bucky shuffles forward in his seat, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he sips his drink.

“Alright, truth,” Bucky answers, watching as Sam relaxes back into the sofa. He glances over to Natasha and Steve, who raise eyebrows as Sam grins momentarily before facing Bucky.

“Have you ever been in love, Barnes?” Sam finally asks, his question forms slowly, but it hits Bucky too quickly.

Steve watches closely, seeing Bucky sink down in the armchair, his grip on the beer in his hand loosening and his brows furrow together. 

Remaining quiet, Bucky knows his answer. He knew from the moment he first met you that it was going to be the case, but if he spoke too soon could it ruin it. “Yeah, I have.” Bucky answers softly. “It was the kind of love you don’t read about in books or be displayed in museums or anything.” 

Lifting his head up, Bucky meets Sams wide eyes. “Seriously? Someone fell for your cold ass heart?” Sam jokes and Bucky laughs under his breath, nodding. “Come on, Barnes. Who was the special lady?” 

“Her name was Y/n, Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n.” Bucky recites your name with such sweetness it’s tooth aching. Steve smiles to himself, letting out a soft sigh.

“Oh, Y/n.” Steve comments, Natasha glancing up to see Steve’s eyes glazed over, his mind back in another time. “She was something else.” 

Bucky lowers his head, feeling his hair fall into his eyes. “Yeah, she, she was unlike anyone I ever met.” He brushes the hair out of his face, something you always did in the early hours of the morning as he held you close to his chest. 

“Who was she?” Natasha speaks up, curiosity overtaking her stoic expression. 

“She wasn’t like the other girls we knew in Brooklyn.” Bucky starts, his mind wandering back to the day he first met you. “She wasn’t falling at my feet for a start.” 

Sam scoffs lightly. “And you picked her?” 

Shaking his head, Bucky clears his throat. “I didn’t pick her, she picked me.” Bucky explains. “I was smitten by her bluntness, her downright honesty with me. She didn’t care for my charms, the attempt at swooning her for a dance. She saw the marks from another woman on my neck, Steve hanging by and eyes following her every step from across the street.” 

Steve can remember it clearly too. You were his neighbour, a training nurse who had no time for bullshit. You wanted to make a difference in the world, or at least to those in it. Bucky was always around, and when he saw you for the first time he whistled to you. Unlike the other girls he met, you turned around and swore at him rather than found it complimenting. 

“She didn’t have time for you, Buck.” Steve admits, and Bucky agrees with his friend, knowing it was true. “But that clearly didn’t stop you.” Steve sips his drink, seeing Bucky lean back in the sofa. 

“How’d she end up with you then?” Tony walks in, leaning against the sofa Sam and Clint are on. 

“Mixture of perseverance, a lot of flowers and her forcing me to be who I am, not who I try to be.” Bucky tells everyone, and Natasha can see Bucky softening. His hard exterior melting under the mention of his past with you by his side. “She helped me become the version of myself I should always be, and that I shouldn’t have to hide behind a bad boy persona.” 

The room falls silent as Bucky’s sentence hangs in the air. Clint leans forward, exhaling heavily. “Well, on that note, who’s next?” He asks and the game continues, but Steve can see Bucky isn’t really with them, he’s still back in Brooklyn with you by his side.

*

Sitting on the balcony, Bucky quietly reads his book as Steve walks out. Bucky knows it’s Steve based on the heavy energy that he shuts inside, leaving him to talk freely with his friend without fear of being heard. “Everything alright, Steve?” Bucky turns his head, seeing Steve carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

“How come you don’t talk about her?” Steve asks quietly, knowing he doesn’t have to specify who. 

Bucky tabs the corner of his book before closing it, placing it by his side as he rises from the single chair that lines the wall of the balcony. “She was part of my past, Steve.” 

“But what if she’s still out there?” Steve steps forward, moving closer to be alongside his friend. “I found Peggy, what if you can find Y/n?” 

Steve watches as Buckys gaze becomes cold as he stares at him. “And what Steve? What am I supposed to do?” Bucky retorts. “Y/n fell for the man I was, I, I don’t want her knowing who I have become.” 

The words hover in the atmosphere, refusing to budge as Steve takes them in, one by one. It burns his lungs, the pain that stabs at them from Bucky’s tone. He’s defeated, completely lost with himself. 

“You’re a great man, Buck.” Steve places his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, flashing a reassuring smile. “And from what I remember of Y/n, she wasn’t one to shy away from anything.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckles. “she never gave up easy.” 

*

Walking down the street, Bucky followed the route he memorised from his first visit. From the moment he had access to the modern world when he was free from HYDRA he refused to waste another minute of his time. He was determined to find you, find out what happened to you after he fell from the train. 

Bucky had promised you he’d come home, that you would start the family together you always envisioned. You were in the war too, a nurse for the soldiers at the camps. When he fell, all he could think of is you and what would happen if you never found out. 

He spent hours reading about you, the woman you became after the war. You remained in Brooklyn, you helped rebuild the city and worked closely with the community. You did what you always wanted to do, you helped the people first and foremost. 

Yet, everything Bucky read wrote about you in the past tense. At first, it didn’t really register what that meant until he stumbled onto one article. The last article that you were ever featured in. 

As his eyes scanned the words, his heart fell into his stomach. The last few strands holding it together, after decades of abuse, cold blood on his hands and pain of losing himself all he had was you. But you’re gone, you’re lost.

It hurt. It hurt like nothing Bucky had endured in all of his life. When he fell from the train, the pain was physical to the surface. Everything he went through in HYDRA was numbing, he wasn’t made to feel anything in there. But this, seeing a photograph of you as an older woman with the same bright smile he adored broke him. 

Within days he found out where you were buried. He visited you weekly without anyone knowing. In his mind, if no one knew he could keep up the facade that somewhere out there, you’re still alive. How to Steve, you are still Bucky’s love, even if you’re much older and have lived a long life, you’ll forever be the woman Bucky Barnes fell for. 

Walking into the plot of land, Bucky passes through various trees to find yours. When he first came to visit, he felt overwhelmed by the trinkets hung on the thin branches from families of those lost. Some placed jewellery, drawings, notes and photographs. He saw plaques of names unknown to him, but then he found yours. 

“Hey, doll.” He speaks up as he places his hands in his pockets, standing in front of your oak tree. “Getting tall I see, you should see the size of Steve now.” He jokes lightly. “I swear he is still gettin’ bigger, that or I’m officially shrinkin’.” 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Bucky looks down at your small plaque. The marble etched with your full name and a beautiful photograph of you. He smiles at the photo whenever he visits, thinking how you would’ve looked if he could’ve known you that long. 

“I came to check on you, as I always do. I just wanna know you’re okay. Not that you wouldn’t be, 'cause you’re a strong gal.” Bucky rambles before sighing loudly. “Guess I don’t have the right words every time.” He admits, picturing you crossing your arms before threatening to turn around and walk away. “I know I’m not who I was, but I know he’s still in me deep down.” 

To the side of Bucky, he can see a young man approaching him. He clenches his fists in his pockets, feeling the plates of his metal arm whir together. The man moves closer, his eyes focusing on Bucky. 

“Sorry, I just, you’re him, aren’t you?” The man questions, his eyes glistening in the sunlight like yours once did. 

Bucky remained perplexed and glanced over his shoulder, ensuring no one was around him to be mistaken by. The young man laughed lightly before stepping closer. 

“You’re Bucky, Bucky Barnes?” He asks gently, and Bucky slowly nods. 

“What’s it to you, kid?” He huffs, nerves beginning to eat at his stomach as the young man smiles brightly.

“You are just how she always described you.” He comments before looking down at your small photograph with a small smile. “She always told us stories of her friends when she was younger, and the lost soldier she loved.” 

Surprise lines Bucky’s expression as he opens his mouth. “Are you,” He starts, but his words falter.

The young man nods. “I’m her grandson, James.” He holds his hand out, and Bucky reaches forward and accepts it. 

He laughs lightly. “Was she happy?” Bucky asks quietly, something he couldn’t ever read about in articles or learn from photographs. He looked at James, watching as he nods in response.

“She lived a long and happy life, Bucky. Nana was a strong woman, a try fighter until the end.” James wipes his eyes as Bucky lowers his. “And she never forgot about you, she didn’t forget about anyone.” 

Bucky smiles to himself, feeling his heart being lifted back up just a smidge. “I never forgot about her either, James.” Bucky tells the young man, watching him carefully seeing the similarities of you in him. “You have her eyes, you know?” 

James looks up to Bucky. “I, I get that a lot. She helped me learn there are people in the world that need help, more than we do ourselves.” 

“Sounds about right.” Bucky comments, picturing you sat in his room rambling on about everyone you met on that day, the stories you heard and how many you wished to help. You had a heart of gold, one Bucky never felt he deserved to hold. “Thank you, James.” 

“Thank you, Bucky for making my Nana so happy.” James sniffs lightly, watching as Bucky walks off leaving James a moment to himself with his Grandmother. 

Bucky glances back to your tree as tears begin to fall down his face. You were happy, and that’s all that matters. 

[thecorpulentbeagle]

Okujima Week 2020: Alternate Universe

We are nearing the end of this challenge – I hope that you have enjoyed so far!

This story is AU, or Alternate Universe. I spent much less time than last year deciding what universe to set this in. Anyone who knows me knows that when I’m not writing fanfiction, working, sleeping, or eating, I am playing Fire Emblem Three Houses. It’s a really fun game, and a lot of the mechanics are similar to Persona 5 (it even has some of the same voice actors). If you like Fire Emblem (or are a fan of medieval times) and Persona 5 (which I assume that you do since you have read this far in the challenge), I encourage you to pick it up!

I would like to ask those who are commenting to please make sure that you mark if your comments contain spoilers for Fire Emblem Three Houses! Though I have personally, many people may not have finished all of the routes yet, and I’d like to keep them spoiler-free. This story will only feature information that can be obtained in Part One – basically information that you learn in the beginning of the game so that you know how the world is set up, and basic facts about the characters. If you are still unsure, feel free to skip this chapter and come back once you have finished Part One.

One more note: I began writing this before the “Cindered Shadows” DLC, so characters and plot points from that route will not be in this story. However, one class will be in this story, but that in and of itself isn’t a spoiler.

Here is the fanfiction.net link.

Please enjoy this sixth part of the Okujima Week 2020 Challenge!

As always: THIS STORY WILL NOT CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR PERSONA 5 ROYAL, BUT WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR PERSONA 5.

Okujima Week 2020 Challenge:

Not Just a Crest:

Alternate Universe

-Haru-

“Rah!” Haru swung her training axe down, flinching slightly as she made contact with her opponent’s training gauntlets.

“Ha!” Makoto batted away the weapon with one hand, using her other to punch her opponent’s side.

However, Haru jumped back, bringing her axe back to her side to ready it for another swing.

“Great dodge, Haru!” The girl in question smiled at her companion’s compliment.

“Thanks! You’re doing well too. I can imagine it’s hard to block a heavy swing like that with one arm.”

“Thank you! But flattery will get you nowhere!” Makoto moved forward, swinging her right fist.

Haru moved out of the way and quickly swung her axe to collide with Makoto’s left arm, hoping that it would sting enough for her to lose use of it for a moment.

Her prediction worked. Makoto’s arm dropped to her side, and she prepared to strike with her other.

But Haru expected this, so she made a quick feint and punched Makoto’s exposed side.

“Gah!” Makoto flinched.

Haru took advantage and swung her axe back up, striking the very place she had just hit.

Makoto jumped back, holding her side. “You’re relentless!” She seemed happy and animated despite the obvious pain she was feeling.

Haru merely smirked before charging in.

But now it seemed that she had fallen for Makoto’s trap.

While Haru was stronger, Makoto was faster. The brawler quickly dodged out of the way of Haru’s incoming axe and slammed her gauntlet into the small of Haru’s back, effectively knocking the wind out of her.

Before she could recover, Haru felt a strong force in her abdomen, and realized that Makoto had kicked her there.

She couldn’t fight anymore without being able to take deep breaths. Haru dropped her weapon and raised both hands, the universal signal for surrender.

“Giving up so easily?” Makoto taunted.

Haru nodded her head, not able to breathe enough to form words.

Makoto seemed to realize that something was amiss. Her confident smirk faded and was replaced with a look of utmost concern. “Haru? I didn’t break anything, did I?”

Haru smiled and shook her head. It seemed her diaphragm had stopped its spasms enough for her to breathe. “I-I couldn’t catch my breath…. f-for…”

Makoto was by her side at an instant. “Hey now. Don’t force yourself. I did hit you pretty hard. I’d be more surprised if the wind wasn’t knocked out of you.” She unstrapped her gauntlets from her hands and let them drop to the floor with a clatter. She rubbed a circle on Haru’s back, which soothed the girl.

Haru took a few more deep breaths. “I always forget… that brawlers… kick as well.”

Makoto chuckled. “Yes. Brawlers tend to be a little more versatile in their fighting techniques. We don’t always hit hard, but we can surprise you. Although I must say that I’m surprised as well. You don’t usually use your fists. Have you been training some in gauntlets as well?” Makoto asked.

Haru nodded. “Yes. I’ve asked the professor for some extra training. It’s nice to have a back-up in case my axe breaks or something.” She bent down to pick up the weapon and twirled it in her hands. “I’ll admit that I’ve learned some techniques from sparring with you as well.”

“Well, I think that’s enough training for now.” Makoto moved her hand away from Haru to rub her own side. “I can already feel the bruise starting to form. You really do hit harder than almost anyone I know.”

“I suppose we have my Crest to thank for that,” Haru automatically replied. She regretted it almost instantly. It was a hard habit to break. She had been told her entire life how important her Crest was, and that it was the only reason for her strength. Her family (specifically her father) had said to her many times that she should bring up her Crest in conversation whenever possible. It was the only thing that she was good for, and it would be what would land her a rich and noble husband one day.

Makoto reached out and placed a hand on Haru’s face, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Perhaps in part, but it’s also due to your training.” Then, she added the sentence she always did when Haru’s spirits fell in such a way, “You’re more than your Crest, Haru.”

The girl nodded. “You’re right as ever.” She reached up a hand to place it on Makoto’s. “Thank you, Makoto.”

“Of course.” Makoto stroked Haru’s cheek with her thumb, which caused her to sigh and lean even more heavily into her comforting palm.

--

“I’m glad that the Dining Hall had these today!” Haru cheered, sitting down at a free(ish) table with a plate of the Sweet Bun Trio. These were among her personal favorites.

“Indeed.” Makoto chuckled at her friend’s behavior and sat down across from her.

Haru knew that Makoto was not as fond of sweet food as Haru was (well, maybe not so much sweet as unhealthy), so she appreciated that she was supporting Haru by copying her food choice.

A lighthearted chuckle brought both girls’ attention to one of their many dining companions. Mercedes was looking at the two younger students, her eyes bright. “It makes me very happy to hear how excited you are about this meal.”

“Ah. Did you prepare it with the professor, Mercedes?” Makoto asked.

Mercedes nodded. “I did! So I hope that the two of you enjoy.” She lowered her voice. “I saw how dispirited Haru looked when you both entered the Dining Hall, and the best cure for sadness is sweetness!”

Haru hadn’t realized how publicly she had been displaying her emotions. Though it was common knowledge that Mercedes was particularly adept at reading people. Either way, Haru needed to acknowledge her kindness. “Thank you, Mercedes. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course! Thank you for talking with me. I’d talk with Annie, but she’s a little preoccupied at the moment.” The three girls looked over at the aforementioned student, who was currently stuffing her face with the delectable sweets. It didn’t even look like she knew that she was being talked about.

Haru giggled.

“She does look… happy…”

Haru cleared her throat with surprise. It sounded like she herself had spoken those words. It seemed as if Makoto and Mercedes had thought so as well, as the two looked at her curiously. However, even though the voice was similar, the tone was decidedly more somber than Haru’s usual inflection.

A thought struck her. Turning her head to see who else was near the group, she saw whom she had suspected. Marianne was sitting next to her, also with the Sweet Bun Trio dish, and she was looking at the group with a sad smile.

“Ah, Marianne! I’m so sorry. I thought that you were Haru.” Mercedes bowed her head slightly towards the girl.

“No need… for apologies…” Marianne poked at her food. “I know that I sound… very similar to Haru.”

Haru giggled again. The similarities between their two voices was a hot topic of discussion among the residents of Garreg Mach. It was said that the two were actually the same person that had been split in two, with Haru inheriting the more bubbly and happy aspects, and Marianne displaying the calmer and more depressed ones.

Haru didn’t appreciate that people thought of Marianne as only a sad person, as she herself had seen the girl smile. Though Haru had to admit that sight was rare.

Wanting to see that smile, Haru placed her hand on Marianne’s free one. “We should use it to distract our enemies. Think of how confused they would be to think that one person was in two places at once!”

Marianne gave a small smile, but didn’t look up from her food.

“Forget Haru and Marianne!” The group once again turned their collective heads towards the latest dining companion. Caspar gave a loud belch as he pounded his chest with his fist, which caused Makoto to scrunch her face up in slight disgust. Haru realized with amusement that Linhardt (who was sitting next to him) was making a similar expression.

“You know who really sounds similar? Makoto and Lady Rhea!”

“That’s true!” Annette had paused from her meal to join the conversation. “You really need to take advantage of that, Makoto.”

“Oh, Annie. You’ve got crumbs all over your face.” Mercedes proceeded to raise a napkin to her best friend’s face, wiping them off as the other protested about not being a child.

“I’m not going to do that.”

“Why not?” Caspar whined. “You could get away with all kinds of stuff! Excuse yourself from class… excuse me from class!”

“Exactly why did you enroll here in the first place?” Linhardt spoke up, rolling his eyes at his friend.

“Shut up!” Caspar roughly shoved the other boy, who grumbled. “I meant the boring stuff, like reading.”

“I happen to like reading,” Makoto replied.

“Can you even read, Caspar?” Annette teased.

“Besides,” Makoto hastily interrupted before Caspar (who had opened his mouth to retort) and the girl started a fight, “how would I do that? I’d have to be standing behind a wall or a door so the person couldn’t see me.”

“Lady Rhea is a very public figure. She enjoys being with the people, so that would be a difficult thing to accomplish,” Mercedes added.

Knowing he was outnumbered, Caspar merely mumbled something unintelligible before turning back to his meal, which caused everyone to laugh.

The rest of the dinner went by in a similar fashion, with the students conversing about what they had done today, and what they were looking forward to (and not looking forward to) tomorrow. Haru eased herself into the rowdy yet comfortable atmosphere, trying to forget about her worries from earlier. Even though Garreg Mach wasn’t perfect, it allowed people from all walks of life to spend time together, and Haru deeply appreciated that.

In the Dining Hall, she was just Haru the student, rather than Haru Okumura, the heir to one of Faerghus’ noble houses.

Before too long, Haru had finished her plate and turned to look at Makoto, who had finished a few minutes prior. The other girl was talking with Mercedes and Annette, who were laughing and nodding at whatever she had been saying.

Haru was glad to see Makoto getting along so well with her peers. When the two had started at the Academy together, Makoto had been more reserved. Not as much as someone like Marianne, but Haru could tell that she was not comfortable conversing with others when there wasn’t a specific social protocol to be following.

Haru had done her best to break Makoto out of her shell, and over the past few months, it seemed to have worked. She was also delighted to have gained a good friend in the process.

The two hadn’t really talked about their social standings, as it wasn’t a concern for them. However, Haru had been able to parse out that Makoto was a commoner from Faerghus with an elder sister. Neither of them had a Crest, though that didn’t stop either of them.

Sadly (and this had taken Haru quite some time to get from Makoto), her mother had passed early, shortly after Makoto was born. Her father had been a knight, and he had passed away a few years ago in a fight protecting merchants from wild beasts. It was a common occurrence unfortunately, though it didn’t make it any easier for those who were left behind. Sae, Makoto’s older sister, had had to put her own plans of becoming a knight on hold to help care for Makoto.

It was a testament to Makoto’s skill that she was able to get into the Academy at all, given how expensive the tuition was. Since Haru was from a noble family, it was a non-issue for her. However, Makoto had demonstrated talent early on, and her father’s and sister’s reputation helped her get recommended and eventually accepted.

Despite all of these setbacks, Makoto had persevered and had actually thrived. Haru truly admired that.

Even though Haru had entered the Academy with relative ease, she also had a difficult family situation. Her mother had passed early on in her life as well, and she did not get along with her own father at all.

She’d been a little bit cagier with her history, going so far as to not even tell Makoto that she was a noble, as she had been burned in the past. It wasn’t that she wanted to lie to Makoto, but she didn’t want the other girl to only be friends with her because she was a noble. However, Makoto did know about her family affairs, and she sympathized with her.

But then, Haru realized, she was getting caught up in depressing thoughts once again. Banishing the thoughts from her mind, she smiled and tapped Makoto’s shoulder, getting her attention. “Ready to go?”

Makoto nodded. “Yes. I can walk you back to your room, if you’d like?”

Haru blushed slightly. It was hard for her to not feel flattered. Considering how much she respected the other girl, it came as no surprise when, one day, she realized how deeply she respected Makoto. It also helped that the other girl was polite and charming, even when she wasn’t trying to be.

“That would be wonderful, thank you.”

The two rose up together, with Makoto picking up both of their plates and cutlery. “That’s very sweet of you,” Haru commented.

She smiled when she saw that she had drawn forth a blush on Makoto’s face. “O-Of course! You’ve had a rough day. It’s the least I could do, really.” She hesitated before adding, “Especially considering that I hit you so hard that I knocked the wind out of you.”

A chuckle drew their attention to Annette, who was grinning at them. “What were you two getting up to? I mean, I know that people are into different things, but what –ow!” Her wide smile collapsed and turned into a snarl as she looked at Mercedes, who was smiling sweetly at her. “What was that –?”

“Have a good evening you two!” Mercedes waved at the pair, interrupting whatever Annette had been planning to say.

“Thank you.” Makoto bowed her head slightly before turning around to leave, Haru following after her after exchanging goodbyes with the rest of the table.

After depositing their items at the counter, the two students walked outside, the slightly cool air feeling good on Haru’s skin after being in the crowded Dining Hall.

“It’ll be autumn soon,” Makoto commented as the two made their way to the dorms.

“Yes. I love all of the seasons, but fall is especially beautiful.”

“Hm.”

The two walked in silence, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. However, Makoto seemed to think it was.

“Apologies for… not saying much.” Makoto laughed nervously.

“Not to worry!” Haru bumped her playfully on the shoulder. “I know crowds can wear you out. I’m perfectly content walking without saying a word.”

“I see.”

Haru took a deep breath, appreciating the calming atmosphere. Most students were either in the Dining Hall, the Training Grounds, or in their own rooms. The few people who were outside were fishing, and they were silent, trying not to scare the fish away.

She saw that one of the people fishing was the professor, who currently had a basket of fish lined up next to them. She giggled as Byleth whipped another fish out of the water and calmly plopped it down into the already overflowing basket. The professor merely pulled another basket towards their side and cast out another line, either ignoring or being oblivious to the small crowd that had gathered and was currently ogling them and their large haul.

After a few more minutes, the two reached the second floor, where Haru’s room was located.

Haru opened her door and beckoned Makoto inside, who nodded and followed, closing the door behind herself wordlessly.

“Please make yourself comfortable.” Haru gestured towards one of her chairs as she situated herself on her bed. Makoto did so.

“Would you like to talk?” Makoto asked quietly after a brief moment of silence.

“About what?”

“Haru, there’s no need to have your defenses up with me. You know that.” Makoto crossed her legs and folded her hands together, resting them in her lap.

“Are you going to be my therapist for this evening?” Haru joked, not wanting to launch right into a serious conversation.

Makoto laughed. “That is one of the few things Garreg Mach cannot prepare you for.”

Haru lied down on the bed on her back, straightening her skirt. “Perhaps, but a War Cleric can probably solve a lot of problems.”

“True. A Warrior would be helpful as well.”

Haru giggled, acknowledging Makoto’s compliment.

“I’m not going to force you. But I want you to know that I’m here for you.”

Haru sighed. “It’s nothing more than my Crest.” She raised a hand and looked at it before making a fist. “I know it’s a blessing to have one… but I can’t help but notice… how many problems it’s caused in my life.”

When Makoto said nothing, Haru continued, “Everyone here is nice, and no one cares whether or not I have one. Well, other than Professor Hanneman, but his is more of a professional interest.” She placed her hand back down at her side. “But I can’t help but worry that, once I’ve graduated, my father will put his foot down and force me to take a husband to pass on this… horrible blessing.”

“What if I have a child that bears a Crest? Of course, I’ll need to continue having children until one inherits mine.” Haru shivered slightly at the thought. “Once I do… then I’ll be forced to watch my own child be put through the same fate as me. The cycle will continue.”

At Makoto’s continued silence, Haru turned her head to see what her reaction had been to Haru’s sudden monologue. “I… haven’t put you to sleep, have I?”

Far from an expression of boredom, Makoto had a look of intense rage on her face. Her eyebrows were so furrowed it looked painful, and her frown was similar to when she was about to slay one of her enemies. Haru’s heart skipped a beat seeing such an expression on her usually calm friend’s face.

“Haru. You never have to worry about talking about your struggles. I’ll listen as much as you need me to.” She breathed out roughly through her nose. “And I will always be as furious as I am now when you talk about your family situation.” Haru saw that Makoto was making fists. “The fact that you have to worry about any of this… is appalling. And worse yet… I can’t help.”

Haru looked at her confused. “But Makoto, just being able to talk about my problems with you is enough.” She gave her a sad smile. “Having these thoughts and feelings without having an outlet for them… would be maddening. I’m able to deal with them because of you.”

“That’s not what I mean!” Makoto stood up, causing Haru to sit up. Makoto immediately looked sheepish and lowered her voice. “That’s not what I mean,” she repeated quietly. “I meant… that if I were a nobleman, I could help. I could marry you, and then your fate would be a little bit more bearable.”

Haru looked at her incredulously. “Marry…?”

“However, I am neither a noble nor a man, so I can only stand by and offer support.” Makoto sat back down, looking tired. “You deserve more than that fate, Haru… so much more. I know that being a commoner presents its own struggles, but a noble’s… are awful as well.”

“You…” Haru was shocked. Too many surprises were hitting her at once, and she was already struggling to keep her emotions in check. “You would want to marry me? And… you know that I’m a noble?”

Makoto gave a small smile. “I feel that neither of those facts are particularly shocking.” She stood up and sat down next to Haru, resting a hand on one of hers. “Those with Crests tend to be nobles. Plus, commoners usually to get to marry who they want. I have no such restrictions, for example.” She squeezed her hand. “True, there are some commoners who worry more so about their marriage partners, but worry to this degree is restricted to nobles. In addition, look where we are right now.”

“Hm?”

“The second floor is for nobles, with very rare exceptions,” Makoto explained. “Finally, my father and sister served and want to serve as knights for the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and I’d like to as well one day. We know the names of all of the royal houses, and once I learned your surname, well… I put two and two together.”

Now that Makoto said it all out loud, it seemed silly that Haru could have ever hoped to keep her status a secret to her. But there was a more important fact on her mind now. “And the marriage…?”

Makoto blushed. “Um.. yes. That.” She cleared her throat. “Haru. I know that we’ve only been friends for a few months now, but I do care about you.” She laughed nervously. “I don’t want to propose marriage right now, as that’s a bit soon, and it wouldn’t work in your situation. However, I would like to court you, if you would allow it.” She raised a hand to Haru’s cheek. “I know… that your father probably already has a husband lined up for you the moment you graduate and return home. I’d… like to support you, have you enjoy these next few months so that when you do marry… at least you’ll have made some pleasant memories about romance in your life.”

Haru was speechless. Apparently, she had been too consumed with not showing her own feelings that she hadn’t realized how strong Makoto’s were in return. “Makoto…”

“If you’d rather not, either because you don’t care for me in that way, or you just don’t want to because you’ll have to stop eventually, then please let me know. All I want… is to make you as happy as you’ve made me.”

“I do care about you in that way. Truly, Makoto,” Haru finally responded, turning her head to kiss her friend’s palm gently. “You’re right that I distanced myself because I didn’t want to… lead you on, only to have to suddenly break up with you to pursue a husband.” She sighed. “I’m sorry about not telling you that I was a noble. I should have guessed that you would’ve been able to figure it out, but I so desperately wanted someone to like me… for me, as cliché as that sounds.” She giggled.

“Even if it is cliché, it’s the truth, and I can understand your desire for it.” Makoto wiped a tear off of Haru’s face. She hadn’t even realized that she had been crying.

“And if I might offer a glimmer of hope. That situation may not even happen. The three lords that are currently next in line all seem to have much more… lenient attitudes towards status and customs.” Makoto smiled. “Each generation becomes slightly more progressive, so hopefully, Crests and the like won’t matter so much.”

“As much as I’d like to believe that, I’m afraid that change doesn’t happen so quickly without a catalyst.”

“Perhaps. If that doesn’t work out, how would you feel about eloping?”

Haru choked on air, spluttering at the suggestion. “You would really consider that? We’d have to leave the Kingdom to avoid my father’s wrath.”

Makoto shrugged. “People have done that in the past, so it’s not technically unprecedented. I would miss Sis though.” She shook her head. “But all of this is a bit beside the point, as we haven’t even confirmed if we are going to be a couple.”

“Oh, of course.” Haru cleared her throat. “I would be honored to be courted by you, and would like to court you as well, for as long as we are able.”

Makoto chuckled. “Another thing that gave you away was your formalities.”

Haru laughed. “Hey! You speak formally as well sometimes. And I noticed that you didn’t give me an answer.”

“Should I? I offered first and you accepted.”

“I would like you to say something.”

“Of course.” Makoto cleared her throat. ���Thank you, Haru,” she said earnestly.

“Thank you, Makoto.” Haru leaned over and gave the girl a kiss on the cheek, which caused her to blush.

Even if it was only temporary, Haru was determined to spend as much time as she could with Makoto. And to figure out how many ways she could tease her, as she was quite cute when she was embarrassed.

Haru was chained to her fate, but chains could always be broken. And they would find a way to do just that.

Together.

--

For those of you who played both Persona 5 and Fire Emblem: Three Houses, I’m sure that you heard the similarities in voices of some of the characters. I remember when I heard Rhea’s and Marianne’s voices for the first time – I immediately looked at the voice cast for the game, and confirmed that Rhea/Makoto and Marianne/Haru share voice actors!

It was hard not showing preference to any house, but now that I’m writing comments, I feel comfortable in saying… Blue Lions Best House!

Just kidding! All houses have their merits, and Golden Deer and Black Eagles are both great. I just have a bias towards Blue Lions since I played that route first. Feel free to let me know which house is your favorite in the comments!

Anyway, I hope that you all enjoyed. I will see you tomorrow!

[trulycertain]

Unpopular opinion: god, Batman v Superman had some really good ideas that it chucked down the U-bend, and there are parts of it I really enjoyed. I don’t regret seeing it (and yes, I watched the Extended Cut. All three hours). I was just discussing this with @masutrout​, and here’s a slightly abridged version of my thoughts.

Look, I know no-one sets out to make a bad film, and with so many moving parts, a film getting released at all is a miracle. I know it’s not down to one person and (I’m quite glad) it’s not up to me, because I have no idea how to make films. But if I had, say, a magic lamp and a wish for an ideal BvS and DCEU in general... Here’s what I liked; here’s what I’d magically tweak in a parallel universe; here’s a rant. A 2.2k rant. An Extended Cut rant.

I know it's all desaturated and so on, but I genuinely really love Snyder's style. Dude can set up a shot, and he knows how to use chiaroscuro. In theory, I totally get why they'd look at him and go, "his shit is like comics brought to life, pick him." I wish he'd just... allow a bit more colour into it and let people colour grade properly, because the Metropolis/Gotham Clark/Bruce contrast could've been played up beautifully with visual language and colour too. I mean, I know he can do overwrought iconography and imagery, look at how they went to the trouble of CGI'ing Clark's cape in every scene because it was such a banner, and the pop of red. 

I'll admit, I wasn't always all-in on Affleck's performance, though it was one of his best in his back catalogue (I am one of the few people I know who has zero problems with him as an actor and tends to find it more the material, but I grew up on Kevin Smith films and his shtick works for me, even if he has a manner. I'm not too discerning). But. A Bruce who's tired and broken-down and greying and has lost even more, and still in the aftermath of that, tries to find hope and "I can't let this happen to anyone else" again, in the wake of one more death? God yes give it to me. A Bruce who's taller than Clark and just plain tall in general, because maybe Kryptonian ideals are different and because it'd give Bruce one more thing to desperately play down? God yes. Just... in general, middle-aged Bruce but without a lot of the Batfam stuff (which I like, I have a love for several of the Bats, but my favourite stories are always solo) with a regimen of painkillers and who's turned Wayne from an "I'll just jump into the water feature" jackass to a schmoozer and flirt and maybe a drunk. Take out the branding. I wanted Bruce as a broken idealist, not a fascist. It's actually way more fascistic than the original Dark Knight Returns, even. But goodness, the whole idea of an established, tired Batman is good. There’s a reason the comics and animations keep coming back to it.

"Superman was just a story. Superman was just the dream of some farmer from Kansas." I forget the exact phrasing, but everything about that idea, and this idea that Superman is as much an ideal for Clark to live up to as everyone else, and he’s daunted by it? Yeah. There’s something in there.

I loved everything about Jeremy Irons' Alfred. Seriously, everything. Tech guru, little less RP, little rougher around the edges, clearly has some scars of his own. Absolutely biting, even more than most incarnations, and gets all the best lines. Yes, keep that, it'll do.

I liked the voice changer... halfway. To me it makes way more sense than putting on a voice, which is a bit daft and way more variable. I just wouldn't have gone that heavy on the processing, so that Bruce sounded less like a hacker from 1999. I also thought it was a good way of representing how Bruce desperately tries to emotionally distance himself when he’s the Bat, and how his anger has made him colder.

Batman as just a rumour or an urban legend is great, and a wonderful contrast to Superman, who’s this bright, transparent... common god. Bruce never did it for credit, he did it to get it done. It’s stretching the bounds of credulity, sure, but in this strange, semi-operatic storytelling with heavy myth feel, it makes a bunch of sense thematically.

Bruce meeting Martha Kent, and their first meeting being him saving her life. Even this broken-down Batman who thinks he’s a mess. Actually, just more Martha in the DCEU in general.  I mean, I get why they didn't lean into it so much because they maybe wanted Bruce and Clark to feel more like equal peers, rather than Bruce being too dadly, but... god, again, more Martha. In JL, in something, if nothing else. Martha who's lost a son (Jason); Martha who later has a son in another city trying to do good and is worried as hell about them (Dick's canonically in Bludhaven PD at this point); Martha who is one of about five people in the world who knows who Batman is and hasn't spilt that information; Martha who saw Bruce at the cemetery and might have some really interesting things to say to him, angry or forgiving; Martha who is one of the few people who's seen the good in the Bat (when Bruce himself couldn't)... Man, I was so, so glad that fic leaned into that. I would read a regular comic book of just Martha and Bruce Being Reluctant Friends and Worrying A Little About Their Kids, But Maybe In An Enemies-To-Friends Way Because Holy Shit You Had A Fucking Spear What the Fuck.

No, really, wait, I’m going to go on about Martha again.  The scenes in BvS where she was basically saying, "God, don't kill yourself for them, come home, if they're gonna hate you they don't deserve you..." On the one hand she could've been a contrasting voice to Jon, but this way also makes sense. "I know you want to help but please don't kill yourself..." It was always both parents in the comics who affected him equally, even if the Donner films had his father's death, iirc. It was Martha who pushed to keep him, Jon who taught him not to break people and show off, Martha who taught him how to cook and be gentle with things and in Superman: Birthright, which MoS is heavily, badly based upon (I love that miniseries, time to read it again) she researches alien sightings in the hope he won't be alone. I get why they went for a more "grounded" Kryptonian uniform thing, but Martha made his costume, in the original canon. In all canons, she was a huge help in creating the "Clark Kent" persona (yeah, sure, maybe a woman would have something to say about making yourself quiet and shrinking in a room and having to look helpful and nonthreatening all the time, but Snyder and Goyer were never gonna be the kind of people to explore that and even Waid, whom I love, barely touches on it). Every other film or comic book is crap, dead, or crap and dead dads. Clark's relationship with his mother and father is hugely important.

Getting to see Bruce doing the society beat, and just a little more philanthropy would've been great. You don't have time to build that character? Sure, OK. Take out the Flash dream sequence and the sleeping-with-random-women, maybe don't have a totally unnecessary but kinda hilarious shower scene, and replace it with some identity weirdness where Bruce and Clark are stuck interacting as civilians a little more. Or something about what the hell happened with Jason and the manor, though I don't mind most of it being unexplained. There, still building character, still serving a purpose, you can fit a brief scene into your three hour movie. Civil War had a ton of "Steve Rogers and Tony Stark brood or sit in rooms talking to each other."

If they were going to throw away all the secret-identity potential, they could at least have done it interestingly. That scene at the gala made it clear how hard they both had to act, and Jesus, the idea of Clark eventually, finally finding someone else who has to lie and cut off what they can do, who has to bumble almost the way he does... That could've been interesting and also maybe worried the shit out of him. Or made him want to talk to this crazy billionaire who goes round combat-booting people in the face and try and get what his deal was, which could've led to more interesting misunderstandings. 

And then there's Diana, who's not a bumbler but a "nothing to see here, rich eccentric" type too (no wonder she and Bruce had weird insane chemistry in that "sizing each other up/I know exactly what you are" way), and why the hell does Clark basically never see her? I actually don't mind the whole "she's only here for her photo and never meant to get involved, so she's only needing to chase Bruce," that makes sense, but after Doomsday?! In Justice League?! She understands what it is for the world to be frightened of you, resistant to you, the urge to go and hide where it's safe with your family, the loneliness. I mean, just imagine MoS!Clark meeting her and the goddamn relief of it. And the way it could've played off the whole Jonathan Kent is a creepy "kill em all" weirdo now thing, if they insisted on keeping it.

Similarly, please god please show Clark being a journalist more. Perry chewing him out more. A mild hint of office politics. That's the perfect place to leaven a rough film with a dose of humour. People wouldn't have been so bothered by "Is she with you?", which is actually not that terrible a line next to some Marvel "zingers", except for it being so tonally inconsistent. A gentle thread, a few moments of it. Maybe have Clark save someone and have to scrabble to keep his identity a secret, like in MoS - maybe a minute, you could go for some physical humour or a mild sight gag. Obviously, this'd be pre-bombing the courthouse. Relatedly... 

Take out Nairomi and the branding. They serve very little purpose, story-wise, basically never come back into the plot, and only serve to make Clark and Bruce look like dicks unnecessarily when if you want to inject flaws, you have a ton of opportunities to do it with how they deal with people and their loved ones, how they deal with perps, and their brooding moments. 

Seriously, Bruce kicking the shit out of people and investigating shipments from the Black Zero and World Engine crashes would be enough to worry and piss off Clark, as would the whole "I am the night"/lack of transparency shtick. I mean, for a start, John Byrne retconned their first meeting that way in the 80s and that issue is actually great (Clark is trying to arrest Bruce when they meet, because he's young and idealistic and maybe a little up himself and he's been Supes for about five and a half minutes). Look: Clark is being revered and hates it. He blames himself for Black Zero, at least a little. He has excellent reason to be desperately projecting brightly-coloured not-a-threat and also hate that someone else is terrorising a city and violence is being revered, especially when Metropolis and Gotham are still so raw. I mean... Snyder and Goyer did the fucking stupid offensive 9/11 comparisons. Look at how that affected people and still does to this day; emotions run bloody high, and the entire point of Clark is that he's still human and terrified and guilty. And with Wallace O’Keefe and all the threatening notes... look, there's already a good plot in there! 

Meanwhile, Luthor clearly knows Bruce has been sniffing around the K shipments and could've just tipped off Clark about that as well, saying, "He clearly is gonna use it for his own power, and with how sinister and opaque and violent he's already been, he's gonna hurt people." Having his heritage used against people is one of Clark's worst nightmares, it was implied pretty clearly in MoS, and you'd still have the righteous anger. No branding needed. Kryptonian artefacts and the entire masked violent vigilantism are already enough "this is someone who thinks he's above people and can decide their lives" to piss Clark off. He could even investigate that as himself rather than Supes. You need it to be an unanon tip-off and Keefe wouldn't have access to that information? Sure, OK, just filter it through Mercy Graves and make her a "worried confidential source." I mean, she's in the movie and completely wasted. Why not actually, you know, do something with her? Clark wants to believe the best in people, and he might dislike Luthor personally, but he doesn't know Luthor's out to get him yet - or wouldn't, if the writing was better. Again, Birthright, the text Goyer repeatedly ripped from, did this brilliantly. The brand... it's overkill. Grimdark overkill.

I actually... look, I had a really fun, if baffled, time with this movie, but goodness I’d like to see what it could’ve been. And now all the film sites are waving goodbye to Batfleck again while running DC retrospectives due to Birds of Prey, and Cavill’s blue tights are in doubt, it seemed like as good a time as any.

[feelingfredly]

Keep Your Friends Close (And Your Family as Far Away as Possible)

(My contribution to Kitsunegeddon 2019)

Summary:            

“Relatives are the worst friends, said the fox as the dogs took after him.” – Danish Proverb

Long lost relatives, yokai politics, magical turf wars…  or just another day in Ichigo’s messed up life. He should never have taken up playing the shamisen.

Chapter 2: Strange Things Are Afoot at the Circle K(urosaki)

“Tadaima!” Ichigo called out as he dropped his wet gear in the genkan.

“Okaeri!” Yuzu stuck her head around the corner to the living room with a smile. “Ichi-nii! I was about to sit down to watch the newest episode of Princess Jellyfish.  You want to watch it with me? I made popcorn.”

“Maybe next time. Where’s Karin?”

Yuzu made a face.  “She’s still at soccer practice.  Her coach wasn’t happy with their ‘work ethic’ during the last game, so they’re doing extra drills.”

“I thought they won?” Ichigo frowned and Yuzu shrugged.

“Apparently winning isn’t everything.  Who knew?”

Ichigo shrugged back. “The world is full of mysteries.”

They stood like that for a second and then broke up laughing.  Kurosakis would take winning over mysteries any day.

“So, you want to tell me why you’re all wet, or should I chalk it up to another one of the world’s mysteries?

Ichigo snorted.  “Nothing that exciting.  I was practicing my shamisen in the park and got caught in a sun shower.  It wasn’t too bad, though.  I managed keep the strings dry, and the breeze on the walk home helped.”

Yuzu smiled.  “Oooh! I love kitsune no yomeiri. There’s something magical about that edge where two worlds mix.  Much prettier than the gate to Hell, although I can’t remember that as well as I’d like.  Still, it’s probably better this way.  Fewer nightmares.”

Ichigo stared at her for a moment, surprised by her matter-of-fact attitude about being kidnapped and taken to Hell, but then this was Yuzu.  Anyway, he’d prefer she never have nightmares at all. A faulty memory seemed a small price to pay.

“It’s strange that you mention weddings,” he pulled his thoughts back to the present. “I met someone while I was at the park. Nice older guy, but it was so weird.  He said he was there for his granddaughter’s wedding, but when I came out of the little clearing where I’d been playing there wasn’t anyone there.  Plus, to top it off, he said he recognized me, sort of.  Said we were distant relatives through Mom’s side of the family.  I didn’t even know Mom had relatives outside of Ishida’s family.”

Yuzu opened her mouth and Ichigo raised a hand to cut her off. “I did!  I invited them to the house as soon as he told me.  He said they couldn’t come because of the wedding.”

Disappointment painted his sister’s face as he’d expected.  “He did say he’d see me again soon, so I promise, if I do see him around, I’ll make sure to bring him to meet you and Karin, okay?”

Yuzu nodded gratefully and gave a half-smile. “How cool is that, though, that he knew Mom?”  She looked over to where the poster hung on the wall, their mom’s happy face looking over them larger than life.  “It would be nice to talk to someone who knew her so we can get to hear something other than Dad’s crazy stories. I mean, I have so many questions, you know?”

Ichigo knew.

“He said that it was a big family, so who knows!  Maybe there will be cousins in the area that you can make friends with.” Ichigo stuck his hands in his pockets, fighting off the urge to give his little sister a hug, and bumped against the little stone that Hakuzosu had given him. “Oh and look at this!”  He pulled it out and held it out, a shiny distraction from too many feelings. “He gave me this, too!”

Yuzu looked at the ball rolling in his palm. “Uh, Ichigo?” She stepped forward and picked the almost-pearl up gingerly. “You say he gave you this?”

Ichigo shrugged a little awkwardly.  “Well, he showed up talking about the wedding and how I’d basically crashed the party with my shamisen playing.”

Yuzu gave him a sympathetic cringe and he nodded. “Yeah, I know, but he was cool about it. He said that I’d given his granddaughter a gift.  It was really nice, actually, and then we were just standing there talking, and he pointed at that on the ground by my feet.” He indicated the ball. “Hakuzosu-san thought I’d dropped it.  But I’ve never seen it before, and I told him so.  It was pretty, though.   When I picked it up it just felt…?  Nice, you know?”

The surface shimmered under Yuzu’s fingers, and Ichigo couldn’t help feeling like he wanted to take it back.

Something in her face told him he was missing something important.

“Ichigo,” she spoke, her voice hesitant, “you know that Dad gave me and Karin Mom’s jewelry box, right?”

The jewelry box was one of their most prized possessions, filled with hairpins and little bits of jewelry that Isshin had thought safe enough for the twins to keep, and when Ichigo nodded Yuzu let out a little sigh.

“Come with me,” she said, heading towards the room she and Karin shared, “I need to show you something.”

***

“And then she pulled out this one!”  Ichigo held up a second shiny sphere.  “She says it was in the jewelry box after Mom died.”

The green-striped hat covered even more of Kisuke’s face than usual and the band of shadow it cast was heavy enough that his eyes were simply a suggestion of movement in the darkness. Ichigo hated that hat.

He’d been hesitant to come in the first place, and now he wished he hadn’t. Trying to explain the weird maybe-relative that looked like Ichimaru Gin was bad enough, but Hey, look at this marble, isn’t it cool? Apparently, Mom had one just like it and the weird guy told me you’d want to see it made him sound crazy. Or desperate.  Or both.

Kisuke reached out and touched the glowing orb on the table between them and Ichigo imagined he could almost feel the contact.

“I wondered about this, once upon a time,” he said, gently rolling the ball back and forth with only the tip of his finger, “but your mother was very good at keeping her secrets.”  Kisuke peered out at him from the shadows and Ichigo realized there was a wariness there that he’d never seen aimed at him before. “Very good.”

Ichigo couldn’t argue with that; his Quincy heritage was still a mystery to him in many ways.  He could only think that Masaki would have explained things to him if she’d had time. That reminded him…

“Hakuzosu wasn’t a Quincy.”  Ichigo picked up his tea and tried to remember exactly what the old man had said. “I was wearing a thumb guard Ishida made for me, and as you can imagine, it’s blue and covered in little white crosses.   So, when Hakuzosu started talking about Mom and how she’d upset the elders when she married Isshin, I kind of indicated the crosses and he said No, boy, not those elders.”

Kisuke nodded, apparently unsurprised.  Ichigo wondered if he practiced that look in the mirror so that no one ever thought he was out of his depth, or if he’d simply seen so much that nothing fazed him anymore.

Or maybe he already knew about Hakuzosu and had been expecting the meeting. That would explain why Hakuzosu knew about Urahara and the shōten.

“Ever since Ichimaru’s look-alike showed up this morning, I’ve felt like I’ve been missing something.  Is this another weird Soul Society thing. You’re acting like it all means something significant, so why don’t you just come out and tell me?  Who was the guy, and why am I being set-up this time?  Is Mom’s marble some weird Quincy weapon that Kyouraku has decided has to come back under lock and key or something?”

Gray eyes snapped up to his.  Well, that was clearly a vote for Kisuke’s practicing in the mirror because that look was proof that something fazed him.

“For once, Kurosaki-kun, any machinations occurring have nothing to do with Soul Society.  Not that I blame you for jumping to that conclusion.”

The hint of frost in his tone implied the opposite.  The blond didn’t like the fact that Ichigo assumed he was being manipulated again.  The question was: did he dislike the assumption because it meant Ichigo was becoming harder to use, or because he didn’t like the idea of people using him at all?

It was probably a combination of the two.  Why be simple when you can be Kisuke?

“Let me see if I can translate the Urahara-ese.  You believe that there are machinations in the works, but you’ve eliminated Soul Society involvement, either because you’re already involved and you know they aren’t because you haven’t included them, or the little line between your eyebrows means that you’re miffed that someone else is running a scam on me without inviting you.  Since the Ichimur-alike pointed me in your direction, you clearly know something useful either way, and that means you’re my most likely source of information.” Ichigo leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “So, spill.”

“Don’t forget the third option, Kurosaki-kun.” Kisuke’s voice dropped, heavy with suggestion and just a hint of threat, as he lowered his chin and hid in the darker shadows his hat cast.

He was such a drama queen.

“You mean the possibility that you’re lying to me about Soul Society being involved?” Ichigo rolled his eyes. “No.  You may make me work for the truth, but you don’t lie to me anymore.” He shook his head in dismissal. “You said they weren’t involved, so they’re not involved.”

The certainty in his tone triggered an almost imperceptible response in Urahara and Ichigo couldn’t keep the satisfaction from his face. Honestly, he didn’t try very hard and the faint smile he got in response was worth it.

“I see I’m going to have to work harder on my inscrutability.” Kisuke shifted slightly, the dark and dangerous persona falling away from him like scales as it was no longer necessary, his focus shifting back on the twin spheres. “But, for what it’s worth, your summary is correct, and, again for what it’s worth, this mystery isn’t a creation of mine.”

They sat like that for a few moments until Ichigo got tired of waiting.

“Well, then, whose is it?”

Kisuke lifted Masaki’s sphere and held it up in the light.  It seemed to glow from within.

“Have you ever heard of hoshi no tama?” he asked, sounding almost sing-song as he turned the little ball this way and that.

“Star balls?  Like belong to kitsune?” Ichigo stopped as soon as the words were out of his mouth.  Surely Kisuke couldn’t mean….

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He looked down at the second, egg-sized stone.   Was it bigger than it was before? “Wait. Did mine grow?”

Kisuke placed Masaki’s sphere back on the table gently.  They were definitely not the same size anymore, and the larger one, Ichigo’s, now pulsed with a faint light.

Hoshi no tama.  It couldn’t be.

“Yoruichi always said there was something a little different about you, Kurosaki-kun.”

Ichigo snorted.  “You mean other than being a human-Shinigami-Quincy-hollow hybrid?”

Kisuke didn’t appreciate his humor.  “Precisely. Perhaps she could tell because of her ties to bakeneko.”

Amber eyes shot wide and the blond laughed.  “You didn’t think the cat-shape-shifting thing was something any Shinigami could do, did you? No.  Our Shihōin Princess has yokai blood, and you, it seems, may as well.”

Yokai blood didn’t sound good.  It didn’t sound good at all, but Ichigo couldn’t help but remember the stories that Masaki used to tell about wolf-like ōkami that protected little boys who kept adzuki beans and salt in their pockets as treats, and dangerous kappas who could only be defeated by clever boys who remembered to bow as deeply as possible so the monsters would spill the spirit water from the lilypad bowls they carried on their head and lose their powers. She told him about crow-like tengu who would punish the vain but could be called upon to help lost children find their way home, and tanuki who looked so jolly but would trick unwary people into parting with their food and wine with piles of money that turned out to be leaves come morning.

“Mom used to tell me stories.” He weighed his words, almost afraid to voice them but knowing that he must. “But they were just bedtime stories, Kisuke.  Fairy tales. Nothing more.”

Kisuke looked at him, gray eyes bright and focused, and Ichigo could feel a flush creeping along his skin.  Of course, now he was interesting enough to pay attention to, but for all the wrong reasons. Again.

“Don’t give me that look,” he snapped, and the blond blinked, slowly.

“What look is that, Kurosaki-kun?”

Ichigo counted to ten.  Twice. He didn’t believe that Kisuke was nearly as oblivious as he pretended, but if he insisted, the redhead would play along.

“The ‘oh look, a new experiment’ look.  It reminds me of Kurotsuchi-taicho, and trust me, you wouldn’t look nearly as good in that make-up.”

Thin pink lips quirked into a sly smile, and Kisuke chuckled. “I might surprise you, Kurosaki-kun. Who do you think brought Mayuri-san his supplies when he was still in the Maggot’s Nest? Plus, I ran more than my fair share of honey-pot missions for the Onmitsukido. A steady hand with an eyeliner pencil and a good lipstick go a long way.”

The flirtatious tone fell flat, and Ichigo sighed, more frustrated than flustered for once. How did they always end up like this—snarking at each other but never actually saying anything?  It was exhausting, and he didn’t have the patience for it today.

“You keep telling yourself that, Hat-and-clogs.” Ichigo picked up the two spheres and held them, one in each hand, between them. “Right now, I’m more concerned about these.”

Kisuke’s teasing smile faded.  “Yoruichi might be able to give us some insight, and there’s a tanuki that visits the shōten occasionally that I could…”

“A tanuki?” Ichigo practically exploded. “You can’t actually mean a real tanuki?  With the huge…?” he spread his fingers, unable to finish the thought.

“Testicles?” Kisuke finished the question for him, smirk back in full force. “I haven’t asked to see them, but yes I would assume so. I’ve done more than a few favors for him over the past hundred years, so he owes me, but tanuki and kitsune don’t get along very well from what I can tell.”

Ichigo frowned.

“It shouldn’t be a problem as long as Hakuzosu isn’t here, though, right?” There wasn’t another kitsune in the equation.

Kisuke took the larger sphere from his fingers and moved it slowly, watching the glimmer brighten the closer it got to Ichigo’s hand, “Well, that depends.”

Ichigo allowed the blond to drop the now glowing ball into his palm and was surprised by the rush of pleasure he got from holding it. There was something so right about it, and that was definitely not right. “Depends on what?”

The older man watched him for a long moment, a hint of fascination and curiosity and maybe even a little fear in his eyes, and Ichigo couldn’t look away, wanting nothing more than to have Kisuke look at him forever, the feelings of frustration washed away by a tide of something much more potent. His breath caught in his throat and his heart beat faster as he silently cursed his stupid attraction. This was so not the time.

“It depends on how much kitsune blood you’ve got flowing through your veins, Kurosaki-kun, and how the appearance of your long-lost relative has affected it.”

Ichigo groaned and dropped his hands to the tabletop with a thud. “I knew that was what you were going to say.”

The star ball glowed brighter and Ichigo tightened his fist around it.

“Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any more complicated, I have to deal with a freaking yokai. I swear, if Hakuzosu shows up and tries anything I’m going to kick his ass, kitsune or not.”

“Be careful, Kurosaki-kun,” Kisuke was still watching him so closely it made his skin prickle. “You don’t want to get on the wrong side of a yokai. They are far from harmless.”

“Kisuke,” Ichigo said, sitting back up in his chair and looking across at the blond in disbelief, “nothing in my life has ever been harmless, and none of us would have survived if I’d played by the rules.  Why should this be any different?”

The blond looked at him with an air of something approaching satisfaction.  “Why indeed?”

Once again, he had the full weight of Kisuke’s attention on him, and instead of the butterflies that usually took up residence in his stomach when that happened, he felt a lead weight.  He wasn’t a side-show attraction, dammit. Not even for him.

He held out his empty hand and Kisuke dropped the second ball in it.

“So,” Ichigo pulled in a deep breath, “you said you knew someone who might be able to help?”

Kisuke cocked his head to one side, like he was listening to a voice that was only speaking to him, and then nodded in agreement.  “Yes.  Shibaemon is easy enough to find.  I’ll contact Yoruichi and we will track him down and see if we can’t come to an arrangement.” The blond sighed. “Last time the two of them were together they drank all the sake in three bars.  Hopefully this time will not break that record.”

Knowing Kisuke he wasn’t nearly as innocent in that story as he pretended.   Ichigo wished he’d been there.  A tipsy Kisuke was a sight to see.

“Let me know if you need me there.  I don’t want to just tag along and have your tanuki friend—fuck, I can’t believe we’re talking about real tanuki.” He forced himself to calm down. “I don’t want to show up and have him upset over some possibly real connection to kitsune.”

Kisuke agreed. “Like I said, he’s nice enough most of the time, but he is a yokai, and they’re…  unpredictable.”

Ichigo snorted.  “The fact that you think he is unpredictable is the best warning you could give me.”

Suddenly a yawn cracked the redhead’s jaws. He was exhausted.

“I need to head home.  Yuzu was already upset enough with me for not managing to drag Hakuzosu back to the house to visit.  She’ll kill me if I’m late for dinner.”

Kisuke reached across the table and rested one long, thin finger on Ichigo’s arm.  “If I may,” he started, speaking in that casual manner that means listen carefully because something significant is NOT being said, “Kurosaki-kun, it might be best if you kept your new trinket in a…  safe place.  I’d be happy to provide such a place—Tessai could even put a kidō trap on it to be extra cautious.”

Any other time Ichigo would have taken him up on the offer.  Any other time the warmth of that finger would have burned his skin and given him fodder for weeks’ worth of daydreams.  Why, then, did the idea of turning his trinket over for someone else’s safe keeping make him feel like he couldn’t catch his breath and like snakes were squirming in his belly?

Ichigo’s fingers tightened inexorably around the supposed star balls and he shoved them deep into his pockets and leaned back in his chair. He’d think about those feelings later.  Much, much later.

“Nah, that’s okay. Yuzu will want Mom’s back ASAP, and I’ll just keep the other one with me.  No need to put Tessai out over something like this. It’s just a shiny stone.” He gave a careless shrug that fooled neither of them.

Kisuke retreated into the shadow of his hat’s brim.  “And if it is more, Kurosaki-kun?”

Ichigo’s fingers were still tightly wrapped around the now egg sized sphere and he gave an almost Gin-like smile.

“Hakuzosu said he’d be around, and if he is a kitsune like you suspect, and this is a hoshi no tama—mine or his—well, it’s probably better if I don’t have to break through a kidō lock to get it if I need it.  You know how Tessai hates it when I make a mess of the shop.”

[our-smooty]

Wilting Roses

Fandom: Good Omens

Rating: Teen

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley

Tags: Pining, Mutual Pining, Bad coping mechanisms, Drinking, Love Confessions

Summary: No one, if asked to describe Anthony J Crowley, would use the word patient. Flash maybe, flamboyant for sure, possibly even mischievous. But not patient. Crowley was the type of person to honk his horn one second after the light turned green, the type to roll his eyes when the person in front of him at the coffee shop dared to order something more complicated than the bare basics. He was always moving, swaying, fidgeting with something or other and anyone who knew him knew that.

No one, if asked to describe Anthony J Crowley, would use the word patient. Flash maybe, flamboyant for sure, possibly even mischievous. But not patient. Crowley was the type of person to honk his horn one second after the light turned green, the type to roll his eyes when the person in front of him at the coffee shop dared to order something more complicated than the bare basics. He was always moving, swaying, fidgeting with something or other and anyone who knew him knew that.

Not that there were many people who really knew him. The other demons in Hell knew him in the vaguest sense, like co-workers who’ve worked in different departments for 6000 years. Oh sure some of them felt they knew him, had him figured out, but that was all based on what Crowley wanted them to think. He submitted reports that were more lie than truth--which really, they should have expected as he was a demon--and carefully cultivated his persona as a confident, irreverent bastard and Hell fell for it.

No the only person who knew him well enough to speak on his actual personality was the angel. Not at first, in the beginning, but after a few thousand years one could say Aziraphale knew the demon better than anyone else and even he would have described Crowley as impatient. He was always speeding around London, trying to get where they were going as fast as possible. He watched Crowley, time and time again, drink his tea or coffee before it was cooled enough, burning his tongue. More than once Aziraphale had had to ask him to “settle down, dear boy, you look like you’re going to crawl out of your skin!”.

So he probably would have called Crowley patient either. But that wasn’t entirely true. In fact, Crowley may have been the most patient creature on God’s green earth. Because for 6000 years he’d been waiting, and pulling back, and reigning himself in. It was only natural that after all that time, things would spill over eventually, wasn’t it?

Crowley and Aziraphale were, as was usual for any given night of the week, sharing a bottle of wine in the backroom of the bookshop. They’d had dinner, and spent most of the morning going through the new books Adam had added to the shelves. Crowley had found a kids corner--that certainly hadn’t been there before-- in the back west bit of the shop and had spent hours teasing Aziraphale over the cutsie tiny chairs and shelves.

The wine was good and the company even better. Aziraphale wasn’t drunk yet, but Crowley was well on his way, his glass barely half empty before he was refilling it. There was a brittleness to the demon, a nervousness that was unwarranted based on the relaxed day they had had together that hadn’t been there when he was sober. It was only six months after The End that Wasn’t, so Aziraphale could understand some of the skittishness, but it was entirely out of character for the normally confident Crowley.

Aziraphale loved Crowley’s confidence. He loved Crowley, period. He just hadn’t admitted it to himself until quite recently. After the bombing in WWII he’d felt love so strong for the demon that it hadn’t been possible to ignore it anymore. But, honestly, he’d probably loved Crowley since the beginning, when he’d spoken to him and joked with him in a way nobody ever had. Which made it all the worse that they could never be together.

Because just thinking about what Hell would do to the demon if they found out was enough to put him off eating for weeks.

So it was understandable that Crowley’s discomfort was upsetting to Aziraphale. “You seem unsettled,” he observed, watching as Crowley filled his glass once again. “Is there something on your mind?”

“Noooo,” Crowley said, his voice going high-pitched as he lied. “Nothing at all, angel!”

“Are you sure?” Aziraphale cast a glance to the bottles on the table. “You’ve had quite a lot to drink.”

“S’not that much,” Crowley snarked, gesturing with the cup. Not a drop spilled, but Aziraphale knew that after a few more Crowley would forget to be so careful.

“Those are three of my best bottles from 1920.” Crowley leaned in and actually looked at the bottle, raising an eyebrow and nodding.

“You’ve got me there,” the demon admitted guiltily. “Ssstill doesn’t mean anythings wrong.”

The thing was, Aziraphale remembered a lot of other times that had been just like this. Times when Crowley would get skittish and cranky for no discernible reason. They were often followed by long periods of silence where he wouldn’t hear a peep from him. Sometimes for decades. Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he could handle not seeing the demon for 20 years, not after what they’d been through.

“Oh really, dear. I think I know you better than that!”  Crowley laughed hoarsely and Aziraphale was reminded of Nanny Ashtoreth, with her sharp wit and dry humour.

“Ssure you do, angel,” he rasped, voice rough with alcohol and something else Aziraphale couldn’t pin down. “Cause you’re sso clever. Nothing gets passt you, does it?”

Aziraphale might not be the quickest when it came to sarcasm, but Crowley was exceptionally drunk and very obvious. “I feel like you don’t really mean that, dear. Is there something I’ve missed?”

Crowley lept up unsteadily to pace the backroom floor. He only stopped when he nearly toppled one of the angels’ “to read” piles. “You can’t not know. Everything I’ve done… ssso many yearsss--”

Of course Aziraphale knew, wanted, and dreamed, but he never allowed himself to hope. “Whatever it is, I apologize for it, Crowley. You must know I’d never hurt you on purpose.”

But that just made Crowley more agitated. “Oh of coursess. Because the angel would never, could never, do anything not angelic!”

“You aren’t making any sense!” Aziraphale shouted, getting frustrated. “If you would just tell me--!”

“You sshould already know!”

Silence followed the ringing intensity of Crowley’s voice, only broken by the demon’s heavy breathing. Aziraphale gaped at the other; Crowley had never, not once in 6000 years, raised his voice at him. The demon was more the kind to get quiet when he was angry, to hiss and snap instead of yelling. Though apparently, Aziraphale had been wrong, and when pressed, Crowley could explode just like anyone else.

“You alwayss pull away and I--I accepted that ‘caussse I know I’m too--I’m too much,” Crowley hissed, his hands coming up and gripping at his own hair. “I thought I could--thingss could stay the sssssame but--”

It was all Aziraphale needed to hear, for him to finally admit he was being a coward and ignoring the obvious. Yes, he had hurt Crowley again and again and he knew it, had been lying to himself. Because an angel couldn’t possibly cause that much pain to a creature of God, even if he was a demon. That didn’t seem to matter because Aziraphale had been so busy denying his feelings and trying to be the perfect angel, that he’d been hurting Crowley for nearly 6000 years.

“I can’t--I tried and it’ss been ssssix months--but I can’t angel,” Croley sobbed into his own knees. Not 10 minutes ago they’d been chatting about visiting Adam, and the Them in Tadfield next month. Crowley had seemed tense but Aziraphale would have never guessed this deep of a hurt was hidden within his friend. Now he knew.

“I’m g-going. I wanted to tell you--if you need me. You can call and I’ll come but I’m going, Aziraphale.”

The angel’s breath caught in his chest. Where would Crowley go? America, or somewhere farther? The thought of Crowley floating through Alpha Century alone and lost was piercing.

“Crowley,” he started, his voice shaking, “ Oh Crowley I’ve been so cruel to you.” He stood and walked the few meters over to stand in front of the demon. He was still wearing his glasses, though he’d shed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his button-down. Aziraphale was, as usual, still properly dressed, though his tie was loose. Now, he fiddled with that hanging fabric as he tried to compose himself.

Crowley, in the meantime, was already refuting the angel’s statement. “No, no it’sss nothing I don’t deserve. I jussst can’t…” Crowley shied away, physically leaning backward to create distance while his drunken legs stayed put.

“No, no. Dearest Crowley, will you please sober up so I know you will remember this?” Crowley shuddered and some of the bottles refilled, though not fully. Aziraphale knew Crowley was probably still intoxicated, but not to the point of blacking out. It would have to do.

“Don’t make this harder, angel,” Crowley rasped, clutching at his shirt just above his heart. “Let me go, please.”

And if Aziraphale was less greedy, he might have. But he always had been a bit of a bastard who couldn’t let go of the things that were his. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been so blind, so selfish. If you never forgive me I’ll understand but I want you to know that you are the most important thing in my life and that I will do everything in my power to make the last 6000 years up to you.”

He wasn’t sure how he expected Crowley to react, but complete silence was definitely not one of the options he’d imagined. A sharp come back, or tears even; Crowley was always prone to emotional reactions. But this quiet Crowley was new and very, very still. So Aziraphale decided it was his turn to take the first step.

Slowly, so the demon could see his every move and pull away if needed, the angel reached out. As carefully as he could he used soft fingers to unclench Crowley’s own from his shirt and hold them Aziraphale’s chest. With strength far beyond what his corporation would have had if he was human, he hauled Crowley up into a standing position. Crowley watched each movement with wide yellow eyes hidden behind tinted glass.

“I remember how, in the Garden, you spoke to me with such kindness, unlike anyone else ever had. And then, in Paris, and the Blitz, you saved me and I trampled on your feelings like… like they were nothing. You asked for the Holy water and I left you without even asking why you really wanted it, then when I did give it to you I accused you of moving too fast. Crowley, I’ve been stringing you along for millennia, abusing your kindness and taking.”

They were closer now, though Crowley was still looking away. Aziraphale used one hand to gently guide the demon’s chin to face him. Their eyes met and Aziraphale wasn’t surprised to see a distinct wetness in Crowley’s. “I’d like to give you something this time. I don’t know if it will make up for so many years but--”

“Stop talking and kiss me, angel,” Crowley snapped, though his tone was breathy. Though his nerves were frayed, Aziraphale couldn’t stand to make the other wait any longer, so he closed the gap between them, slanting his own lips over Crowley’s and swallowing the whimper that escaped the demon.

Incredibly soft, and a little cool, and--Azirphale’s mind was spinning as he tried to catalogue every minute detail about the scene. Crowley pulled his hands from the angel’s grasp and Aziraphale was about to pull away when they returned to clutch at his back. The demon continued to make small, wounded noises as Aziraphale sucked on his bottom lip. Crowley tasted like wine and something smokey. It was lovely and the angel couldn’t help himself. He just had to dip his tongue inside to get a better taste.

“Aziraphale…” Crowley moaned, his knees going weak which forced him to hold onto the angel for dear life. “Ngh.”

“Oh, terribly sorry dearest. Let's just move you to the settee, there you go,” Aziraphale fussed, practically dragging Crowley onto the furniture. Not that the demon was resisting, he was as boneless as his snake form suggested. He let himself be draped over one side of the settee, then arranged into position as Aziraphale got comfortable. The angel was seated as closely as possible, an arm draped over the demon’s knees with the other playing in his auburn hair.  

“Is that better?” he asked lowly, his lips close the Crowley’s ear. The demon shivered, goosebumps breaking out over his skin at their closeness. Aziraphale admired the reaction with a fond smile. “Lovely.”

Crowley flipped so his head fell under the angel’s chin, his legs interlocking with the others. “Is this a dream?”

A soft, slightly sad chuckle. “No dear, it isn’t. I’m very much here with you, and I’m not leaving.”

“S’a really real dream,” Crowley mumbled, drifting off. Aziraphale would argue with him about the realness of reality when he woke up. He may be more willing to hear the angel out after getting a good rest.

If Aziraphale had expected it to be easy to undo 6000 years of rejection and distance, he had been extremely niave. Crowley still had a tendency to distance himself, like a defence mechanism against a thousand past hurts. Aziraphale went out of his way to show his love explicitly, to care for and pamper him at every opportunity. But it didn’t seem to be enough.

Within just a few days of their mutual sharing of feelings, Crowley began to close himself off again, to hide behind snark and self-deprecating humour. He still let Aziraphale hold him, spoil him with praise and presents. But he never reached back, didn’t ask for or give affection unless Aziraphale moved first. Like he was still scared he’d be rejected. Which, considering the way Aziraphale had treated him in the past, was an extremely concern valid.

At first, the angel had thought Crowley wanted space. But then he’d noticed how content the demon seemed when Aziraphale put an arm around him on the street or tucked a strand of hair behind his ear when they were reading together. He definitely wanted the attention, but he seemed unable to reciprocate, even if sometimes the angel caught Crowley with a look like he wanted to so badly.

But how to bring it up? Aziraphale hadn’t wanted to just spring it on the other, but it wasn’t like Crowley was going to say anything. He was stuck. So as usual, when he had a problem he couldn’t solve, he turned to reading, fretting, and snacking. Which worked for a little bit before he remembered the way Crowley always kept at least a foot of space between them unless Aziraphale closed the gap. Then he was back at square one.

That pattern could have gone on for quite some time, had Crowley not begun to put even more distance between them. That one-foot gap became two, then three, and then it was almost like that night a week ago hadn’t happened. Crowley kept his distance much more firmly than in the beginning, to the point where Aziraphale could barely get close enough to hold hands without a mad dash. And when he did get the chance to hold the demon, he always made this tiny sound, a sad sigh that sounded like relief. That was when the angel knew he had to say something.

The time came one night while they were, for once, at Crowley’s flat having a glass of wine. Aziraphale had stopped by unannounced, though he knew that didn’t matter. Crowley invited him in with only token protests again as usual and Aziraphale had procured them a bottle of Bordeaux and two glasses.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure, Angel?”  he’d asked, draping himself over one of the austere chairs in his equally austere livingroom. Tension rippled through every part of his being, his aura a spikey, sickly grey. Aziraphale noted the lack of a sofa or any seating that would allow them to be close with a soft sigh.

“Just thought I’d pop in. I found this lovely vintage on one of the back shelves of my cellar and I knew you’d appreciate it.” Deciding to get to the bottom of this once and for all, Aziraphale walked around behind Crowley’s chair and leaned in close. “Do you remember that year, darling?”

Crowley squinted at the bottle, his shoulders mildly tensed from their suddenly close proximity. “1959, you spoil me, angel.”

“You deserve only the best, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured, letting the bottle fall carefully into the demon’s lap.

“Hm?” Crowley asked as Aziraphale leaned down, nuzzling against firey hair. As usual, Crowley didn’t shy away from the touch, but there was that little sigh like he’d been waiting. Aziraphale tightened his hold around the demon’s shoulders guiltily. He really should be taking better care of him.

“I’ve missed you, dearest,” Aziraphale hummed, stretching over to kiss Crowley’s forehead. Crowley frowned in confusion and twisted around to look the angel in the eye.

“You saw me yesterday, not even 24 hours ago,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. A few more soft kisses and Aziraphale pulled back, setting the bottle of wine on a side table. He knew he was making Crowley uncomfortable; the demon never did like not knowing what was about to happen. Better to get things done quickly, and avoid any undue stress.

“I did, but I always miss you when you’re away from me. Besides, you know that isn’t what I meant.” Crowley’s face furrowed in confusion, so maybe he didn’t. “You’ve been--Am I overwhelming you, Crowley? It’s just you’ve been distant…”

“No!” Crowley interjected, immediately twisting around to fully face Aziraphale. “No, no, angel it’s not that, I swear.”

Aziraphale let out a relieved sigh of his own. “Oh good, I was quite worried.” He rewarded Crowley’s honesty with a soft kiss on the lips. “Will you tell me what the problem really is? I hate that you--I want you to be comfortable with me.”

Crowley tried to lean into the kiss, encouraging it to turn into something needier. But Aziraphale held firm, pulling back and waiting for Crowley to answer. It was harder than expected--once he started kissing Crowley it was nearly impossible to stop--but he managed for the greater good of their relationship.

Initially, Crowley mumbled his answer so badly Aziraphale couldn’t understand a word of it. With a raised eyebrow and a gentle squeeze around the shoulders, he encouraged the demon to try again. “I didn’t--I don’t want to move to fast for you. I know I’m a lot and that you don’t really... Well, I know you don’t want me all over you all the time so I thought it’d be better like this.”

Aziraphale was shocked; where had Crowley gotten that idea? You go too fast for me. Oh well, maybe this was the angel’s fault, even if he’d never meant for it to happen.

“Love, that was over 40 years ago. And I should have never--well the blame is entirely on me for this it would seem.” With cautious movements, Aziraphale walked around to stand in front of the chair, facing Crowley head-on. “I should apologize for not making my intentions clear, for not just bloody talking about it!.”

Crowley continued to stare at the floor as Aziraphale continued. “You do not go too fast for me Crowley. Well, you do when you’re driving but not in that other way.” Bending down to rest his palms on Crowley’s knees, Aziraphale made sure to catch his gaze. “I was scared of what Heaven and Hell might do, but not anymore. We don’t have to be afraid anymore, dearest.”

But Crowley was shaking his head, his golden eyes darting away and around the room. “I don’t know how! So many years, sso many times you said--Not that I blame you--”

“Love, you’ve been so patient,” Aziraphale praised, his smile cutting off the other’s tirade. He took one of his hands and used it to cup Crowley’s cheek, cradling it reverently. “You deserve to get what you’ve been wanting all these years. I want to give that to you.”

Cautiously, his eyes still averted, Crowley reached out and placed his hand on Aziraphale’s cheek, mirroring the angel’s position. It was the first time the demon had touched him since that initial night. “This’s stupid, I’m sstupid!” Aziraphale noticed his lover’s eyes were damp, and his lip caught between sharp teeth. Obviously, Crowley’s distress was more intense than he’s realized.

“You’re lovely, and so, so good,” he whispered, nuzzling against the hand on his cheek. “I want to spend every day for all eternity holding you and having you hold me.”

Crowley’s hand was trembling, but he didn’t remove it. He actually seemed to lean closer towards Aziraphale’s warmth. “M’still…” The angel let him struggle for a second before making a suggestion.

“Worried, relieved, scared?” he offered, unsurprised by Crowley’s shocked glance. “Me too love. I’m absolutely petrified.”

That got Crowley to laugh a little as he finally--finalyl!--brought his other hand up to pull the angel into a sweet embrace. Aziraphale couldn’t have felt more proud of his brave demon. Crowley always had been one to take risks, which just showed how much he cared for his relationship with Aziraphale. He’s been so cautious, so gentle, so patient for 6000 long years.

“Just in case I haven’t been clear enough,” Aziraphale muttered into Crowley’s hair, “you can touch me whenever you like and I will always enjoy it darling.”

“Ngk,” Crowley said, burrowing his face into the lapels of the angel’s coat so the angel couldn’t see his blush. “Don’t jusst say that!”

Aziraphale laughed, high and bright and he switched to holding his demon around the waist. He could feel the despair and isolation bleeding from Crowley’s aura, replaced with contentment and peace. Not to mention the elation the angel felt at having Crowley reciprocate his affections. The plants in the next room over began to bloom and grow at a rate never before seen on earth.

“You know I can’t lie to you Crowley.” That just made the demon squirm more. Impulsively, Aziraphale stood up and put his knees beside Crowley’s, sitting in his lover’s lap. Crowley grunted in surprise but kept his hold on Aziraphale’s shoulders. “I’m not too heavy, am I?”

“You’re perfect, Aziraphale,” Crowley answered, his voice muffled by layers of clothing. Aziraphale settled in more, getting comfortable for what he hoped would turn into a nice, long cuddle. The red wine he’d brought over could sit out for a while without any harm. And Crowley seemed to agree because he sighed, this time with happiness. It would be nice, for once in 6000 years, to have nothing to do other than enjoy each other's company.

And when they did go to visit Tadfield, if, in the middle of a tea party consisting of a variety of beings and types of people, Crowley took Azirapahle’s hand in his as easy as breathing? Well, Aziraphale could blame his misty-eyed smile on the absolutely delicious biscuits and jam.

[jaydraws-tings]

Peppermint Smiles~ DathiDeWildcat

David was in love. Even though he denied it and swore at the ground below to the heavens above, he knew the truth. The thing was that, he didn't want to be. Despite looking for companionship and even a relationship, the thought of this one terrified him. Not because of the fact that he was in love itself, but because it was with someone so close to him. Someone he couldn’t stand the thought of losing.

 David knew when it came to love he was pretty intense. He gave his all in each and every one of his relationships. He blindly trusted, and it caused him to follow carelessly. When the eventually crash of their relationship would come it would tear him apart. Much more than he would ever like to admit.  He’d always smile and wave away the concern brought by others. He’d always be happy for both sides of the party. The only person who had ever seen his true feelings and how torn up he could get about his relationships was his friend. Despite being hard headed and always being kind of mean, Tyler would help David when he got to those low points. He was his comfort. His happiness. He was the one he was truly fearing to love and lose.

  The thought of professing his love to Tyler and the unknown events after made David petrified. The thought of losing Ty was even worse. Even then David knew he didn’t stand a chance. What would Tyler want with a guy like him? He had a future. Football, college, a girlfriend or boyfriend to fit his needs. David? David was a nobody. A clutz whose only good use was for laughs. An irish transfer student who truthfully had no right being friends with Tylers crew. So it was no surprise when Tyler admitted his feelings for their friend Craig.

  David was close with Craig. Craig being a british transfer as well and sharing a lot of interests with David. They got along. He could rely on Craig for a lot. David was devastated at the news, but he smiled and choked down the tears for the sake of his friends. Tyler’s happiness was his happiness right? As the days went by and Tyler started going around Craig and talking with him more, David could feel the heavy pit in his stomach start to tighten. He knew that the two were a good match for each other. David was happy they both could find someone to keep them happy. So he would plan out how Tyler would ask out Craig. Tyler would say he’d need more time and leave David right then and there. It’d hurt David but he’d take it and laugh it off with his other friends. He loved them both too much, so he let it go.

    David wasn’t paying attention as he walked through the crowded halls of his high school. His mind swirled with unsteady thoughts that clouded his thinking. A mild frown tugged at his pale lips as he finally made it to his locker. Another saddening thought flit across his mind causing him to sigh. At that moment someone made a grab for the males arms causing him to yelp.

  “Jesus Nogla! What the hell?” David’s eyes were part way closed from the startle. He had put his hands up in fear of getting pushed or something. When he opened his eyes crystal blue orbs stared at him in confusion and a bit of shock. “I’ve been calling you for the past 5 minutes. You just ignored me and walked by. What the hell is up with you today?” David’s eyes widened and he stood straight. He coughed gently and fixed his glasses on his pale face. A warm blush started to rise already. “I didn’t hear ye. I was thinking.” Tyler raised an eyebrow at his irish friend, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Oh?” A smirk found a way on his lips. “About what to ignore me like that?” David rolled his eyes and a grin found its way up. “About when your gonna ask out Craig Piggy.”

  Tyler blushed and quickly looked away from David. “Shut up man. I need more time.” David groaned and put up his backpack in the forgotten locker. “It’s been what a month already? I thought you were all brave Tyler.” A shaky grin found its way on David’s face. Tyler grumbled something under his breath and sighed. “Whatever Nogla. Come on let's get to moving. The guys are waiting for us outside.” David looked over at his friend in confusion. “For what?” Tyler looked at David as if he had grown two heads. “To go to that cafe Delirious has been babbling on about. And where YOU are going to sing.” Realization dawned over Tyler’s face. “You forgot didn’t you?”

 David grinned nervously at his friend showing his guilt. Tyler’s face morphed into half amazement and amusement. “Oh dear god David. What the hell.” Tyler grabbed David and pulled him closer. “How the hell did you forget!” David blushed at the new closeness, only to realize much to his sadness that Tyler was just pulling him behind. “I don’t know? Too much to think about?” David chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

 To be truthful, there really was too much for the boy to think about. His crush, friends, school, time, it wasn’t a surprise he forgot about it. Not that Ty would understand. David’s expression once again morphed into one of thoughtfulness. Tyler took notice, his blue eyes watching the male closely.

 Tyler noticed the distance David was putting between the two the day it started. He noticed the boys quietness and lack of wanting to speak to him. The tired look that morphed over his face. He honestly had no idea how the boy was doing. After his ‘confession’ David had been more distant. Tyler just about face palmed at the failed attempt to reciprocate his feelings. To be honest he didn’t mind Craig. He was a friend of both David and Tylers. He was a funny dude, and Tyler could always be calmed by the brits sense of humor and general personality. However, he wasn’t the person Tyler had a crush on. No of course not. Craig while a good guy wasn’t Tyler’s type. No his ‘type’ was the idiot he was pulling behind him. He was a charming, funny, and just overall kind person. David did a lot for his friends and never really asked for his care back. That’s why the Irish fool had attracted Tyler in the first place.   

  Tyler sighed softly to himself. His friend was pulling away and he had no idea why. It scared him. He had seen David do the same months earlier. He had broken up with his ex-girlfriend at the time and tried to play it off. He blew off the boys every time they wanted to hang out and started to stay by himself. One day Tyler finally saw the truth. He watched his friend break down into tears. Alone. David didn’t deserve that. He didn't deserve going through all of that stress and sadness alone. Despite expressing that he didn't want to trouble anyone. He didn't want to be a bother. Tyler stayed by his side day by day after. The need to comfort David was overwhelming despite Tylers brash nature. He needed to protect David and show him that he deserved love. And he did. Even though he tried his best to limit them to friends only, it didn't work. Tyler falling for David seemed inevitable. But looking back at his friend, Tyler didn't regret it one bit  

  Tyler watched David eventually come out of his thoughts and force a smile. One of many he had been giving the male lately. The once shiny brown eyes seemed duller. His bright and cheerful grin seemed dull and unnatural. Not at all the smile that had made Tyler's day just a month ago.

 David was quirky in his own way, but that's why people loved him. He was a true friend. And he did genuinely care for people. Despite what everyone else thought, he was brilliant. Something Tyler discovered during his time with the Irish male. He would play dumb but, truthfully he was one of them much smarter ones of the group. Even though he was really clueless sometimes.It concerned Tyler with how careless David had been getting. One more item of concern for Tyler to mule over.

     Both boys snapped out of their thoughts when the sight of their friends came up. Tyler's attitude had dropped from his usual cocky and prideful persona to a more quiet thoughtfulness. David's usual grin wasn't on his face, instead a more withdrawn and distant look crossed his face behind a plastic looking smile. Their duo was a mess Craig had decided when he saw them.

  While Craig may play the clueless character sometimes, he was really aware of people and their emotions. So when Tyler had first come to him about David he wasn’t surprised. The two had been inseparable after Tyler first found David.It was obvious to everyone asides from themselves that they liked each other. The day Tyler messed up his confession was the day Craig had decided to officially help tyler win his man. Though apparently his constant presence around Tyler seemed to be doing more damage than good.  So when Tyler started to walk towards Craig without even thinking about the male he had left behind, Craig got slightly anxious at the subtle shift in David’s shoulders. The way the male obviously tried to ignore the two. Brian helped play as a distraction for David but Craig knew it wouldn't hold long.

   “Tyler you ready for tonight?” The blond looked up at the giant with determination. Tyler shifted nervously rubbing his arms. “No. Honestly. I feel stupid.” Craig crossed his arms and huffed with a glare. “Well if you wouldn’t of had messed up we wouldn't be here in the first place right?” Tyler glared at Mini and opened his mouth, but after a second he closed it and sighed annoyed. The brit grinned up at his friend and pat his shoulder. “Don’t worry it’ll go good. Everyone’s helping and we’re making sure you don’t screw up.” Craig leaned back on his heels thinking over the plan they had made.

   Tonight would be the night Tyler finally confessed truthfully and correctly. After David would sing, Tyler would go up, sing his song for David, and walk down and directly confess to him. Del and Evan had made sure to get the owner to close down the cafe so it’d only be the boys and a few employees. David and Ty would kiss and the end! Now they only had to pull it off.

  Craig grinned up at Tyler and found himself excited. Tonight would be a good night he decided.

 Evan’s text that he was there to pick them up buzzed from Craig’s phone. The grin spread even wider on his face despite how impossible that seemed. He gathered everyone up and they headed out to the cafe. Two cars were needed to take the group going with them. In total Evan, Del, Craig, Tyler, David, Brian, and Marcel were leaving with them. The plans were set in stone so the only thing needed was the execution. Craig had gotten into Evans car with David and Tyler in the backseat. David’s distant look concerned the brit so he grabbed his attention by asking what music they should listen to. He kept his attention the whole drive. He laughed and joked with David who seemed to open up every second they got farther from the school. He danced and sang and tried his best to have fun. David eventually was acting more like himself than he had for the past three weeks. The grin on his face while gentle spoke more than David could ever had put to words. The gleam that had returned to his gentle brown eyes warmed Craigs heart.

   When they had finally reached their destination Craig noticed the darker sky above. He grabbed David’s hand and motioned for the other two to follow after them as he practically dragged David after him. David yelped and struggled to keep up with the excited male.

   He had started feeling happier during the drive to the cafe. Craig helped him forget a lot of his worries and made him feel normal again. David wasn't sure what he was going to do for a song, however after a time he had an idea. Though it could compromise him and his feelings, he felt as though it would help him. Relieve him of how he felt. Maybe Tyler would understand? Probably not though.

 David was afraid but determined to make it through the night. Even if it was hard. The knot of anxiety seemed to harden the more they approached the cafe. Once they were in front of it however, he felt almost relieved at how small it was. Del was already waiting with the others. No doubt the males haphazard driving had them beat. David grinned at his friends excitedly.

 “You ready to perform Nogla?” The question was innocent, but David felt almost challenged by the knowing stare Evan seemed to give him. “Yeah. I'm ready to go.” Despite it feeling as though David was running into a final boss fight with low health and no healing items at all, he felt prepared for the song he would sing. It would be his best for sure. The song meant a lot to him, especially now of all times. If he could tell Tyler how he felt in any way, he hoped this song would be it.

The boys waited anxiously. They jumped at the opportunity for coffee and food. They waited patiently for instruments to be tuned and games to be played. Craig glanced over at Tyler with a cocked eyebrow and a grin to help calm him. Or was it Craig who needed to be calmed? Ever since they had first driven up to the cafe Craig’s nerves had been on fire. He did not want Tyler to mess this up. It was almost like Craig was the one confessing not Tyler. The thought made the Brit grin despite his worry. David seemed to be taking his time with tuning the guitar provided to him. He seemed deep in thought, but instead of sad he seemed almost determined. It was like he was getting ready for something. Craig felt excitement burn in his chest at the thought of David being the one to pull a sneak and confess first, but from the way the males eyes seemed to drift over to Craig and Tyler it wouldn’t seem that way. Craig would only have to wait for what the male would do. Craig’s suspicions would soon be cleared as David had no sooner than stood up and lifted the guitar up to his chest.

 The chattering of his friends fell silent. David felt happy for some reason. And scared. This was one of the first times he had ever sang in front of his friends. Evan and Craig being the only ones who had ever really heard him sing before. The silence unnerved him. It wasn't like the boys to be this quiet. David glanced up and saw all eyes on him. His eyes carefully drifted over each and everyone of his friends faces. He saw their excitement, their apprehension, their interest, and something else. Something he couldn’t quite place. Maybe joy? No. David shook his head free of the distracting thoughts and took a deep breath. He found himself glancing over at Tyler who was staring right at him. His intense blue eyes caught David quicker than he would have thought. The shock that they sent down his spine caused him to purse his lips and straighten up.

        He steadied himself, checked his fingering and count the beats and song in his head for the third time that evening. Behind him the steady patter of rain rested against the window. The stress from the past three weeks seemed to lift off his shoulders as he took his first breath. He closed his eyes and lifted his hand up to the guitar warmly resting against him. The first strum seemed to be  the hardest, but as he played it got easier. The song flowing easier than he would have thought. It was a softer song than the boys were used to hearing. Especially a lot more gentle than they would have thought David would have played. It seemed to melt the tension in the room as the boys finally started to fully settle among themselves.

“I know you

And I know you don’t wanna stay with me right now”

The words burned in David’s chest but felt right as he reminisced on the times Tyler would leave him to go with Craig. He felt alone, but happy for Ty.

“Follow through

I took more photographs of you

Than you would ever consciously allow”

The memories of their past sleepovers and pictures David would  be able to catch of Ty unaware were some of the best memories he had. The gentle glare Tyler would give when running after him. The laughter. The smiles. The happiness and comfort they both had together.

“You think I don’t know about him”

David glanced over at Craig. He could only smile gently at his friend as he closed his eyes and looked back down.

“Just look at him

With his bright blue eyes and peppermint smiles

You can't resist”

Craig was admittedly attractive. Gentle smile, bright eyes, easy figure, but he had a natural charm around him that seemed to grasp everyone's attention and brighten peoples day. No matter what they went though. David felt himself choke up.

“I know him

And I know that he smells like bubblegum and peach

But have you heard, have you heard

Have you heard I feel like comfort in blankets

And love and safety”

“What can I do to to change your mind”

David fought back the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He tried to keep the desperation from his voice but he could feel it all coming to an end. A quick glance to Tyler proved that he seemed to be understanding a lot more than what David had initially wanted. The thought of ending the song there was terrifying to him. The thought of facing Tyler scared him but he needed to finish.

“Just look at him

With his bright blue eyes and peppermint smiles

I'll never win”

“He is bright and yellow and bubbly

While i'll stay here and disappear like this”

David tried his best to keep his voice steady. He knew the end of the song was coming. He felt so incompetent compared to Craig. He felt scared. He pushed on.

“I know me and I know I could never try to face the truth

The truth is he,the truth is he

He's a lovely boy that gives you lovely company”

David finally looked up at Tyler who’s expression was one of shock and he guessed fear. Maybe it was David’s crush. Or maybe it was the fact that David had been hiding it for so long. He felt resigned. He felt happy though too. As he looked over at Craig he saw the birts wide surprised eyes as well. He knew he had shocked them both. Too bad he wouldn't be staying long enough to hear their reactions.

“I'll stay silent and I'll wish

That I was anything like him”

David grinned as he stood up, strumming the guitar as he took a step back. A tear, than two, than more slipped down his pale cheeks.

“I wish I had bright blue eyes and peppermint smiles”

David lowered the guitar setting it on the wall beside the door.

“That you can't resist”

David stood in front of the door. His eyes scanned the shocked group of faces. Tyler was the first one to get up. “Wa-wait David!” David moved back from Tyler as he went to grab his arm. “No Tyler I, it’s ok.” David grinned at him gently as more tears fell. “I’ll be ok. I just. I’ll go.”He backed out the door. Raindrops and the smell of water came from outside, but at that moment David didn’t care about getting wet. With a rush he was gone.

 Tyler freaked out. He made a rush for the door, only for Craig to grab at his arm. Tyler turned back at him in anger. Tears rushed to his eyes as he realized what had happened. “Let me go Craig!” Craig winced and let go but he walked in front of Tyler quickly. “You running out there without anyone is stupid Tyler. What if you get hurt?” Tyler brushed off Craig quickly and made his way once again to the door, only for this time from Evan to step up. “He’s right. One person compared to all of us isn't going to help. Let us come with.” Tyler looked at the boys annoyed but decidedly resigned. He could feel his patience running thin as he once again made his way to the door, this time no one stopping him. He needed to find him.

   David wasn’t sure where he was going. He just knew that he had to leave. Go anywhere besides the cafe. Anywhere away from Tyler. He ran down the streets of the town. He stumbled and fell but only got back up to continue running. His Clothing stuck to his body and seemed to want to suffocate him. It was almost like he was drowning. It was only when David found a familiar park did he stop to rest.

   “David!” This had to have been the  100th time Tyler had screamed his name in the night air. He was worried for him. Scared about what may have happened. While groups of two had been a smart idea he only felt dragged down by Marcel who was trying his best but failing to navigate the rain. Tyler finally had enough and looked back at the oher. The guy was stumbling in the rain and muttered Tyler’s name every two seconds, so Tyler decided to do something assholish but couldn't help it. He knew he had to be the one to find David. He had to set things right. And if anything he had an idea of where he could be. Tyler backed away from Marcel before turning and sprinting down the street. Normally at the pace he was running it would have made him tired quickly but it seemed David’s disappearance had Tyler at an adrenaline rush. It took a while but Tyler could finally see familiar shops and places where he and David would frequently go. He used them to find his way through the rain to the first place Tyler and David had ever spent a real significant time together. The place where their friendship had really bloomed. Stateswell Park.

   Tyler had lived here all his life and had frequently visited Stateswell as a kid. Now as a teenager when he saw David enter the park he wondered what the hell he was up to. The park had been abandoned for being toonchildish in place of the mall or the old abandoned building up 6th street. Tyler felt compelled to follow him nonetheless. He watched David from afar. Noting the way he would go on the playground or swing on the swings. For a time David seemed to be normal, it wasn't until Tyler started getting bored and debating leaving him that he saw a shift in him. David seemed to sag under the weight of everything. He looked around to make sure no one was around to climb under one of the playground sets.

   Tyler raised an eyebrow and turned to go, only for something to stop him. He growled at himself and turned once again, making sure to be as stealthy as possible as he snuck up behind the set. There he watched David cry. He covered his face and whimpered softly. A silent sob rocked his body and made David seem to fold even closer in on himself. Tyler felt uncomfortable watching this. He itched to get away but, at the same time he wanted to hold David. He wanted to hug him. He wanted to be close. While Tyler didn’t necessarily end up doing that he did end up sitting beside David and comforting him. Even visiting David often in the little space that he had made for himself. He made sure that he was never alone when he was upset.

   The memory of that day burned bright in Tyler’s mind as he rushed into the park. He stumbled over his feet but regained his posture as he ran through the park. It wasn't until he saw a familiar swing set did he start slowing down. Even with the rush of the rain he could hear the soft sobs from behind their place.

   David was sitting with his back against the wall. His head was buried into his knees.dHe felt alone, embarrassed, afraid of his friend. He felt terrible for probably ruining a perfect night with his friends.He felt terrible for probably running his friendship with Tyler. He didn’t realize someone was beside him until a hand on his arm made him jump.

  Tyler looked down into the wide brown eyes of David. The fear that had once been in them shifted to embarrassment. “You found me.” Tyler huffed, the adrenaline finally wearing off and the exhaustion hitting him like a truck. “Of course.” He slid down the wall beside David, an uncomfortable silence stretched between them. “I. You know. What I said was.” David couldn’t put his thoughts to words. The nervousness made the male shift to look away from Tyler. The soft sigh that Tyler gave made David’s anxiety strength. “David. It’s ok.” Finally for the first time months David turned and lost control of his anger. “No it isn't!” The tears once of grief now were of frustration and anger. He glared at Tyler who looked down at him with a pitiful stare. “It isn't ok Tyler! I can't do anything with the fact that I love you! I can't control it! And i hate it! I wish I didn't love you. I wish you never found me here. I wish you would just leave me alone!” David’s voice was whiny and high pitched. Anger made him get closer to Tyler and weakly punch his chest. “I don't want to be in love with you! Why? Why?!” The sobs that broke his rant made him collapse on top of Tyler. Tyler didn't respond to the cries. He wrapped his arms around his friend and hugged him. He whispered soft nothings into David’s ear and listened to his soft sobs.

 “David I have something to tell you.” Tyler’s voice was gentle. A rare occasion for the hot head. David listened. He started to regret what he had said earlier. He kept his head to Tyler’s chest and listened to the heart beat. “Craig isn’t my crush David.” David’s breath caught in his chest as he tried to register the words muttered against his shoulder. Tyler took a shaky breath and backed up from David. He tilted his head and looked into David’s shocked eyes. “No, he doesn't compare to my actual crush.” Tyler found a grin spreading across his face. He leaned forward until his and David’s foreheads connected. Keeping their eyes connected. “David. I think I like you.” Tyler shook his head and chuckled softly to himself. “No. I love you.” The male watched David’s expression change from surprised to mortified in seconds. “I.” Tyler chuckled to himself. “It’s alright, we can talk later. Now I suggest we get back to our friends.”

  David felt happy, shocked, scared, amazed, but at the mention of their friends he realized what he had done as well. “Oh shit.” Tyler’s smile widened across his face. “I really messed up didn’t I?” A warm laugh burst from Tyler’s lips as he gripped David just a bit closer. “Yeah we really did.” David felt himself blush a deep red as Tyler leaned closer to him. “We’re idiots.” David couldn’t help the grin that found its way across his face. “Yeah. But we’re idiots together.”

-Heya! Jay here! I wanted to say how much of a pleasure it was to kind of write for this event and just have fun with it. Please go check out my partners @roguevaramiy drawings and art. They are so amazing and it was awesome to be able to work with him.

https://roguevaramiy.tumblr.com/post/185132930556/april-may-event-submission-this-is-a

And thank you so much Adryien for having so much patience with me. You never fail to amaze me. All love to you!💙

[aerynwrites]

Lucky

Gavin Reed x Reader

This was requested by @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 

Request:  First of all, I would like to thank you for writing my last request-- I love it! Secondly, congratulations on 400! You deserve it! For your celebration might I suggest 15 and/or 2 with Gavin?

Prompt:  1) “Oh, I don’t want to impose where I’m not wanted! Don’t worry about-” “You’re wanted. Very much. Please impose as much as you like.” 2) “Wanna hangout on the rooftop? It’s nice tonight.”

Warnings: none

Author’s Note: To the person who requested this...I AM SO SORRY!! I COMPLETELY SKIPPED OVER YOUR REQUEST BY ACCIDENT. pls don’t hate me. This is what i get for not tagging shit properly. AGAIN I am so sorry!! I hope you like it (even though it’s way late)! I hope you all enjoy and let me know how i did on Gavin! I don’t write for him often so i hope i capture his character well.

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To say that you had a crush on detective Gavin Reed, is an understatement. A gigantic, huge, monstrous understatement. It was the largest and most annoying crush you’ve ever had on someone and you can’t figure out why. You have been his partner for a couple years now and since time has worn on, he has become less of an asshole. To you at least. He’s still an ass to everyone else, but with you it’s different. When he’s around others he still keeps up the tough guy persona, but when its just you both at your desk or in the car, he’s a completely different person. He’s actually nice and kind, and not rude or mean. He jokes around with you and he’s even opened up to you about his personal life, something you never really expected. All these things combined into one has made your feelings for him continue to grow, and its starting to eat away at you. You know he doesn’t feel the same about you, there’s no way he could. He was the cutest guy you’ve ever met, and you were just…you, plain old officer (l/n).

You sigh and look down at the small stack of paperwork on your desk, not in the mood to do any of it. It was nearing time to go home so your motivation had gone out the window about an hour ago. You looked at Gavin sitting across from you and saw that he was still (surprisingly) working on his paperwork. 

“Hey Gav,” his head perked up at his nickname you gave him.

“What’s up?” he tosses his pen on the desk and leans back in his chair.

You look out at the clock then back to the man in front of you, “I think I’m going to head home. Call it a night.” you said grabbing your purse and jacket from the desk.

You saw his eyebrows knit together and he stood from his chair, “Already?” he looked at his watch, “I was actually going to see if you wanted to do something after work.” 

You frowned slightly, you really just wanted to go home and wallow in self pity and eat ice cream, “Not tonight Gavin, I already have plans,” you lied quietly.

His face fell, disappointment clear on his face, “Oh,” he breathed, “Well, I don’t want to impose where i’m not wanted!” he reassure, disappointment still heavy in his voice as he fiddled with some papers on his desk, “Don’t worry about-“

You cut him off, you’ve never seen him so downtrodden before, “You’re wanted.” You blurt out, “very much. Please impose as much as you like.”

Gavin looks up again uncertainty in his gaze, “Are you sure, I don’t want to-“

You smile and laugh, “Just shut up and take me wherever you wanted to take me.” You say playfully.

Gavin feels his heart skip at the sound of your laughter, unbeknownst to you, he had fallen just as hard for you as you had for him. And he couldn’t contain his feelings much longer. He smiled and grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and walked over to you.

“Wanna hangout on the rooftop? It’s nice tonight?” he asked, looking at you expectantly.

You smile, despite your confusion, “uh…Sure?” it came out more of a question than an answer.

He laughed, a loud hearty laugh, and grasped your hand pulling you to the elevator, “Come on, I know you’re a sap for this romantic shit.” 

You roll your eyes but don’t say anything, he’s not wrong after all. And if it has anything to do with the man holding your hand, you know you’ll have a good time.

------------------------------------ 

You had let Gavin lead you to the rooftop, neither of you saying much on the way up, but when you got to the top, you were breath taken. The sun was just setting, painting the sky a million different hues of oranges yellows and reds, creating a masterpiece. Gavin followed you as you near the edge of the building to get a better view and stood next to you as you took in the evening sky. But he didn’t watch the sunset, instead he was watching you. he took in how the sun made your eyes sparkle, and how the wind was ruffling your hair slightly. But most importantly he was observing how beautiful you are. You turned and looked at him suddenly, and he quickly averted his gaze, embarrassment folding him at the thought of being caught. You pretended to ignore the fact that you caught him staring and looked back into the sunset.

Gavin broke the peaceful silence, “I really like you, ya know,” he said softly, “That’s why I brought you up here.”

You snapped your head in his direction, mouth slightly agape at his confession, “What?” you whispered.

If he wasn’t standing so close to you he wouldn’t have caught it, but he sighed, he knew this was a bad idea. There was no way someone as sweet and kind as you could love an arrogant ass like him. 

“Just forget it,” he grumbled, “This was a stupid idea.” He turned to walk away but you reached out and grabbed his arm.

“Gavin wait!” you pleaded.

 He turned around to face you not quite looking at you. you grabbed his hand and felt a blush cover your cheeks, “I-I like you too,” you admit, “I have for a while now.”

At this Gavin looks up at you, searching your face for any indication that you are not serious. When he finds none, he brings his hands up to your face and brings your lips to his. Your eyes widen at the sudden movement, unable to respond right away, but you soon melt into the kiss, bringing your hands up to his cheeks. When he pulls away you let your hands fall to his shoulders and look at him, a huge grin adorning your face. 

“I never in a million years thought I would be lucky enough for this to happen,” you state.

Gavin rolls his eyes and pulls you in for a hug, “Don’t be so modest…if anyone’s lucky its me.” He assures, “You’re the one who got stuck with an asshole.”

You giggle and pull away from the hug intertwining your fingers with his, “Well, if I’m stuck with anyone, I’m glad it’s you,” you say sincerely.

 Gavin can’t help but smile as he brings you in for another kiss. 

Yep. He was definitely the lucky one. 

[thesoundofnat]

Worthy

A/N: Kind of turned into a bit of a Stony fic + a bunch of Tony being his own biggest critic. Enjoy!

[Read it on AO3]

Words: 1 562

It was strange, spending your whole life thinking one thing only to be proved wrong in your 40s. Tony wouldn’t necessarily allow something to completely change his mind just like that without a buildup or some proper facts, but this time he had to make an exception. There were godly powers at play.

He’d never claimed that his life was normal.

A regular evening, now common, with all the Avengers gathered. Drinks and food and a small celebration of whatever. The banter flowing and teasing remarks leaving everyone’s mouths. A good evening. A kind evening.

Thor’s hammer was taking up a noticeable amount of space on the floor, and the topic soon turned to it. People thinking they could lift it, even as a joke. Thor telling them they were not worthy, which Tony knew anyway. Laughter even though their prides were a bit hurt, and then, a challenge.

“I’m sure I can lift it,” Clint said, all confidence. “Let me try.”

Thor raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to ruin your back?”

“I’ve done worse.”

So Clint made a whole show out of walking up to Mjolnir, grabbing the handle real good, and proceeding to not even budge it a bit when he pulled. More laughter. Tony almost felt a little bad, but the way his smirk just dropped and got replaced by an offended frown was too much.

“It’s broken,” Clint said, tugging halfheartedly. “You need to get a new one.”

Thor turned to the others in smug satisfaction. “Anyone else wants to make a fool of themselves?”

Which was the entirely wrong thing to ask a bunch of superheroes, as they would all gladly make fools of themselves just to prove a point.

Bruce, of all people, went second. It was a suspenseful minute watching him pull the hammer hard enough to almost bring the other guy out, but in the end he too had to admit defeat. He looked even sadder than Clint had.

This was a bad idea.

Natasha refused to touch it, and Tony couldn’t blame her. What on Earth was compelling Steve to walk up to it was beyond him, and Tony reached out for his arm automatically. “Remember that this doesn’t mean anything,” he said quietly, and Steve shot him a small smile.

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you think I’m unworthy.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Tony said quickly, but Steve wouldn’t let him explain. Only walked up to that godforsaken hammer and grabbed the handle.

Steve, all pure and mighty, should’ve been able to lift it. If not for his worth, then for his strength. Or so Tony thought.

It didn’t even budge beneath his hand, and that was when Tony knew that no mortal could ever move it.

He had no idea why he even tried, really. Why he walked up to it so determined to humiliate himself like the others had. An act of solidarity? A search for the truth? To find proof of what he and the others already knew?

Steve’s fingertips brushed against his hand as he passed him, and Tony wondered if it was on purpose. Shouldn’t Tony be comforting him? Was comfort apt when you were shown just how mortal you were?

The others were cheering, for some reason. Trying to make a game out of something that caused pain, however small. Tony could appreciate that, and he gripped the handle as his confident persona took over. Smile for the audience, Tony. They don’t love you, but they can pretend. Pretend that you’re worthy of their effort.

Tony pulled hard for show, just hard enough to almost hurt his back, and promptly found himself on his back on the floor. Hammer still in his hand.

The cheering stopped, replaced by a confused silence. A stunned silence. Tony blinked up at the ceiling and glanced to his side, seeing the hammer just shy of having smashed Thor’s foot. Tony idly wondered if that would’ve hurt.

“Holy shit,” was the first reaction. Clint, as expected. He was gaping so excessively that Tony almost rolled his eyes. “You lifted it.”

Tony sat up, not sure what to do. “Apparently I did.”

“You’re the only worthy human I have met.” That was Thor, looking surprised. Then pleased. Reminding Tony of how people usually reacted when he did something truly good.

He rubbed his neck. “Maybe it is broken,” he mumbled, and Steve seemed to be the only one who had heard him if his frown was any indication.

“How did it feel?” Bruce prompted. “Was it heavy?”

“I honestly barely registered lifting it,” Tony said. “I didn’t feel a thing. Is it supposed to be that light?”

“It’s light enough to maneuver easily,” Thor replied. “But heavy enough to be able to be used as a weapon. You just expected it to not move.”

Tony accepted Nat’s hand, bringing Mjolnir with him when he stood. He held it up, away from his body as if afraid it would explode. “I like the feel of it. It’s sturdy. Steady. Like I was meant to hold it.”

“Anyone who can always has.”

His life became increasingly strange after that.

First of all, he felt as if the others looked at him funny. Wondering why he, of all people, could lift that thing. How he, of all people, could be worthy of it.

He met their gazes over breakfast, saw their eyes linger for only a few seconds too long, and averted his own. He met them in the hallways and had to endure their smiles. Smiles they’d never sent his way before.

And then he might’ve started avoiding them because he couldn’t handle how wrong the hammer could be. Even though Thor had assured him that the hammer always knew, never made mistakes. But it had to be wrong.

Right?

“Why are you hiding?”

Tony glanced up, eyes meeting Steve’s. The only eyes that still looked at him like they always had. “I’m not hiding.”

“Coulda fooled me.” Steve entered his workshop fully, scanning the mess of unfinished projects Tony was trying to make his way through. “I reckon I should’ve known you were here.”

“Of course you did. See, it’s not hiding if people already know your whereabouts.”

“So it’s isolation.”

Tony shrugged. “Can’t deny that.”

“Can I ask why?”

Tony looked away, picking at a screwdriver on the desk before him. “I think you can take a guess.”

“I would prefer hearing it from you.”

“Why?”

“Because me knowing and you allowing me to know are two different things.” Tony could hear Steve moving closer. “But you don’t have to say it if you don’t want to.”

“This whole Mjolnir thing,” Tony started, waving a hand around. “It’s weird, isn’t it?”

“It’s unusual,” Steve said. “But I don’t find it weird.”

Tony hadn’t meant for his laugh to sound so bitter. “Me of all people.”

Steve’s hand found Tony’s wrist, one finger touching it, as if he wasn’t aware he was doing it. “You’ve always thought too lowly of yourself, Tony.”

“I just don’t think I’m worthier than anyone else. If I can lift it so should you.”

“I’m no saint.”

“I evidently am not one either.”

“I don’t think it’s necessarily about what you’ve done in your life, but more what’s inside.”

“So why did it pick me?”

Steve turned to fully face him now, forcing Tony to do the same. “Listen to me,” he started, voice sterner now. “You’re worth so much more than you think. The hammer picked you because you were so adamant about believing it wouldn’t. You have a good heart, Tony. Stop denying it.”

Tony shoved lightly at Steve’s chest, feeling claustrophobic all of a sudden. “Stop.”

“What?”

“I’m not… I can’t…”

“Tony.”

Anyone else would’ve just accepted the compliment. Maybe even smiled smugly because of it. Why Tony couldn’t just pretend to accept it-

“Stop it.”

“What?”

“You’re overthinking. Calm down.” Steve reached out hesitatingly and touched his neck, fingertips gentle against his skin. “Breathe.”

Tony did. Inhaled shakily and tried to calm both his sudden self loathing and the wave of nerves.

How had they ended up here?

“I know believing something new is hard,” Steve said, voice low. Almost a whisper. “But if you let me I’ll make sure you never forget how wonderful you are.”

Tony leaned closer, resting his forehead against Steve’s chest. “The others don’t believe it.”

“Yes, they do.” Steve gave his neck a squeeze. “Their opinions shouldn’t matter, but they do. Trust me.”

“They look at me funny.”

“They’re wondering how much you’re hiding inside. How much of you they haven’t seen yet. You don’t exactly let people in.”

Tony snorted. “Hasn’t ended well in the past.”

Steve’s hand was in his hair now, and Tony found himself humming contently. “I’m not telling you to bare your whole soul. Just realize that whatever people made you believe in the past doesn’t define you.”

“You’re so good at this.”

“At what?”

“Making me feel better. It’s kind of unfair.”

Steve laughed. “How is it unfair?”

“That I can lift the hammer and you can’t.”

“Stop.”

Tony glanced up, a smile tugging at his lips. “Make me.”

Reason number 1291 that Steve Rogers should’ve been able to lift that godforsaken hammer: he was the best kisser Tony had ever had the privilege to, well, kiss.

Unfair.