#M: anyways Hound being insane over these two again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

titan-fodder · 4 years ago

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Prima Vista Part II

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Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 10.2k

Warnings: specific character attributes (not appearance, mentioned favorite color, movie, etc.), oral, rough sex, multiple orgasms, Erwin is kind of annoying, semi-exhibitionism, too much testosterone A/N: And, here we go again. Thank you to everyone who enjoyed the first part and told me about it. This one’s for y’all~

Mike immediately notices when you start to avoid him. You had already been doing it, but now it's to the point of ducking into buildings you have no business being in and walking a little too briskly when you catch sight of him somewhere on campus. You also won't get anywhere near the Pi Kappa Alpha house.

And, he gets it. He fucked up that night. Or, he didn't fuck up, but he opened up. Too much. Showed that he was willing to be vulnerable, and you obviously had not liked that.

The first week of watching you duck and cover from afar isn't so bad. He's a little bummed, yeah, but he figures you'll come around, if not for him then at least for his dick.

But, one week turns to two, and Mike gets irritated, a little angry even. Because it's not like he did anything wrong. It's not like you haven't wanted it every time.

He doesn't know your class schedule exactly, but he does know when you get out of your 11 AM and have to cross the courtyard to your dorm. It's where Mike caught you last time when he was playing frisbee with Nile, and it's where he catches you now.

Your speed walking is no match for his normal stride, and he easily closes the distance between you two and grabs your wrist to tug you toward a more private area by the library.

"What the fu—what are you doing?" You spit, pulling yourself free.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to get to my fucking room to nap! Is that okay?"

Mike ignores it, glances over his shoulder to make sure no one is watching, then asks, "Why are you avoiding me?"

Scoffing, you mumble an unconvincing, "I haven't been avoiding you."

"Bullshit."

"I've just been busy, okay? Midterms are coming up, and I'm falling behind…" He can tell you're lying by the way you can't meet his eyes. "I need to focus."

"Am I that big of a distraction?"

You don't miss a beat—"Yes," and your eyes widen at your own answer like you're surprised by it.

Mike raises his eyebrows, taken off guard, and you try to cover your tracks. "I mean, like, I don't have time to be fucking frat boys. And, I know you have the pick of the litter, so it's not like you'll go without."

He has to bite his tongue, a confession right on the tip of it—I pick you—but knows that's the last thing you want to hear. It's too early for thoughts like that anyway. You're too closed off, and he's too transparent. It's not like anything serious could work out anyway, and even if it could, he shouldn't tie himself down.

"I mean, yeah, but—"

You hold a hand up, take a deep breath. "Look, I'll be honest with you. You seem like an okay guy, but you should find some other girl to do this with. I don't wanna be another notch on your bedpost—"

"Then, don't be. We can just hang out."

"Yeah, we tried that at the party and still ended up sleeping together."

"We can make it a rule then." He's trying too hard, he knows, but he can't help it. "No fucking. I won't come onto you, and you won't come onto me."

You snort and pick at the hem of your shirt, obviously not buying any of this. "Why do you wanna be friends so bad anyway? Is it the hard-to-get thing? Is it that I'm making it difficult?"

"Maybe but not entirely."

Why does he want to be your friend so badly? You haven't given him any real reason to. You can bond over nerd shit here and there, but other than that, you don't have a lot in common.

You just seem… Cool. Aloof. Like you don't give a shit about anyone or anything, and Mike never thought he'd find that attractive in a girl, but apparently he does.

"Just come over one more time. We can watch something again or—"

"I'm not going into your room again!"

"You don't have to," Mike says, speaking with his hands to emphasize his point. "We can stay in the living room. Totally public. Any of the guys could walk in."

"Has that ever stopped any of you before?"

Not a hundred percent of the time. Mike has definitely seen more of Erwin and Gelgar than he'd like, but he can tell a little white lie.

"Yes."

You stare up at him, a skeptical look on your face, and then, "I'll see if I can pencil you in."

"Fuck yeah, I promise I'll show you a good time without, like, showing you a good time."

"Yeah, whatever."

You're unimpressed, turn to walk away, but Mike is feeling a little too triumphant, a little too bold, and catches you before you can get too far.

He premises, "Just to get it out of my system," then bends down and kisses you. Palms covering your cheeks, fingers curling around the back of your head kisses you. He uses both of his thumbs, just under your mouth, to part your lips so that he can slide his tongue past them, and you push at his chest half-heartedly, no real force to it as you let him lick into your mouth.

The first whimper that escapes you is what makes you break away, your hands stronger against him to shove him back, and Mike smirks when you glare at him.

"You're on thin fucking ice, Zacharias. Thin ice."

"I'll keep it in mind."

With that, you leave the little alcove the two of you were in, grumbling and cursing the whole way. Mike just watches the sway of your hips and licks his lips.

You come over on a Saturday afternoon. Mike can tell you've tried to make yourself look not cute in loose, ripped jeans and a t-shirt, but it doesn't work. Mike still smiles, and you still roll your eyes at him before kicking your shoes off by the door.

"Okay, so what are we doing?" You ask, sitting two cushions away from him on the couch.

"I brought my Switch in here, so we have that…"

"Oh, do you have the SNES games downloaded?"

"Dumb question. Of course I do."

"Rude. Open that shit up."

He does, and you demand to play Donkey Kong, which Mike has no problem with, but, "A please would be nice."

You click your tongue, holding your hand out for the second tiny controller and tell him, "You don't get to hear me beg anymore."

Mike feels his shorts tighten, but all he does is kick a foot over his thigh and warn you, "Best not test my self-control like that."

"Is that a threat?" You laugh, toggling down to 'Two Player' on the screen and clicking it.

"Not a threat." He bobs his head to the theme music. "Just lettin’ you know."

You get as far as Mine Cart Carnage together, but Mike ends up getting tossed from the cart, leaving you to take over as Diddy. He watches the way you move with your character, sitting up straighter, raising the controller to your chest, swaying one way then the next as if your body is tied directly to the game.

Erwin walks in a little while later when you're focused on Stop & Go Station. He sits down in a plush chair, phone in his hand that he ignores in favor of asking, "What are you guys doing out here? Shouldn't you be in Mike's room?"

Mike glances at him, gives him a look and shakes his head, but you're much less subtle when you snap, "Can it, Smith," eyes never leaving the screen.

"Don't count on that," Mike snorts. "I think it’s physically impossible for him to keep his mouth shut for longer than four seconds."

"Wooow," Erwin drawls, thick eyebrows high in offense. "I'm supposed to be able to trust you, and now you're just talking shit right in front of me."

"For some reason, I get the feeling your ego can't get bruised that easily," you muse out loud.

"I'll have you know I can be very sensitive," Erwin informs you matter-of-factly. "I have a heart. I have feelings. And, I've been told on multiple occasions that I'm more considerate than most men, so there."

You laugh, a silly sound that gets stuck in your throat. "Oh, really? And how many of those women—'cause that's what they are, I'm sure—were left behind after they built you up like that, hm?"

Biting both of his lips, Erwin sits back in his chair and crosses his arms. "I plead the fifth on that one."

"Uh huh, that's what I thought."

While you're fixated on the screen, Mike glances over at his friend, sees blue eyes shining as Erwin stares at you, a tell-tale smirk on his face. He's amused by you. Interested, even.

You stay for about an hour longer before going back to the dorms. As soon as the front door shuts, Mike swivels around and points a finger at Erwin, uttering a low, "Don't you dare," that makes the blond chuckle.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

You mostly hang out on weekends and only in small bursts. Alternating between movies and video games, it's a little hard to speak to one another, but Mike is still able to pry some information out of you and share more about himself.

You're majoring in geological and earth sciences while Mike is working toward a degree in environmental science— "Kinda weird we haven't run into each other before."

You played basketball for a year in high school before getting annoyed by the other girls. Mike, on the other hand, made some of his best friends on his old soccer team.

You had a ferret growing up and now you'll "Never get another pet again 'cause when he died, I died a little with him." (It's the first time Mike has ever seen tears in your eyes, but you blink them away at record speed). He tells you about the dogs his family has had and how the one at home with his parents now is actually his. (Her name's Scout, and I would take a bullet for her.")

Hitch is your best friend even though she irritates the shit out of you, and Mike says something similar about Erwin. "He's a good guy. He's just… Passionate about so many things. He gets obsessive. Drives me insane."

"Obsessed with that pussyyy," you joke in a deep, stupid voice.

Mike snorts, "Perv," and keeps watching the movie that's playing.

And, speaking of movies, your favorite Disney film is The Fox and The Hound— "Good taste," while his is Lion King— "Classic." As far as other movies, though, the two of you spend half an hour arguing over which Mel Brooks is the best, end up having to agree to disagree (Young Frankenstein vs. High Anxiety).

Your favorite color is green. Your favorite food is pizza (“What are you, twelve?”). Your favorite animal is the pangolin. They’re all little facts that Mike stores away, and by the end of the semester, he actually feels like he kind of knows you, and somehow, against all odds, you've managed to not hookup through it all.

That's not to say it hasn't been hard (that he hasn't been hard). Sometimes you come over in skin tight jeans or crop tops, outfits that accentuate your body in all the right ways, and Mike is pretty sure that you do it on purpose.

You're both careful not to drink too much at parties, aware of the likely consequences, but you hang around him enough to gain people's attention—jealous girls watching in disappointment, curious guys sizing you up.

Questions inevitably arise. You complain about Hitch pestering you for details that you will not give her, and he tells you how he has to keep brushing off his brothers.

"She doesn't, like, know we've had sex—would never fucking leave me alone if she did. But she and all her other little friends are so annoying about it."

You're on the steps outside of the frat house, jackets zipped up, nursing steaming cups of cocoa you got from the nearby shop.

"So, what do you tell them?" Mike asks.

You shrug your shoulders. "That we're not fucking. Just friends. They don't believe me, but that's my story, and I'm sticking to it, dammit."

Mike laughs through his nose and takes another drink. "I mean, it's not a lie since we're not fucking and we are friends."

You make a high pitched noise, doubtful, challenging. "Friends is a strong word."

"Whatever."

He's used to you doing that now, denying him every chance you get even in a joking way. You've never once admitted to any type of feelings out loud, and he isn't sure why, some kind of avoidance behavior, but he won't complain because he knows you're at least a little fond of him. You wouldn't keep spending time with him if you weren't.

Deciding to change the subject, Mike prompts, "So, Erwin's party over the break," and you glance at him over your cup with interest. "You're coming, right?"

"I don't know. Isn't it at, like, his ranch house in bum fuck nowhere?"

"Kinda. It's only about a two hour drive from here, but it's definitely off the beaten path."

"I'll have to see. Need to spend time with my mom while I can."

Understandable. He's looking forward to seeing his own parents (and Scout, of course).

The last game of the season is played and won, then finals pass after too many all-nighters and too much Red Bull. Mike actually sighs in relief when he slides into his white Wrangler, all packed up and ready to make the drive back to his house.

He sends one text before pulling out onto the main road—Be safe—and hopes he won't have to wait an entire month to see you again.

Staying with your mom is nice but always slightly depressing. The house is empty with just her in it, less lived in than ever before. You can tell exactly which spots she spends most of her time in—her office to work and the couch in front of the TV to wind down.

You sleep in your old bedroom, spend most evenings texting Hitch after your mom goes to bed, but a few conversations with Mike slip in too. He sends you several pictures of Scout—beautiful but always wearing one of those perpetual Boxer frowns—and in return, you send him pictures of the pretty betta your mother has in her office. It's the best you can do.

After a week of being in your hometown, you're ready to leave it again. It's not terrible or in a bad part of town. It's just… lacking. You'd never tell your mother this, but you have a feeling she knows. It's probably why she doesn't put up a fight when you tell her you're gonna run off for a couple days to attend Erwin's party.

"I promise I'll be back. It's just one night and then the drive back."

Her tone is very serious when she tells you to stay out of trouble, but then she walks you out to your car and hugs you, watching and waving as you drive away.

You text Erwin on the way there to ask if it's okay to arrive early—like a few hours early cause I needed to get out of my house—and he replies enthusiastically.

Absolutely! Mike and Levi are already here 😃

You have no idea who this Levi is outside of hearing Erwin mention him a few times, but you very quickly find out when you get to the large but secluded house. You see Erwin's stupid (gorgeous) vintage Mustang parked in the gravel driveway as well as Mike's white Jeep and an unfamiliar, black Prius.

All three of them are on the porch occupying outdoor chairs that probably cost more than your fucking dorm expenses, but Mike and Erwin both stand when you make your way up the sidewalk. Staying seated, or really sprawled out with his hands behind his head, is a fairly small man (boy, maybe) with inky hair and sunglasses covering his eyes. He’s dressed much differently than the other two, ripped jeans, Doc Martens, and a striped long sleeved shirt under a short sleeved band tee.

“What in the e-boy fuck…” You mutter to yourself, nodding at the blonds and letting Mike take your backpack—not that you really have a choice considering your grip on it is no match for his.

“Was the drive okay?” He asks, swinging the bag over his shoulder and making it look incredibly small.

“Yeah. Once I hit the backroads I could start going, like, eighty-five, so that shaved some time off.”

Mike snorts. “You sound like Erwin. Dude’s always speeding.”

“Don’t fucking start with me. I was in the car with you when you almost hit a pedestrian on a crosswalk.”

“We don’t talk about that.”

Everyone follows Erwin inside the house. It’s just as nice as you thought it’d be, sprawling and open with wood floors, plush furniture, and rustic decorations. There are moose antlers mounted in one room and a god damned bear head in another. It makes you roll your eyes, but to say you’re unimpressed would be a flat out lie.

“Not everyone is staying the night, but I know you have to, so just pick an upstairs room,” Erwin tells you after the grand tour. “I can take you around on the golf cart once you settle in.”

You see Mike roll his green eyes and amend, “We can take you around.”

“Yeah,” Erwin nods. “That’s what I meant.”

Levi is making a face up at Erwin, furrowed brow, squinty eyes, and a little grimace. He hasn’t said more than two words to you since you’ve arrived (“I’m Levi.”), but he doesn’t seem like the chatterbox type, a little more standoffish, and you can’t blame him for that.

“Just in case you’re wondering, I’m in the middle room,” Mike tells you with a grin.

“And why, pray tell, would I be wondering that?”

He basically sings in his deep voice, “No reason,” then walks back downstairs with Erwin and Levi, leaving you to make yourself comfortable.

You take the bedroom at the far end of the hallway out of spite more than anything, but you figure the farther away you can be from Mike the better. After setting your things down and organizing deodorant, perfume, and every day jewelry on the dresser, you join the guys downstairs to find them huddling over the kitchen island talking about plans for the night.

“Should we get a keg? It won’t be that many people, but it might be easier to just pour from one,” Erwin thinks out loud.

“Don’t bother getting a keg if it’s gonna be the same shitty beer you guys have at Pike parties,” you chime in, hip checking Mike so that he’ll scoot over and allow you join their little meeting.

Levi lets out a little laugh, the most expressive you’ve seen him so far, while the other two pout at your criticism.

“Why don’t you pick the beer then?” Erwin prompts. “Since you have such refined tastes.”

Eyebrows lifting, you laugh. “Oh, we’ve got a smartass in the house tonight.” The blond smirks and dusts off his shoulders, making Mike groan in either annoyance or embarrassment. You can’t be sure which one.

“Fuck, is this what it’s always like between you three?” Levi asks, looking between all of you. “Just constant bickering?”

“More or less.”

“That seems exhausting.”

“It is,” you confirm. “‘S’why I can only hang out with them in small doses.”

“Ouch.”

“Wounded.”

“Anyway,” you let your head hang so that all they can see is your shoulders shaking as you giggle, and when you look back up, you make sure that the smile is mostly wiped from your face. “I’m not saying I’m some kind of beer expert, but I at least know that the shit you serve at parties is rancid.”

“And yet, you always seem to forget,” Mike teases. “I always end up having to finish yours.”

“You don’t have to. You choose to, you fucking alkie.”

It’s hard to come to any sort of decision with the non-stop push and pull of the conversation, and eventually Levi just walks away to let the three of you work it out. Erwin orders a keg of Rolling Rock, says something about, “Dad won’t mind me splurging a little since I downsized this whole thing for him,” and you scoff at him.

He’s well aware of his privilege, talks about it in an ironic manner that’s both maddening and hilarious— “Father is going to let me take the yacht out this weekend,” and, “Oh, that’s not country club appropriate.” It makes you laugh every fucking time, but it also usually earns him a smack or two.

The next few hours are spent gathering party supplies and getting the house ready (as in moving some furniture around and hiding valuables). Erwin leaves to pick up the keg after assuring the vendor on the phone that he can drive to them and pay extra for the short notice. You don’t know how he manages it, but you assume his confidence has a lot to do with it.

Only about twenty people are supposed to come, “An Erwin Smith exclusive,” Mike jokes with you as you stash a couple of vases in the kitchen cabinets.

“Oh, does that mean I’m special?” You play.

“Absolutely.”

There’s something churning in your gut as you move around downstairs with Mike and Levi, an omniscient feeling, like you know how the night will end, but you’re going to fight it every step of the way. You’ve made it this long without a slip-up, and you’re determined to make it one more night.

Erwin gets back with about three hours to spare. He and Mike disappear to change into what you assume to be their usual douche-y attire, and you and Levi sit alone in the large living room waiting quietly.

You’re surprised when he speaks first, stating, “You don’t seem the sorority type.”

Turning, you try to make sense of it, respond, “Well, I’m not.” You’re almost offended that he’d even consider you were.

“Then what are you doing hanging around with those frat boy fucks?”

“Oh, that.” You sigh. “Uhh, my friend made me go to one of their parties, and I just… Made an impression, I guess.”

“You fucked one of ‘em, didn’t you?” Levi is smirking, so sure of himself that you don’t really see the point in denying it.

“Yeah.”

“Rich boy or the giant?”

You look over at him, defenses rising like they did your first night in the Pi Kappa Alpha house. “The fuck is it to you?”

Holding his hands up, Levi chuckles, “Alright, alright, forget I asked.”

You cross your arms over your chest, stare off as you wonder if it’s actually that hard to tell. You figured it would be obvious that you’re more comfortable with Mike than with Erwin, but you have been getting more used to the other brazen blond over the last few months, just like you’ve been getting a little more used to Nile and all the other brothers. You haven’t sucked any of their dicks, though.

“How’d you meet Erwin?” You try.

You’re not surprised when Levi snarks, “The fuck is it to you?”

You can’t tell if the two of you are going to leave this ranch house as mortal enemies or as friends, but it’ll definitely be one of them.

“‘Cause you don’t seem the type to hang out with them either,” you tell him.

It's definitely odd. He and Erwin have to go back some time to have been able to stick together through their college years and all of their superficial differences.

Levi admires the black polish on his nails then informs you in a bored tone, “We’ve been friends since we were kids, but it’s no big deal. Just can’t get rid of him.”

The corner of his mouth turns upward, so he can’t be too heartbroken over it. You understand that, haven’t quite been able to shake your puppy-dog of a friend since the beginning of the semester, but you’re not as annoyed about it as you pretend to be.

“They certainly do get attached,” you hum.

The two men in question join you once again, looking much more palatable in jeans and v-necks. Erwin has a button-down hanging open and rolled up to his elbows while Mike is wearing a black and white flannel in similar fashion. It’s the most casual they’ve been at a party, and you can’t help but joke, “Wow, look at you two. More human, less lizard people for once.”

Erwin rolls his eyes while Mike mumbles a Doctor Who reference that makes you suck on the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning.

He’s got his charm turned on tonight, the kind that appeals to you, which will definitely pose a problem.

People start arriving at around eight, some you recognize from the college, some you don’t who you assume to be some of Erwin’s older friends. Gelgar taps the keg within minutes of walking in then plays the role of bartender for the next ten minutes as everyone lines up for a drink. There’s liquor and mixers set up on the counter, and you consider just making your usual, but you figure you should have at least a little of the beer since you’re the one who fought for the more expensive brand.

When you get your cup, foam nearly overflowing past the rim, you take one sip only to cough it back up when Mike shows off his usual party trick—appearing out of thin air—and asks, “You gonna finish it this time?”

You splutter as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand then glare up at him. “I’m gonna try, but it’s gonna be pretty fuckin’ difficult if you keep making me spit up like a god damn baby.”

He’s amused, light eyes dancing mischievously, and you know you’re in for a long night.

Erwin has a playlist filtering through the house’s sound system, a nice balance of several different genres playing at a bearable volume for the first time. Games start up in the kitchen, rage cage around the island, beer pong at the table, and while you’re content to just wallflower in the corner, Mike drags you into it.

“You’re just as bad as Hitch," you complain, but he isn't fazed, just plants you in an open spot at the island and stands right beside you. He's gonna regret doing that; rage cage is one of the only competitive games you're actually good at, but he'll find that out.

It's fast-paced, full of screaming and laughing, jumping and shoving. You get to slam your cup into Mike's on several occasions, drawing curses from him every time.

"Honestly, it's a little embarrassing," you ridicule with a smile.

He downs the small amount of beer in the cup he pulls, adds it to the stack, then challenges, "I'll show you embarrassing. Just wait."

You've had maybe two beers altogether, but it still sends a jolt down your spine.

The two of you play another couple of rounds, and Mike does seem to catch on a little more, but he eventually bows out and pulls you away with him.

More beer. Meandering around the party. It's pretty tame in comparison to all the Pike events you've attended, but the later it gets, the rowdier everyone becomes. Music gets turned up to dance. The keg stops being used for pouring and starts being used for stands. You have the absolute pleasure of watching Erwin hold Levi upside down as the smaller man chugs as much as he can. He beats Nile's record, raises his arms in victory as Erwin shakes him by the shoulders in excitement.

"They're pretty close, yeah?"

Mike looks down at you as you stand on your tip-toes to get closer to his ear as you speak.

He nods. "I don't really understand them, but yeah. They've been friends since, like, elementary school, I think."

"No shit?"

"No shit."

You play beer pong against Gelgar and Nile, end up losing by quite a lot, and by the time you finish the remaining cups and another full drink, you're feeling good. Warm, happy, dangerously giggly.

Mike stands too close as you make your rounds to talk to people, many of them asking how the lacrosse season went. He puffs his chest a little, tries and fails to act modest, but instead of getting irritated like you usually do, you find yourself resting your cheek against his arm as you shake your head. You don't know if the action is to disagree with him or to get closer, but it makes Mike chuckle and shift so that he can wrap that arm around you and pull you to his chest instead.

He smells nice—woodsy with a sweet little bite. It makes your mouth water. You try to call back your determination from before, that readiness to fight and deny, but Mike's body is firm and massive and hot against yours, and he's also drunk and smiling sideways. His eyes are hazy and gorgeous when he peers down at you. His stubble has grown into that perfect length, the kind that feels incredible between your legs, and you can already see your hands tugging at his shaggy hair as he flips it from his face.

"You okay?" He rumbles, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

He knows. You know he knows. And, he knows that you know that—

Fuck. Stop. Just…

"What do you think?" You're aware of what you're saying. The words make perfect sense. You just can't stop them from falling from your mouth is all.

"I don't know," Mike says, a playful lilt to his voice. "Why don't you tell me?"

You're not sure if he's asking for your consent or if he just wants to humiliate you by making you spell it out for him.

"I mean…" Your gaze travels from his face to his neck to his pecs and downward. "The semester is over."

"It is," he agrees, hand moving from your waist to your hip.

"Don't really need to be, uh… What's the word…" You squeeze your eyes shut, splaying your fingers on his stomach. "Studious," you snap. "Don't need to be so studious on vacation."

Mike very slowly starts walking backwards toward the staircase, holding you at arms length by both your hips now.

"No, you really don't."

Voice of reason fading away, you step around him but grab his hand, taking the stairs two by two until you're on the balcony that wraps above the living room. Once you slip into the closer room, yours, you lock the door.

Mike's mouth is familiar in its desperation—tastes like beer and want and him. He pulls his flannel off behind him by the sleeves just in time for you to start pushing his shirt up over his abs, in awe all over again at the muscle group.

It's really not fair.

You pause between kisses to strip, smiling and groaning whenever your lips meet again. You've missed it on some level—the heat, the fucking attraction you just can't shake. All the times you hung out with him, purposely keeping distance, avoiding flirting and touching and staring—you figured it would come to a head. You even guessed there was a good chance that it would be at this party.

But, that doesn't mean you're prepared when he throws you onto the bed, doesn't prepare you for the way he bites your lip and sucks on your neck and pinches your nipples until you moan his name and grind against him, and it certainly doesn't prepare you for the way he spreads your legs, runs his nose up the inside of your thigh, then drags his tongue over your slit.

"Fuck, Mike."

He groans, quick to slide the muscle into your pulsing cunt to taste you. His fingertips are digging into the fat of your thighs, keeping you still save for your trembling which makes the feeling of his mouth even more intense. You want to buck against his face, want to put out the fire raging inside of you by moving somehow, letting some of the energy out, but you can't. All you can do is lay there as Mike licks around your hole and nibbles at your clit and laps up your juices.

"Missed this fuckin' pussy," he breathes, sucking on one of your lips and then the other, pulling blood to the surface and making them puffy and sensitive.

You card fingers through his hair before fisting your hand in it and shoving his face further into your cunt, trying as hard as you fucking can to ride any part of him you can manage—his tongue, his nose, anything that will give you friction.

The sound he makes at your pathetic attempt is bestial, a low, throaty grunt as he rubs his chin up and down your slit, drenching himself in your slick and quickly overstimulating your swollen clit with his stubble.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck—"

"You wanted it," he grits. "You pushed your sloppy little cunt right in my face, so now you've gotta take everything I give you."

You cry as he continues the motion, pussy drooling as the little bud starts to grow raw. "Mike, please, please…"

"Gonna make sure you feel this tomorrow." He stops only to lean back down and suck your clit into his mouth. The tip of his tongue is soft in comparison to the coarse hair, but it still makes your hips twitch, and when he grazes his teeth over it, you squeal and kick.

It's so close to hurting, right on the edge, but it's that helplessness that has you steadily leaking on the bed. It's what makes it easy for Mike to push a finger into your clenching hole, pump a couple times, then slide another one in beside it.

Your climax is coiling in your gut, compressed like a spring and only getting tighter with every thrust of long, thick fingers and every measured flick of his tongue.

Gripping his hair again, you ride it out. Mike loosens his grip just enough to allow you to undulate in time with the waves that wash over you, and you moan loudly as he moves to flatten his tongue over your entrance so that you come on and against it.

He gives you some time to settle down, but you know he isn't done yet, and since you're not quite ready to take his cock in your sensitive pussy, you pull your legs from the sides of his head and crawl to lay with your head off the side of the bed.

Mike gets the picture immediately, and you hear a huff of air leave him all at once before he clambers off the mattress to position himself at the edge. You're a little too low, so he grabs all four pillows to shove under you, and as he does, you lavish his bobbing cock with kitten licks, going as far as sucking on his balls when he leans over you.

"Jesus fucking—"

You can feel the way they tighten, his cockhead dripping pre that lands just below the notch of your sternum. It isn't until he's thoroughly coated in spit that you stop and let him straighten, then open your mouth and relax your shoulders.

Mike is careful as he slides his tip past your lips, letting you adjust to the weight of his cock in your mouth before he pushes in a little further. Your eyes start watering as soon as he passes between your molars, making you stretch your jaw and drool from the corners of your mouth.

He pulls out then, taps his cockhead on your cheek, leaving a mix of precum and spit on your skin before lining himself up again and sliding back in.

He repeats the process a few times as if it'll actually get you used to his size, but it's just not possible. You gag and gurgle, slurp back drool when you're given the chance, and your entire body throbs when Mike tells you, "I'm gonna give you more now, okay? Wanna see your throat bulge with my cock."

You moan around him, try to make the passage of your mouth and esophagus as straight as possible then let your eyes roll back as he slips into the tighter sleeve for a few seconds. Your toes dig into the bedspread, fingers clawing at the material as you fight back the panic that comes with not being able to breathe.

Mike pulls out panting, and you wish you could see his face, the look in his eyes, but you can't. All you can do is lap at his cock until he pushes it into your mouth again.

This time when he slips into your throat, he reaches down to press a hand to your neck, letting out a deep, disbelieving laugh as he feels the way his length moves in it. "Holy shit. I could—" he just barely gives you more, and your responding whine is completely muffled by him, "—Could come like this."

The thought makes you tingle. Or maybe that's the lack of oxygen. You are feeling a little lightheaded. But the idea of him coming down your throat, right into your stomach, fuck, it makes your cunt pulse again.

Mike pulls out, and you suck in deep breaths, a little sob making your chest heave. Tears are streaming from your eyes, getting caught in your hair, and you have to wipe other various fluids from your face.

He helps you sit back up, rubs your shoulders and kisses the back of your neck as your heart rate returns to normal. As soon as he sees you relax, though, he's tugging you from the bed and bending you over it.

The scream that's pushed from you is hoarse as you're split open on his cock. Mike holds you by the hair, pulling your head back as he snaps his hips forward and back relentlessly. He slides in and out of you easily, but that doesn't mean he isn't stretching you to your breaking point.

You shake on the bed, thankful when he lets go of your head so that you can fall back to the mattress, crying and moaning all you want.

"Feel so good, baby," Mike groans. "So good."

He punctuates it with a slap to your ass that causes you to squeeze him, and that only encourages him to repeat the action until both your cheeks are radiating heat and stinging from his hands.

He flips you like a doll, and you're finally able to see his face clearly as he stares down at you with a dropped jaw and heavy lids. You know you're a mess, fucked out and sloppy, but as he abuses your g-spot with the ridge of his cock, all you can do is grin drunkenly and let your eyes roll.

"So pretty when you smile," he praises. Fingers grip your chin, and when you're able to focus your gaze again you find Mike leaning over you, face level with yours. "Open your mouth for me." His tone is soft yet demanding, and you don't hesitate for a second as you do what you're told.

Mike pushes spit through his lips, letting it drip and stretch until it lands on your tongue. It makes you feel cheap and disgusting, but it doesn't stop you from squirting around him.

Devolving into nothing more than grunts and groans, Mike continues to fuck into you but straightens so that he can reach your clit better. He flicks it back and forth until your true orgasm hits you, and then he keeps going.

You cry out, squirm wildly beneath him, but all it results in is two fingers being shoved in your mouth. Stroking over the back of your tongue, more saliva pours from your mouth just like the slick that pours from your pussy while he toys with your clit.

You come again. And again. When Mike finally removes his hand from between your legs, you're nothing more than a puddle, moaning and crying for him.

Every orgasm has made your walls swell around him, his cock feeling longer and thicker than ever as he kisses your cervix with every thrust. That lightheaded sensation is back, white dots dancing around your eyes, and you just barely manage out his name, tapping in his forearm.

"Need… need…"

"What do you need, babe?"

Your arms curl up by your head, fingers moving and spasming as every one of your senses is overwhelmed.

"Need you to—t-to—to come. Need you to c-come."

You've never had to tap out before, but you can't take him anymore. His size. His expression. His lack of fucking mercy.

"Yeah?" He coos, but his cock is still dragging in and out of you. You nod, but Mike draws it out, asking, "Where do you want me to come?"

"Don't… Care…"

"You don't care?" He's still moving, fucking you absolutely stupid as he lists out, "Your face? Your tits?" He gropes your chest, pinching both nipples, and the fact that you don't even whimper must clue him into the fact that he's about to lose you.

Your mind is swimming, fading every time he pulls out only to be brought back online when he pushes back in.

"What about your pussy? Want me to come all over your pussy?"

You moan, the simplest part of your brain apparently finding that appealing, so after a few more thrusts, Mike pulls out entirely and jerks himself off until he covers your folds in hot cum. He gets some on your thighs, some on your pelvis, soaks your peaking clit so that you take in a stuttering breath.

His hand is between your legs again, fingertips spreading the viscous fluid around and dipping into your slit.

Your eyes shoot open for the first time in God knows how long, a panicked, "M-Mike," tumbling from your lips, but he hushes you.

"I'm not pushing it inside or anything. Just having fun."

And, fuck, tonight is the night you learn how filthy he is. Mike spends a few solid minutes rubbing his seed over your puffy lips, fingers the raw tissue around your hole so that you leak for him, then uses it to massage your clit slowly and softly, pulling one last orgasm from you that makes fresh tears spring in your eyes.

You're going to be in a world of pain tomorrow, but you can't regret it—not when your legs continue to shake long after your climax, not when you can already feel that satisfying ache deep inside of you, not when Mike crawls to sit on the bed and lifts you into his arms.

"You okay?" He asks into your hair.

He's rubbing soothing circles on your stomach as you drift in and out. You know you need to shower, but you're so tired and so wrecked, you doubt you'll be able to stand for long enough to clean yourself.

"Did I hurt you?"

"Mm, little bit," you tell him honestly. You can actually feel his heart start to beat harder in his chest, so you reassure him, "Liked it, though."

You think something like twenty minutes pass, but you can't be sure as you keep dozing. It's hard not to with Mike rubbing your stomach, his body rising and falling in rhythm with every breath he takes.

When your eyes open more than halfway, you begin to move, grimacing at the soreness between your legs as well as the mess.

"'m gonna hop in the shower," you announce.

Mike sits up too, stretches his arms and asks through a groan, "Want me to come with?"

"You've done enough coming tonight," you snort. "But nah, I can clean myself on my own."

His eyebrows furrow, but he doesn't say anything, just lets you get up and walk to the bathroom on shaky legs.

The hot water almost puts you back to sleep. You manage to rinse off where you need to, step back into the room fully expecting to see Mike passed out in your bed, but he's nowhere to be found.

As you crawl under the covers, you try to swallow the feeling of disappointment that's stuck in your throat.

Mike is up before almost everyone in the house the next morning, so he spends most of it trying to clean up alongside Levi, though he apparently isn't doing a very good job of it according to the smaller man.

"Jesus, have you ever mopped a floor in your life?"

"Oh, so we're just throwing everything in the same trash bag? No recycling? Your future kids will thank you for that, I'm sure."

"No, there's no way I’m letting you wipe down the counters. Just move."

Levi is lucky Mike is as laid back as he is otherwise he would have thrown the little fuck into the koi pond behind the house a long time ago.

Erwin wakes up around nine and walks down looking a little rough, but Mike has definitely seen him in worse states.

"Thanks for cleaning up," he says, bent over the island and holding his head in his hands. "Pretty sure I would have thrown up if I'd tried. Several times."

He tells the other two that pretty much everyone else started heading out at around three and that he has a list of party-goers he needs to text to make sure they made it home in one piece, "When I can actually fucking see straight."

Naturally, the conversation turns to Mike. Erwin, with his cheek now pressed against the cool, granite countertop, smirks up at him and asks in a sly voice, "So, how was your night?'

Mike bites his lip to hide a smile, leans out of the kitchen to make sure you aren't stumbling down the stairs or traipsing about the house, then looks back to his friend and laughs, "Fucking mind-blowing, dude." He doesn't go into explicit detail—that's never been his style—but he does whisper about you taking him better than any other girl and that he's, "Addicted, dude. I genuinely think I am addicted to her pussy."

"Don't be fucking dramatic, Zacharias," you pop out behind him, slapping his back as you pass him to get to the fridge. He can see the ghost of a smile turning your lips up, but it's hard to feel satisfied at that when his own face is beet red.

Looking at Erwin, Mike throws his hands out by his side, mutters an incredulous, "Dude," that makes the other blond chuckle.

You grab a water bottle from the refrigerator, making Levi grumble, "Are none of you guys concerned about the planet? God damn."

Standing between Mike and Erwin, you take a few gulps, all eyes on you until you swallow and question, "Can I help you?" Now that you're right next to him, Mike can hear a scratchiness to your voice, almost as if you're getting sick, but he knows better, knows exactly where it came from, and fuck if it doesn't make him twitch in his sweats.

"Have a good time at the party?" Erwin pries once again.

You look at him with a deadpan expression, then answer, "Seems like you already got the deets, so sure. I had a grand time."

Mike isn't sure if you're being sarcastic about it just like you are everything else. You had just kind of left him hanging when you'd gone to shower. He hadn't thought too much into it even if he'd been a little bummed, but he thinks he understands. You just need more space than he does.

Or, it could have been that you hadn't enjoyed yourself. Oh god, what if you'd just been faking? What if you'd lied to him when he asked if he hurt you? What if you're in pain right now and just hiding it?

Mike zones out while you talk with Erwin and Levi about plans for the day, works himself into a nice little panic but is still able to hear you tell them you're just gonna head back to your mom's.

"You sure?" Erwin asks. "I know you only planned to stay one night, but you're more than welcome to hang out for longer. We’ll be here for at least another few days."

Levi adds an, "Unfortunately," that earns him a hair ruffle he swats away.

"No, it's cool. I can't leave mom alone for the holiday or she'll start to think I don't like staying at the house."

"You don't, though."

"Yeah, but she doesn't have to know that."

Mike stares after you as you take your water bottle and return upstairs, and it doesn't escape the notice of the other two men.

"You're so fuckin' whipped, man," Erwin teases.

Mike doesn't deny it, just holds up a middle finger.

Erwin isn't entirely wrong, though. Mike has been trying to deny it or play it off as nothing more than lust, but there's more to his feelings at this point. He tries not to be obvious around you, to keep his cards close to his chest because he knows you just want to keep things casual—barely even want that if he's being honest.

So he can hide it. He can pretend it isn't happening. In fact, Mike should be thankful that you only want sex (sometimes) because it leaves him to do whatever he wants. He could fuck other chicks left and right, and you wouldn't even bat an eyelash. That's a good thing, right?

That worry about last night still has him on edge, though, so before you can leave, Mike catches you in your room as you're packing up and closes the door.

He expects you to make some kind of comment about not being able to go again, but all you do is tilt your head to the side in a dangerously cute way.

"Hey, I, uh… I just wanted to make sure you felt okay after last night."

You blink at him, pause in folding your clothes, then show a wide, real grin.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sore in various places—like, super sore—but I'm fine."

Mike's mouth twists to hide his smirk, and he mumbles a low, "Sorry."

"Don't ever apologize for your monster cock," you tell him, setting your shirt down on the mattress before pacing over to him. "Like, unless there's tearing of some sort, which there really shouldn't be since you're good at preparation, whoever you fuck should be okay. Sore but okay."

His eyes go a little wide when you stop in front of him, looking up with an expression he's really never seen before—or maybe that you've never allowed him to see before—and the longer he stares, the more he realizes that you're god damn glowing.

Taking a chance, he finds your waist with his hands, inches just a little closer, then leans down when you stand on your toes and tug him by the shirt.

You taste like peppermint and already smell like the perfume you wear every day, the scent that has made Mike dizzy for the past few months. He moves a hand to your back to press your body into his, and when you take his bottom lip into your mouth, biting and sucking, he groans and pulls back before he can get too hard.

"What's all this? Why are you so perky this morning?"

"I get giddy after good sex," you say with a shrug. "Sue me."

"That why you run away every time I fuck you?" He questions.

You nod. "Couldn't run away this time, though."

"I'm sure it's really bruising your pride, letting me see you all warm and gooey."

"I am not warm and gooey," you protest. "I was last night, but—"

"Aw, gross, why'd you have to say it like that?"

You giggle—giggle—then remind him, "You're the one who felt the need to fucking fingerpaint."

Mike vividly remembers the way your pussy looked covered in his cum, the way it felt to smear it and play with your swollen entrance and clit, and now… Now he is definitely hard again.

"Better stop before you end up on that bed again."

Your eyes are dancing, tone mischievous when you respond, "Only if you're gentle."

"Christ—"

He's got you naked and spread on the mattress in less than thirty seconds, tongue buried in your cunt as he soothes every part of you he can reach.

It would be cruel to actually fuck you again. He knows you're probably a little more tender than you're letting on, so Mike settles for licking into you and flicking your clit, never using teeth as it swells in his mouth so that you pant and moan, and promise, "I can handle it, Mike, I can…"

"I don't care if you can or can't. Just lemme do this."

And, it's not like he hasn't pulled his cock from his pants, pumping it and coating his length in the pre-cum he drips at the mere sight of you.

He can tell you're getting close when your thighs start to tense. You alternate between shifting your hips and going slack. It's the latter that you leak the most, pussy opening around his tongue only to clench a few seconds later.

"Just one finger, Mike, please, I want—I need something inside me, please, please," you moan.

Mike turns his face to kiss your thigh, sighing but giving in easily when he acquiesces, "Only one."

The noise you make as he slides his middle finger into you is like music, high pitched and drawn out, with an awe one would sing hymns with.

"Yes, yes, yes, thank you, fuck, tha—"

He understands why you wanted it so badly when he pulls it out and sees his finger coated in white, considers fucking you with it to the point of tears, but before he can, the door to the bedroom swings open and fucking Erwin walks in to ask, "Levi and I are going to the store—"

“Jesus fuck, Erwin!" Mike swears. "A little busy here!"

His friend is unfazed, but more importantly, you are too, arching your back, pulling Mike's hair to get him back where you want him, then moaning his name like you never have before as you come.

You tremble and take in stuttering breaths, and Mike does his best to hide your exposed pussy from prying eyes as he looks at Erwin and barks out a furious, "No, I don't need anything from the store. Get out."

The blond shrugs and turns, walking out without shutting the door, and Mike swears he's gonna kill him. He's too bold and too entitled and now he's seen far too much of your body, and Mike doesn't like that.

"Did you come?" You ask in an airy voice. Mike guesses you could feel the rhythm of his hand on his cock, probably pushing his face harder against you with every pass.

"Uh, no. I don't know if you noticed, but Erwin walked in."

"I noticed," you snort, sitting up on your elbows. "Why do you think I moaned your name like that?"

"What?" It had seemed a little odd. Mike knows he's pretty good at oral, but you've never made a sound like that before.

"Fucker wanted to see what we were up to, I decided to show him. Now he knows how good you are."

Mike stands, peers down at you skeptically and says, "You're being too nice to me today. It's freakin' me out a little."

He doesn't think it's necessary to add that Erwin is already aware of his sexual prowess considering they definitely had a threesome with a rather adventurous girl back in freshman year. It's just not pertinent information.

"Soak it up, Zacharias. I'm sure the good mood will be gone by tomorrow."

"Why, cause I won't be at your mom's to fuck you stupid every night?" His voice comes out cocky, but it's stifled by the way you squeal when he slaps a hand over your wet pussy.

"I'm sensitive, you asshole!" You're smiling even as you whine. "And, here I was about to give you head to get you off."

"I mean, you can still do that."

You glare up at him the whole time you slide off the bed to your knees, warn, "Better hope I don't bite."

After you leave (and after making out against Mike’s Wrangler for a little too long), he goes back inside to find Erwin and Levi lounging in the den with a movie playing. He wastes no time in snapping his fingers at Erwin and commanding, "We're gonna talk."

"Oh, are we?" Erwin doesn't even look away until Mike grabs the back of his shirt, and only then does he move from his spot. "Okay, okay, watch the wrinkles, bro."

He follows Mike into the kitchen, out of earshot unless either of them raise their voices which… Could happen.

"What the fuck was that?" Mike hisses.

Erwin looks at him with big blue eyes and plays dumb, "What the fuck was what?"

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Mike makes sure his voice comes out low and steady, "Smith, I swear to God, it's been a long time since I've punched you, but you're fuckin' testing me, dude."

Erwin smiles, face lighting up with what looks like excitement but could also be fury.

"Mike," he starts. "Don't tell me you're getting violent over a girl." His tone is patronizing, his eyebrows are high, and his grin is downright menacing.

"I haven't gotten violent yet," Mike grits.

"Hey, how was I to know what you two were doing up there?"

"It's not about you walking in, dude! It's about you just fucking standing there!"

Erwin chuckles and blows him off, "Mike, I've seen your dick before. You've got nothing to worry about."

"That's not what I'm worried about. You just, like, came in when she was in a vulnerable position, and that's fucked up."

"She didn't seem to mind."

Mike sucks his teeth, takes another grounding breath, then asks again, "Why? Why did you wait to leave?"

"You want me to be honest?" Erwin rolls his neck then his shoulders. Mike has seen him do that many times before lacrosse games to loosen up—to get ready for a fight.

Mike's fist clenches at his side. "Yeah, I do."

"You've been making yourself crazy over this girl since the start of the semester, and I want to know why."

"What do you mean?" Mike doesn't know why he asks, has a pretty good idea of what Erwin is alluding to.

The blond still dodges the question but in about the worst way possible. "It's not like you two are exclusive or anything."

Mike feels the way his lungs fill to the point of burning, how his jaw clenches until his molars begin to ache under the pressure, and before he really knows what's happening, he's bowing up to his best friend.

Erwin matches him, only a couple inches shorter, chin tilted, that maddening light in his eyes.

"Walk away, Mike," he warns. "And, we can forget this little spat even happened."

Mike peers down his nose at him, trying to rein in his emotions because Erwin is right. You two aren't exclusive. You don't want to be. You told him it was because you need to focus on school, but it could be that you want other options.

But fuck, Mike doesn't want Erwin to be one of them. He's stolen more than a few girls right from under Mike's nose with his stupid charm and stupid face and stupid money. He doesn't want you to fall prey to all of it too.

Mike doesn't even register the quiet footsteps padding into the kitchen, but Levi's smartass, "You guys about to kiss or somethin'?" definitely snaps him out of his head.

Stepping back, Mike resists the urge to punch the counter and break his fucking hand, then turns and strides out.

He's supposed to stay at the ranch house for a couple more days, but Mike needs to distance himself before he does something stupid.

When he comes back downstairs with his bag on his shoulder and his keys in his hand, Erwin seems to realize his error on at least some level and stands from his place on the couch.

"Mike, come on, I'm sor—"

"Let me cool off, dude,” Mike snaps.

Erwin shuts his mouth and sits back down, smart enough not to follow Mike outside.

[ next ]

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #mels prima vista #mels frat house

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suddenlysackler · 3 years ago

Text

Limelight

Adam Sackler x Reader

TW: N/A (maybe a lil smidge of angst but nothing major)

A/N: This has been on the back burner for quite a bit and it’s a tad messy but I wanted to put it out for you all because I miss you and I miss my goblin bf and, ya know, Cannes 2021. Thank you for reading, I’m hopeful that I’ll be back more frequently in the coming weeks!

...

Adam Sackler had ascertained very quickly that he did not care for red carpets in the slightest.

Given what he had found himself struggling through his late teens and seemingly all of his twenties, the relief of finally, finally, finally achieving some sort of steady stream of work and establishing himself as a serious actor provided relief that he could not be more grateful for.

He liked being able to turn down the $800 a month from his grandmother and moving out of his apartment for good this time, trading up for some swanky new town house in upper Manhattan. He liked being able to afford to be choosy about what jobs he took and he liked that he was able to split his time between stage and screen. Hell, he’d even tried his hand at directing some dumb indie film that landed him right smack dab in the middle of Sundance.

Which is when he found out he hated red carpets.

He absolutely hated the insincerity of all of it — the rushed interviews, the posing for what seemed like hours on end for photographs that he’d probably never even see and he wasn’t allowed to smile for exactly like he’d want to. He hated answering the same questions over and over again and rubbing elbows with reporters from tabloids asking about off screen romances and making it blatantly clear to him that they weren’t interested in the art he had just helped create.

Along the way, maybe five red carpet events into his career, he met you. To his surprise, he didn’t meet you through a mutual friend or at a party or by yelling at you to stop taking food from open containers in the store he was working in. He met you because he accidentally took your coffee on a Wednesday morning before you could grab it and you promptly chased him down 45th street and cussed him out by using every single insult you could manage.

And that’s when things just clicked for him.

Everything fell into place after you came into his life and suddenly he felt even more fulfilled than he originally figured was even possible. He liked coming home to you after long days on set or at the theater. He liked bringing you to see different projects he was working on during production or bringing you to advanced screenings or dress rehearsals. Whenever he got a script, you were the first one he talked to about whether or not to even try for the role. He never wanted to object you to the horror that was a red carpet.

Not until now, anyway.

It was the first time that you had happened to be available for one and, yeah, he had invited you to all of the ones he had been to since you had been together but he didn’t necessarily want to take you. Of all of the things in his world that he wanted to show you, premiere events were the one thing he wanted to shelter you from. You knew about the drinking, the philandering of his early to mid twenties, the string of psycho ex girlfriends who he swore might show up at your shared doorstep at any given time to rip him a new one. Despite all of that shit, you’d some how managed to still like him, love him even. He didn’t want to chase you away with the bullshit that came with his career.

Maybe this would be the straw that broke the camel’s back?

You’d said yes without hesitation and his stomach dropped. He knew you never turned down an excuse to dress up, to impress him and make him feel proud of the fact that you were his girl, just his. So, on the night of the Tony Awards, he sat in the hotel room his manager had reserved for the two of you to get ready with the help of a team of aestheticians and hair dressers and tailors watching you twirl in what was probably the most expensive ball gown you would ever wear in childlike delight. Music of your choice played softly on someone’s phone and you could hardly stay still enough for the finishing touches that were being pushed into your face. You looked and felt like a million bucks and Adam knew that, but how was he supposed to enjoy it? He was too preoccupied with figuring out what he would do if you freaked out on him, threatened to leave him or some shit, after the circus act you were about to parade through in order to get to your final destination of the night.

“You look handsome.” You called from the chair you had been forced into, eyes opened wide for quick swipes of mascara.

Adam was so far gone, lost in his thoughts and strapped with worry. He didn’t hear you compliment him. He didn’t see you get up and he felt as though the force of you slotting yourself between his slightly parted legs was a ghost of a touch. “Hey, doll.” He mumbled when he finally did notice you.

One of your eyebrows quirked up. “You good, Adam?”

He sensed some wavering in your voices, maybe some concern. Maybe some doubt? “I’m okay, just hate this shit.”

The other eyebrow followed the first. “What do you mean you hate this shit?” You ask as his publicist swept into the room and began to shoo the two of you out the door and down to stand for pictures and questions.

He held your hand tightly as you weaved down the hall and into the elevator. “I just don’t like this part.” He shrugged and you squeeze his hand as you listen. “Worried it’ll bug you as much as it bugs me.”

“I mean, I’d walk over hot coals to see you in a tux.” You teased, eyes bright. When he doesn’t shoot back with a response characteristic of his normally playful bravado, some of that brightness leaves your expression. “You know I’m just happy to be with you, right? I’m proud of you.”

Adam hummed in response and squeezed your hand back. “I know.”

You weren’t having his clipped answers. “I don’t care that there are going to be pictures or tons of people watching. You know that shit won’t make me think differently of you.”

He remained quiet after giving you another shrug, still completely scared out of his mind that your words were just that, words. That you’d hit the ground running and never look back as soon as you realized just what supporting him at these things entailed.

The silence lasted for the rest of the elevator ride, through the lobby, and in the limousine and in the little holding room they put you in that is riddled with all of the snacks he would tease you for indulging in had the circumstances been different. He was tense, his muscles tight, tight, tight from his jaw to his calves, knee bouncing and free hand clenching and unclenching right until the moment his name was called.

The moment wasn’t awful to begin with. It’s mostly pausing and stopping a lot of times for Adam to take pictures while you watch from the sidelines and, every so often, he pulls you in for a few. He doesn’t tell you that, in the moments he doesn’t have his arm around you, that isn’t kissing your cheek chastely and holding your hand, that he feels like he’s drowning.

It didn’t phase you as you listened to reporters hound him about his female costar and whether or not they were seeing each other. It really didn’t even phase you when one man asked you to “step aside” and referred to you as Adam’s friend, despite his tight grip on your waist and the tender glances his stole every twenty seconds or so. And honestly, you didn’t really care that you might have gotten jostled up a little bit by photographers and other reporters as you stepped aside, more than happy to speed up the process for Adam.

But Adam would not have that, not at all.

“We’re fuckin’ done.” Adam growled, his eyes locking on your face as soon as he noticed you stumble a bit. He left without another word to any of the reporters and looked for his publicist, who was beyond livid at the fact that Adam was blowing off his responsibilities without much of an explanation. Before he went up to him, he grabbed your hand and dragged you along with him, not saying another word.

After a hushed but tense back and forth between the two men, the three of you stepped out of the view of the public and quickly found one of the many green rooms for invited guests to cool down and touch up hair and make up before heading into the venue.

He paced and paced and paced for a long moment, leaving you to sit on the couch and watch with bated breath, praying that his older destructive tendencies didn’t suddenly find their way back to the surface of his psyche.

After a long while, you finally spoke. “Can you come here?” You whispered, eyes round and, to be frank, a bit desperate.

Adam came to you without a moment’s hesitation and knelt in front of you, placing his head in your lap and putting your hands in his hair. “Are you going to leave me tonight?” He mumbled into the tulle of your dress.

A soft smile crossed your lips and you shook your head, then moved to cup his cheeks and lift his face up to look at your own. “Now why would I even consider doing that?” You hummed.

“After that shit show? Any sane person would leave.”

“Whoever said I was sane? Isn’t that why you like me?”

He chuckled at that and nodded, biting back a comment about how anyone would have to be insane to want to stay with him for as long as you had. “That was just some totally bullshit and you know it, doll.”

You shrugged and shook your head once more. “Nothing I can’t handle, I’ve had my fair share of total bullshit with old haunts showing up on our doorstep, huh?” You made sure to keep your tone teasing, not wanting him to feel as though he needed to shoulder any of the blame for the situation.

Adam laughed again and relaxed visibly for the first time all night. “Do you want to even stay?” He asked, his own voice a bit more reassured.

“Of course I want to stay, you’re up for an award, dummy.” You giggle, letting your head fall back as he moved up to pepper your exposed neck with kisses and playful bites. “And there’s the after party — I heard there’s going to be some damn good desserts and music.”

He flashed you a smirk when he pulled back and stood, then offered his hand to you. “What is it you always say when I ask to eat out on the way home from shit?” He proposed.

You stood and took his hand, intertwining your fingers and squeezing before walking toward the door. “What do you mean?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Adam’s smirk only widened as he held the door open for you and smacked your ass before letting you go. “We have dessert at home.”

#Adam Sackler #Sackler #adam x reader #adam sackler x reader #sackler x reader #reader self insert #adam sackler fic #sackler fic #adcu #adcu reader insert #adcu fic

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plentyelegant · 3 years ago

Text

never mind about the shape I'm in, I'll keep you safe

(alternative title: Klaus just loves his baby sister send tweet)

Summary: After getting bested by their umpteenth threat to the world's continued existence, the siblings not only get scattered across the city, but their powers scattered amongst them. After waking up without his powers, a clue which of his siblings' powers he did have, or where his siblings actually were, Klaus starts looking for them... only to see possibly the most heartbreaking sight he could have imagined: Vanya, obviously burdened with his powers of seeing and hearing the dead... in a cemetery.

Words: 3.8k

Pairings: PLATONIC Klaus & Vanya (and some platonic Klaus & Allison near the end)

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort. Sensory overload/panic attack. Discussion of seeing/hearing ghosts. Mentions of death, drugs, and Reginald's abuse (The Mausoleum). One mention of insanity (klaus being worried his powers might drive vanya insane).

A/N: This is my first tua oneshot! I've been working on it since Friday because... well... the idea wouldn't leave me alone until I got it out in a fic. I actually did it instead of finally finishing s2, so... it might be a bit ooc? But I hope you like it! Title from "S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W by MCR. Based on the second addition of this post of mine. <3

---

Well, Klaus thought, isn’t this just swell?

“Swell” was probably, by far, one of the most inaccurate ways to describe this debacle that he could come up with. Just earlier that afternoon - Oh, what a nice afternoon it had been! - he and his siblings were dealing with some threat. Maybe it was more nefariousness from the Commission, maybe they were preventing the apocalypse of the week. Who knew? Who kept track, anyway, of the fires they’d been putting out?

(Well, Five probably did. But that wasn’t the point.)

But it just so happened that this fire they’d been putting out had been able to best them and scatter them across the city. What’s more, this fire wasn’t an ordinary fire, but one like themselves, or that chameleon-esque one from the 60s. Maybe that fire had intended to erase or absorb their powers, and the act had been botched, or this was their intent all along. It didn’t matter, really; all that mattered was that this fire managed to give his and his siblings’ powers a whole switcheroo before scattering them.

(Alright, metaphors aside, it wasn’t a fire. It was a villain.)

Klaus’ only reassurance that their powers hadn’t been erased entirely (or taken by the villain for themself) was that, after they’d sent a blast out at him and all of his siblings, leaving the six positively reeling, Klaus had seen a very confused Luther start “blipping” everywhere, ala Five’s teleportation, before they’d all been scattered. Oddly enough, he’d been grateful for seeing that; if Luther had Five’s powers, it stood to reason that each of them had the power of another sibling instead of their own… right?

Well, it was what Klaus was going with.

But when he came to without any of his siblings around, a clue where they were, or that power-swapper in sight, he decided against trying to figure out which of their powers had been thrown at him. He may not have been the smartest of the bunch (that was either Five or Allison, really. Probably Allison. Yeah, it was Allison.), but even he knew it would have probably been a bad idea to see if he could control things’ directions like Diego, or rumor things into existence (or nonexistence) like Allison, or make use of Luther’s super strength.

And he could only imagine the catastrophe that might come about if he tried to use Vanya’s powers. The only one who knew how to best handle them was Vanya herself. And even she wasn’t exactly well-acquainted with them!

No, no, no. The best plan - if he could call whatever the fuck he was improvising a plan, which just didn’t seem like the right thing to do - was to find the others, figure out who had whose powers, and realize which one he had through process of elimination.

Speaking of elimination, as Klaus searched through the streets for where the other five ended up, he’d at least been content with the power-swapping ensuring that he wasn’t hounded by the dead as he attempted to round up his siblings. Silence from the ghosts was a pleasantry he’d never quite been used to, especially silence that hadn’t come along with either being as high as a kite or drunk as a skunk. At least, it made it easier to look for the others.

“Allison!” he called out as he walked the streets, “Vanya! Diego!”

Of course, sober or not, he still drew stares from passers by as he called their names. That was fine. He just had to find them as soon as he could. They couldn’t have been far!

(Well, they very well could have, but right now, Klaus took quite a liking to trying to reassure himself through falsehoods so he didn’t panic. It was fun.)

After an hour or two of searching fruitlessly for his brothers and sisters, he eventually turned into a lesser-populated street of town - a street which harbored a cemetery.

He winced at the sight of the large plot. He always hated going into graveyards; they only bombarded him with ghosts (which he’d never forgotten Reginald taking advantage of with that fucking mausoleum). Of course, the dead couldn’t do much to him now, since he’d been stripped (or relieved?) of his usual powers that afternoon, but that didn’t stop him from grimacing.

But his grimace fell when he saw someone in a patch of trees far off on the opposite side of the property from where he’d stood outside it’s gates.

“Oh no,” he mumbled to himself as he shook his head, “Oh, no, no, nononono-”

He wished he was mistaken in thinking he recognized that quivering little frame, curled up against a tree with her forehead against her knees as she kept them close to her chest; he wished he didn’t recognize her all-black outfit from earlier, or her brown hair which she’d had her hands dug into as she covered her ears.

He’d recognized that posture all too well. Not from her, but from himself; from his days locked in the dark of that mausoleum, trying to cover his ears to block everything out and make himself small, because he felt small - and he was, he was just a kid - and curling into a ball because he’d had no one there to hold him but himself.

It was Vanya.

Vanya had his powers.

...And she got dropped in a fucking cemetery.

“Oh, fuck!”

Klaus half-ran, half-stumbled into the graveyard. Thankfully, it was nearly empty, and the few people there paid no attention when he ran across the yard, dodging and hurdling over headstones when he’d needed to. He’d dodged them on instinct and reflex alone, because all he could think about was that scared little ball up against that tree. He didn’t try to call to her; not only was he almost out of breath, but he feared that trying to call her name while she didn’t see him would just add to the bombardment of voices that no doubt rang out in her head.

As he got closer, the sight just became more and more heartbreaking, but it was at its worst when he’d gotten right in front of her, and he could hear her sobs.

“Go away.” she pleaded, a little muffled with how her head had been ducked behind her knees, “Please, please just go away.”

Klaus knew she wasn’t talking to him, but the ghosts. She wasn’t even aware of his presence yet. And he couldn’t let that stand, so he dropped to his knees and put his hand on her arm.

“Vanya-”

“NO!” she jerked away from his hand with a sob. He didn’t blame her - he would have done the same, after being left alone with the ghosts for…

...Oh, fuck, it had been hours since they’d been scattered. Hours since she’d ended up here. In a cemetery. With overwhelming powers of seeing the dead. Alone.

“Vanya!” he said louder, trying to speak over the ghosts if he could have. Gently, instead of putting a hand on her arm again, he placed both his hands on her shoulders.

Finally, her head snapped up, and when he saw those big brown eyes shine with tears that hadn’t already joined the others that streamed down her face, it took all Klaus had in him not to start crying too. Instead, he just put his hands over hers. It wouldn’t do much to actually deafen the ghosts, but he hoped it at least gave her some comfort.

“It’s me, Vanny.” he said, hoping she’d hear it, or at least know what he was saying, “It’s just me.”

Her lips, which had been relaxed as they trembled from shock, contorted into a grimace.

She hugged Klaus so tightly that it almost winded him. Even with her powers being as incredible as they were, he always got surprised at how much physical force could be inside one little violinist. Still, he hugged her back, tight enough to reassure her while not making her feel restrained. No one really hugged him when the ghosts got too strong before, but if they did, this was how he would have liked it.

Klaus could feel Vanya grab fistfuls of the back of his shirt and hold them in what he aptly assumed was a white-knuckled grip. That was alright, he was just glad she hadn’t scratched him in the process.

“There’s-” she started, her head nestled against the crook of his shoulder, her voice shaking, so little, “There’s - there’s so many of them-”

Even though she couldn’t really see it, he tried to smile reassuringly.

“Ohhh,” He tried to make his voice as reassuring as the smile she couldn’t see. “Don’t pay any mind to those silly gooses, Vanny. All their snarling and shrieking’s just for show.”

Klaus could hear her sniffle against his shoulder.

“...Geese.”

Klaus twisted his neck a little to look at what was visible of Vanya’s face, “Hm?”

Vanya picked her head up a bit.

“Not gooses.” she said, her voice strained and her eyes red, both obvious byproducts of crying as she was bombarded by the spirits of the dead in a cemetery for hours, “Geese.”

Klaus rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. Of course, of all the things that helped ground her, it was correcting his grammar. Still, he took what he could get.

“Oh, so you write one bestseller, and now you know everything about grammar, don’cha?” he said, smiling and giggling when he’d finished so she’d hopefully know he’d been trying to be lighthearted.

Apparently, it worked, because a smile twitched at the corners of her lips, and she laughed a hoarse little laugh…

...until her little smile fell, and that laugh turned into more shaking breaths again, getting deeper and deeper until she gasped with every breath.

Oh, no.

Of course, it hadn’t grounded or distracted her for long; she hugged him tighter and nestled her head against his shoulder again. But this time, she screamed against his shoulder, a sound that wasn’t made one bit less heart-shattering by being muffled. As he tried to stop his own lips from trembling and his own eyes from watering, he just hugged her tighter.

“Shhhh, it’s okay, Vanny, it’s okay.” he said, his shushing more to sooth her than to actually make her be quiet, which he knew wouldn’t work the moment she shrieked again, “You’re okay. Just focus on this. Just on me.”

“I can’t.” she choked out, “I can’t - I can’t do it - I can’t-”

As hysteric as she was… Klaus knew she was right; she couldn’t withstand this. Not for much longer. Even after almost thirty years with the ghosts, he still had a hard time keeping them at bay. For years, he couldn’t. That’s why he’d started the drugs. But even his experience with the ghosts all his life, as nightmarish as it had been, was nowhere near as bad as what had been thrust upon Vanya. He, at least, had ways to withstand it, or keep it drowned out. Vanya didn’t have that.

And it was killing her.

It was killing his baby sister.

Maybe it wasn’t killing her, but without a way to quiet it, or keep it at bay, Klaus didn’t have any doubt that… that it could drive her mad. He feared it for himself, some days in his childhood, but that fear became so much more real - and so much worse - as his sister shook in his arms.

“Klaus. Please. Help me.”

But he didn’t know how.

She was in too much hysterics to walk out of here, and he wasn’t strong enough to carry her. He didn’t have any drugs on him either - even if he did, he was not going to give them to Vanya; there was no way in hell he was going to fuck her up like that. She didn’t have any of the mood regulators she used to take, either, which might have dampened the ghost-seeing powers just like they did her moon-blow-uppy powers before.

He didn’t know what to do. His little sister was in pain and terrified and he didn’t know how to make it go away.

...He had an idea.

There was one thing he could try - something he’d wished and asked fruitlessly for often when he was little. He didn’t know if it would work, but he didn’t know for sure that it wouldn’t work, either. If it could help Vanya, it was worth a shot.

“Vanny, I have an idea,” he pulled his arms away, “But you have to trust me, okay?’

He felt her head move in a frantic nod.

“I do, I do, I do, just - just do something -”

He put his hands on her arms and gently pulled them away and pushed her back a bit so she was right in front of him, and he could look into her eyes. He didn’t know if eye contact was necessary for this, but why risk messing it up if it was?

He took a deep breath and said something he wished countless times to hear as a child; something he’d probably look really, really stupid for saying if this didn’t work, and he didn’t get the power that he really, really hoped he did.

“I heard a rumor that the ghosts went away.”

…Vanya’s eyes clouded over.

Klaus didn’t think he’d ever felt so relieved in his life. Not even after he’d been brought out of the mausoleum, or when he’d needed anaesthetics to wire his jaw shut after he fell down the stairs, and he realized that drugs shut the ghosts up. No, this was more of a relief than all of that, guaranteed.

After a few seconds, Vanya’s eyes cleared up, going from milky white back to their normal brown. Immediately, she closed them as she brought her hands to the sides of her head, her little frame sagging with fatigue.

“Did it work?” he asked with a tilt of his head. Letting out a deep breath, she nodded.

“Thank you…” she mumbled, exhaustion evident in her voice as she opened her eyes, though her eyelids were heavy.

Klaus smiled again.

“Pure luck, Vanny.” he said, “That’s all that was.”

“Mhm…” she nodded a little, sleepy nod before her eyes fell shut and her head lolled to the side…

And the rest of her body followed.

Though she was still kneeling, and it wouldn’t have hurt much if she hit the ground, Klaus still caught her as she fell unconscious, keeping her back and neck supported as best he could as he gently laid her on the ground next to the tree she’d been curled up against. Of course she collapsed; he knew how exhausting this must have been for her.

So, Vanya has my powers, I have Allison’s, and…

Klaus thought back to earlier, when he’d seen Luther frantically blipping around.

...Luther has Five’s. Great.

Well, it wasn’t like he could go searching for the others and figure out where the other three powers ended up. Vanya, laying flat on her back in the shade, was already dead to the world, and would probably be for a while yet, and Klaus would never just leave her here. Also, since he didn’t exactly have Luther-like super strength (or, depending on who got it in the switch… Allison-like? Diego-like? Five-like? Oh, now that would be rich.), or as much upper body strength as he’d like, he couldn’t carry her out.

No… the best thing to do was wait here. Whether he was waiting for one of the others to find him, or for Vanya to wake up, or for someone to kick the both of them out when the graveyard closed, he wasn’t sure. But he knew he’d wait right there for one of those things… preferably any but the latter.

Resigned and relieved, he moved over to sit up against the tree, next to his sleeping sister. With his back against the bark, he let his head loll back. Until now, he hadn’t realized how exhausted he’d been in all of this, after walking the streets for hours, running to poor Vanya, and finding her as he did…

It had been a full afternoon, and he decided resting his eyes for a bit wouldn’t hurt.

---

Klaus was lured back into the realm of the conscious by the sound of voices.

“There they are!” he’d heard.

No, not the voices of the dead he usually heard. Those would be with Vanya when (if at all) that rumor wore off (and honestly, he hoped it wouldn’t).

No, it was the voices of his siblings.

“Klaus!” he heard Five’s ever-snippety tone.

“Vanya!” he heard the worry in Allison’s voice.

He opened his eyes to see the rest of his siblings coming towards them; Allison and Five, who he heard moments before, as well as Diego and Luther. He let out a sigh. Thank fuck. He’d been worried that he might get kicked out first, as that would’ve been his luck.

It didn’t take long for them to make their way over to them.

“What happened-” Luther started, a little loud due to his concern. So it didn’t wake Vanya (or disturb nearby mourners), Klaus brought a finger to his lips and shushed him.

He pointed down to Vanya, still sleeping at his side, and put up his hands - and their ouija board-esque tattoos - in a flourish, a clear gesture saying that Vanya had his powers.

They all got it immediately.

“What about you guys?” he whispered.

“Well,” Allison started, still glancing at Vanya. “After I tried seeing if I could control where things I threw went, I figured out I had Diego’s powers.”

She nodded to Diego as he stood behind her, looking over her shoulder to stare down at Vanya with a troubled gaze, which almost looked… restrained, as if he was trying to keep his emotions at bay.

“I landed by a lake, so it was easy to find out with skipping stones.” she explained. Of course, leave it to Allison to find the most practical way to deduct which power she’d gotten.

(It must have been fun holding the family’s brain cell.)

“And after a few broken streetlamps,” Five announced, hands in his pockets, “Figured it would be best if Diego here kept a cool head for a while.”

So, he’s got Vanya’s powers. Klaus figured out. Makes sense.

It didn’t, but none of this did. Nothing in their lives ever did.

“And it took a bit to find Luther when he kept blipping across the street every time he sneezed.” Allison said, eyeing a very sheepish Luther behind her.

“Sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“That means…” Five trailed off.

Klaus nodded.

“I’m all…” he brought up his hands and wiggled his fingers, “rumory.”

Allison looked between him and Vanya. “Did you use it?”

Klaus nodded again.

“Just to get the ghosts off her back.” he assured, looking down at his sister, “Ohhh, they just terrified poor Vanny. She was crying her eyes out when I found her.”

He looked back up at them.

“She alright now?” Diego asked. Either he was doing a terrible job at keeping his worry for Vanya out of his voice, or he wasn’t trying at all.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, she’s fine.” He waved his hand as nonchalantly as he could manage, as if it didn’t feel weird to talk about how “fine” his sister was after he found her crying her eyes out. “She’s just… out. She ended up passing out all on her own.” He shrugged and shook his head. “Wasn’t me, or the rumor. She was just tuckered out, poor thing.”

Five walked forward until he was right in front of Vanya, crouched down, put one arm under her back and one under her legs, and - much to Klaus’ surprise - lifted her with no trouble. Klaus’ eyes widened at the sight, and his eyebrows raised.

“Super strength.” he said, completely and utterly matter of fact.

Oh. Klaus held back a grin and stifled a giggle. Of course.

“Which means,” he grit his teeth, “it won’t be hard to throw one of these headstones at you if you let out that laugh you’re doing a shit job at holding back.”

Keeping a poker face, Klaus put up a thumbs-up.

“Come on.” Five turned around, “Let’s figure this out.”

Five started to lead the pack of power-mismatched siblings out of the cemetery, and even though he wasn’t sure where they were going, Klaus followed where Five was leading. That always took him and his siblings to the most lovely destinations, didn’t it?

He ended up falling in stride with Allison, who kept looking at the ground.

“So…” she lifted her head back up and looked at him, “You used a rumor on her?”

Even though she’d already asked that, Klaus nodded.

“If there’s one thing I know, Allie,” he started, “it’s how bad the ghosts are. Especially somewhere like…”

He gestured around them.

“...this. I felt pretty out of options, really. I didn’t even know I had it. Pure luck - that’s what we usually run on, right? Luck, I think, is the lifeblood of the Hargreeves.”

“You sure it’s not things going wrong?” she asked. Klaus shrugged.

“Hey,” he said, “the family can have two lifebloods.”

Allison seemed to agree. “God knows we need it.’

After another moment or so of walking, she laughed a little laugh - not really a laugh, but close enough to one that any other word would have been too inaccurate.

“I remember…” She let her gaze fall to the ground. “When we were kids, you’d always ask me to use it. All the time. When we’d come back from missions, when you’d have nightmares, when Dad let you out of…”

She didn’t finish that thought. Instead, she shook her head.

“...and I never did. I wanted to, but-”

“Alliiie, you don’t have to explain yourself.” He waved it off with a shrug, “I get it! Dear ol’ Dad would’ve lost his marbles. I never held that against you, and neither-” he put his hand on her shoulder, “should you.”

Allison nodded before she said…

“It might not wear off.”

Klaus gasped, putting a hand over his mouth.

“Oh, nooo! That's... the opposite of a problem!”

Allison rolled her eyes.

“Klaus...”

“Come ooon.” he said, “Seeing ghosts all the time is, surprisingly enough, not all it’s cracked up to be. Kinda spooky, actually.”

“I'm just saying,” she said, a little exasperated by her brother’s sarcasm, “It might be permanent. Even when we do get our powers switched back. Sometimes… rumors stick around for a while.”

“Well…” he winced, “I guess we’ll just burn that bridge when we get to it.”

“You mean cross that bridge?”

At that exact moment, they both heard a loud sneeze and whipped their heads forward at Luther - or at least, where he was. Much to the other four’s exasperation (Vanya didn’t respond, as she was still asleep), he’d blipped across the graveyard.

“...Nope.”

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #mine #tua #tua fanfic #klaus hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #my writing #allison hargreeves #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #five hargreeves

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graceverse · 3 years ago

Text

Yeah ok, you asked for it.

An Unexpected Invitation

Part 2

He had never really, truly known silence. Even when he was alone, there is always that buzzing sound inside his head. Sometimes if he listened closely enough it would sound like the sharpest blade slicing through silk and flesh. Or if not that, then the softest exhale of a last dying breath; or the whispering sound of snow falling on snow.

There’s a Japanese word for that, shinshin.

One of the few things that he actually liked about this god forsaken country: the beauty of his own language. Though he so very rarely used it in all the years that he had spent in China, he was pleased that it was not lost to him. Unlike everything else that tied him to his motherland.

Not that China as a country is any better than Japan, but at least it wasn’t filled with ghosts that haunted him. And they were many; all the ghosts inside his head. Tomoe was just one of them. He wasn’t bothered by it. She’d smile at him inside his head and everything else would just fade away. It was just her and her smile and he was content.

Yukishiro Enishi had not expected any kind of silence inside his cell, which unfortunately faced the alleyway that the police used to move captured criminals, either in and out of the prison. There was always someone unruly, heavily protesting the indignation of being bound and dragged inside the building. If it wasn’t that it was pitiful wailing, asking for forgiveness, begging for another chance. Worst were the angry screams of denial, the insistence of their innocence. It annoyed him endlessly.

Reading Oneesan’s diary diminished the vulgar noises hounding him. With her diary clutched in his hand, it was just him and her words. He would gently turn the pages, trace the ink on paper and as he read it, he hear his sister’s voice. It calmed him down. Most of the time, at least. There had been a night of pure rage and the agony; finding out how his sister had hidden her true heart from him. He’d slammed his fist against the walls, banged his head until he thought it would crack open and all of his craziness will just spill out from his split head.

Why, neesan? Why couldn’t you have trusted me enough to let me know what you were planning?

But it had only been the briefest of moments where he felt betrayed. In the end, even with Tomoe’s diary, nothing could waver his conviction of his sister’s faultlessness in everything that had happened to them. Neesan had taken care of him ever since he could remember, his first memories had been of her touch, her eyes, her voice singing lullabies well into the night. She had tried to make everything better and she had the courage to marry the man that had slain her own love. But she had ultimately been too soft, too trusting. She had a woman’s kind and gentle heart and had allowed Battousai’s despicable lies to change her resolve for vengeance.

Would it have made any difference if he had known what neesan had really felt?

He doubted it. The mere presence of Battousai in their life invited danger and death. And he remembered how it made him feel so deeply ashamed that the hitokiri was living with his sister, tainting her with the blood of his victims.

There was no reason for him to feel deceived by his beloved neesan. Battousai would have, one way or another, caused her death. It doesn’t matter how. Testament to this was the fact that even now, despite having distorted himself into the foolishness of a rurouni – a shameful farce of trying to atone for his sins – the woman he had chosen, the Kamiya girl that Enishi had taken and failed to kill, had been subjected to several abductions and all sorts of regrettable torture. From almost choking to death from Udō Jin-e’s curse to nearly drowning when she’d been thrown out of The Rengoku, Battousa had turned her into a target. One that he had not been able to properly protect.

How many times had Battousai failed that woman? More times that Enishi could care count.

Battosai was cursed. All the lives that he touches, he befouls. And eventually, he does not even have to wield his joke of a sword, in the end, they will all turn into nothing but torn silk and spilled blood against pristine white snow.

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

It didn’t take long for the Mibu Wolf to come and visit him. They had taken him to a room barely lighted by the lone overhead lantern, madly swinging and throwing dark shadows around him. He would have snorted at this childish game that Saitō Hajime, now known as Fujita Gorō, had chosen to play. Did he think that he was someone that could be so easily intimidated? Did he need any reminder of what he was capable of, weaponless except for a child’s toy, on the trin when he had allowed to arrest him? Or was this some sort of insult that he was supposed to angrily respond to?

Enishi felt no emotion to be honest, even when Saitō started laying down all the documents that he had been able to confiscate from wherever he’d gotten them. It wasn’t until a signed confession from the useless Heishin that Enishi felt just a twinge of irritation. He should have bashed that bastard’s skull.

Wordlessly, he picked the paper, idly glancing at it before tossing it back, silently fluttering to the floor.

The wolf bared his teeth.

Did the government ordered the ever-reliable Fujita-san to ask him the names of all the ten battleships that he had? Because Shishio’s Rengoku was the smallest of those ships. Shishio Makoto was all fight and salivating insanity but he hardly had any money to sustain his quest for war. Enishi had practically given that battleship for free and it was purely out of curiosity. He had gotten into so much trouble with the Chinese organization that helped him obtain those ships. He had to pay it out of his own pocket but it was all worth it.

He had wanted to see just how far Shishio could get in a fight with Battousai. Not so much as it turned out. He couldn’t even properly bomb Tokyo as he had wanted to. It was all so very disappointing but not in the least bit surprising. These Hitokiri’s were mere berserkers, nothing refined in the way they planned their attacks. To defeat their enemy was all, kill, kill, kill and it bored him.

He kept his silence as Saitō explained how he had taken him this long to piece together everything that he needed to ensure that Yukishiro Enishi will be tried as a spy, a traitor to the Meiji Government and for that, they both know that the punishment is death.

Blah blah blah blah

Did the ex-captain of the Shinsengumi (first squad – he made you remember that at least, like it was supposed to mean something to anyone) now a special agent for the Meiji Government's Department of Internal Affairs, really think that he would be bothered by his impending death? Or a lifetime of imprisonment? Anything that they throw at him would only be a shadow of what he had gone through in Shanghai. The years of suffering from hunger and humiliation, disease and violence, training on his own to perfect his own fighting style?

Enishi was prepared to die and meet his sister once again.

Unless, and here, the cunning wolf flicked his still lit cigarette – a foul thing – over Enishi’s shoulder, the heat and ashes leaving a trail against his cheeks. He would kill him for that, Enishi thought, unblinkingly.

And then, the wolf leaned forward to tempt the tiger.

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

Freshly released from prison, all of his papers proving the pardon so generously afforded to him by a government desperate to stop another war shoved inside the pocket of his jacket, Enishi calmly shook any traces of gunpowder residue from his hands. His now emptied warehouse (damn, the government for confiscating everything) was lighted with flames that will spread quickly enough. It would be a massive fire and Fujita-san would probably disapprove, but he did not, quite frankly, give a fuck.

He kept his head low, unhurriedly weaving in and out the crowd, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. His height has some disadvantages, true but he was still weaponless and without his watō slung against his shoulder, he looked like the usual foreigner traipsing around Tokyo, not a care in the world.

The Mibu Wolf will only give him his sword back if he could get the Kamiya-girl to agree. And something tells Enishi that this was really more to piss off Battousai than anything else. What a tiring game these two old fools were playing, but he will play along. He had nothing else to do anyway. And besides, his watō was at stake. He could probably just steal it from, escape Japan and just live out his life somewhere far from this madness but then, where’s the fun in that?

He had allowed himself a leisurely walk towards the dojo, the constant sound of summer surrounding him: tiny voices of children playing inside their yard, underneath the shaded trees; parents calling out for a refreshing sip of cold water; that buzzing sound inside his head.

He always had sensitive hearing, a secret weapon that he had incorporated to his Watōjutsu. It was a source of pride, how this swordskill is known only to him and how it could have finally defeated Battousai had that stupid Heishin ruined his plan. Kami, if the wolf had not killed him yet, he would be looking for him soon enough.

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

Enishi stood by the familiar entryway of the dojo, tilted his head and confirmed the only presence inside. He pushed the wooden gate and wordlessly walked inside, heading straight to the engawa, where for the first time in his entire life, he hears nothing but silence as he stared down at the Kamiya girl sprawled on the floor, napping it seemed.

Her dark hair was fanned around her face, not in a flattering way, to be honest. But the contrast of her hair and her skin and the peach-colored kimono she was wearing, riding a little high on her legs, exposing her knees, made her look almost --- precious.

No, no. He shook his head. Not precious, but so exposed and vulnerable. He glanced around him. No bokken in sight. And defenseless. Again, Battousai had left her like this? This supposed ruruoni must be addle-brained and as inept as Heishin. They both deserve to die.

But yes, how odd. Enishi thought, not even the sound of their breathing. Because he was certain that they were both breathing. He could feel the steady beating of his heart and as he squinted at her prone form, the rise and fall of her chest was quite obvious in her partially opened kimono.

The sight offered him a brief distraction and he had been just the tiniest bit surprised when she suddenly woke up and threw a tea cup at him.

Maybe not so vulnerable and defenseless then.

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

She was feisty. He hadn’t known that she had it in her to fight like that. Clumsily and rather slow, but it could be that she was wearing a kimono, restricting her movement. He could not find fault in her fighting stance and with the way she swung her bokken, with outmost conviction, Enishi was certain she could lay waste to Heishin's pathetic bodyguards. Her skills were better than theirs at least and this was probably the highest compliment he was forced to give to a girl.

Her battle cry was also impressive. It brought back his hearing at least.

Now he could hear every whistling sound the bokken made as it sliced through the air; her panting breath, the way she muttered curses at him.

She was so very, very angry and he had done absolutely nothing to her but ask her if was already married. A rather important detail that he needed confirmation on if was really going to follow through with the wolf's sadistic plan.

Enishi needed her to calm down otherwise, he’d be forced to defend himself and then he would end up straddling, arms pinned above her – because that was the only way to get her to stop trying to hit him. Being motherless and growing up with his sister, Enishi thought he knew how to handle women or at least girls. But this Kamiya-girl, with her angry breathing and needless cursing was quite a surprise. The women he had dealt with in China were really almost similar to the women in Japan: docile and soft spoken, but apparently not this woman.

Was this the ruruoni’s choice? Or the Battousai? Enishi wondered if her violent temper triggered something in his worthless brother-in-law, because he could not understand how exactly did anyone take her so easily when she was like this?!

Another swing from her bokken and that was just an inch away from his nose.

The triumphant gleam in her eyes told him that she was aware of this and to prevent any further violence, Enishi finally stepped forward, which she must have taken as gesture of surrender, because she met him head on, bokken raised high on her head.

He grabbed it easily, tossing it away and wondering if he would have to break every damn bokken inside this training hall just to make her stop. Curiously, he asked her, without his formulated explanation because, really, he had forgotten everything that he had been planning to tell her, if she had wanted to go to Shanghai with him – well, it effectively shut her up, her whole body suddenly immobilized by surprise.

He let two seconds pass before he provoked her yet again with, “Is that a yes, Kamiya-san?”

Her eyes blazed and then, completely out of nowhere and totally unprepared for it, her fist connected with his nose.

It knocked off his eyeglasses and now ---- now he is pissed.

------

So I guess, tbc?!

#you made me do it #now this story is stuck inside my head #rurouni kenshin fanfic #rurouni kenshin #post the final #movieverse fic #k/k #e/k/k #enishi x kaoru #kenshin x kaoru x enishi love triangle of death #yeah tell me i suck okay i do i know

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artificialqueens · 3 years ago

Text

Carousel (Taywhora) - Plegdoctor

A/N: Right, so fun fact about me, the first drag race fic I ever wrote was actually an Aquaria/Cracker one. It was going to be a high school au but I never ended up finishing it. I recently found it and reread it and found this one scene where they all go to the fair together. So this is a rewrite of a fic that never was! I've obviously had to change some bits to fit the UK2 girls but a lot of it is word for word what I wrote in that little notebook years ago. So yeah, enjoy!

Aurora shivered and wrapped her leather jacket tighter around herself. The cool air of the early winter night fluttered through her hair, threading the blonde strands into a tangle. Lights flashed around her, so bright that she could still see them when she closed her eyes.

Although it was cold, she was comfortable. Content. She could hear the music blaring from various rides and stands, the screams of children and the laughter of teens, the chattering of adults. The air was full of food, candyfloss sugar and savoury smells of greasy burgers and hotdogs that would leave her with a stomach ache for two days.

Best of all, the air was electric. There was an energy like no other fizzing across the atmosphere as she looked at her friends with a smile.

Lawrence had dragged Ellie onto the dodgems, despite desperate protestations from the taller girl. And then of course Lawrence had to challenge Tia to a duel of sorts on the damned things, so Tia had persuaded Veronica to go with her and prove the Scot wrong. She could see them now, Ellie’s blonde hair all over Lawrence’s shoulder as she squealed and cuddled into her.

She was going to miss this.

“Look at those two. Bloody disgusting.”

She didn’t even jump as the voice appeared beside her, the smooth Welsh accent already giving it’s owner away. She held her hand out expectantly, pleased when a bag of candyfloss was placed in it.

“They’re so lovesick. It’s cute. Talking of lovesick, where are Bim and Asttina?”

Tayce sighed. “I think they’re still googling whether candyfloss is vegan or not. I told Bims it was because it’s just sugar but they weren’t convinced.”

Aurora held back a giggle and shivered again. Tayce frowned slightly.

“You cold?”

“A little. I’ll be alright when we get moving again.”

“Right. Who’s winning this duel anyway?”

Aurora snorted. “Fuck knows babe, I’m pretty sure Tia and Lawrence have both committed various war crimes while Ellie and Veronica are just trying to stay alive.”

“Well I’ll warm you up while we wait.” Tayce said, slinging an arm around Aurora’s shoulders and pulling her in close. Aurora sighed and snuggled into her friend, her heartrate increasing with the close proximity. She could feel the soft material of Tayce’s coat, count her steady heartbeat, smell the mixture of her expensive floral perfume and the cheap sugar on her breath.

Aurora could’ve stayed there forever, getting drunk on Tayce’s touch.

“We might wanna go back on guys, we shouldn’t interrupt this sexual tension.” Her peace was cut short by a thick Scottish accent.

She sighed. Tayce simply laughed. “Wind your neck in Lozza, let’s not pretend you didn’t take Ellie on that ride just so she’d be pressed up against you.” She called out playfully, her grip not leaving Aurora’s shoulders.

“Get to fuck Tayce, as if I would lower my standards.” She replied, Ellie giving a little cry of indignation from where she was hanging off her arm.

“That’s not what you told me last night, hen.” She teased, the girls erupting into screams of laughter.

They stumbled through the fair together, arms linked as they all shouted along to the tacky music being played. Bimini and Asttina joined them eventually, Asttina carrying Bimini on her back to “give them the experience of being tall.” Eventually they came to a stop in front of the carousel where Ellie gave a gasp of delight and immediately begged them all to go on it.

They dug through their pockets for the £1 needed, handing it to the bored looking man. Ellie immediately found a pure white horse with a pink saddle and clambered onto it, pulling Lawrence up behind her. Bimini and Asttina chose a blue and grey one, while Veronica and Tia predictably end up on a horse with a green saddle.

Aurora circled the horses a few times, scrutinising them.

“It’s not a house you’re looking for Rory, just get on a horse.” Ellie yelled from where she was, Lawrence’s arms around her middle as her head rested on her fluffy pink jacket.

“Here, this one is good.” Tayce said from atop a black and gold one. She reached out a hand to Aurora who took it. She wrapped her arms around her, her head fitting perfectly in the crevice of her shoulder.

“You’re comfy.” She murmured into Tayce’s neck.

“Girls! Picture!” Tia called behind her, holding up her phone as they all smiled at the camera. Aurora’s eyes flicked to the side to see Tayce sticking her tongue out and threw her head back in laughter.

“Did you get my whole outfit in there, Tia?”

“Els, babe, I don’t know how I couldn’t, I’m surprised Lawrence managed to hold onto you.”

“Think you’ll find I’m very good at holding onto her.” Lawrence’s voice was muffled by the fur of Ellie’s jacket. Aurora giggled at Asttina’s fake retch.

“Hold on tight you hound.” Aurora obeyed Tayce’s whispered command immediately, lacing her fingers together over Tayce’s stomach as the music started and the ride started moving.

She wished the ride would never end, savouring the cries of joy from Tayce like they were her favourite sweet. A pang of jealously struck through her heart when she saw Tia in front of them, leaning down to drop a kiss on Veronica’s head that was resting on her chest. Briefly she caught eye contact with Tayce and ripped her eyes away, loosening her grip as a blush spread under her foundation.

“Why’ve you let go Rory? We can’t have you falling off and dying.” Tayce adjusted her hands to once again be tightly looped on her waist. Aurora momentarily stopped breathing.

They remained that way until the ride stopped and they all clambered down from their respective horses. Bimini was back on Asttina’s back while Tia tried to convince Veronica that she was strong enough to carry her like that. Veronica vehemently rejected the idea as Aurora laughed at her friends, her hand entwined with Tayce’s.

People have always told Aurora how brave she is. Brave to wear clashing patterns (yet still make them work), brave to be the first in her friendship group in year five to get the bus alone, brave to be able to talk to anyone. But she doesn’t believe them. If Aurora were as brave as people have told her she is, she would be able to tell Tayce about how she feels.

She has spent many nights curled up in bed, hugging a pillow to her chest as she imagines letting the words spill from her mouth and into Tayce’s heart. The scenarios all have different outcomes. Sometimes Tayce laughed. Harshly, cruelly, softly, disbelievingly. Sometimes she swept Aurora into her arms and dipped her down low, her long fingers curled into Aurora’s blonde hair as she desperately pressed their lips together. Sometimes she gently let Aurora down, promising that they could still be friends.

That one always hurt the worst.

Who would want to be just friends with the girl that they’ve been in love with for two years?

The question spins her head for the rest of the night, until they’ve moved on from the rides and the food and are hanging around the games.

“Maybe someone will win a goldfish.” She suggested idly, wrapped up with Bimini in Tia’s massive puffer jacket. Bimini shook their head from beside her.

“No one gets fish at fairs babe, that’s like an American thing innit.”

“Well how would I know, do I look American?”

“We’ve been coming here since year seven, you would’ve thought you’d learn by now.”

Aurora huffed, her breath coming out as a harsh mist. “I can live in hope that one day I’ll go home with a new pet that my mum can’t say no to.”

“Bold of you to assume you’d win a goldfish; you can barely hook a duck.” Tia called goadingly to her. Aurora rose immediately to the bait.

“I can so hook a duck! Come on slags, we’re going to the hook-a-duck!” Her battle cry rose into the air as she strode in the general direction of the stall, Bimini hopping to keep up.

It emerges that Tia is, unfortunately, right. Aurora is shit at hook-a-duck.

“How can you be bad at hooking a duck? They’re literally right in front of you.” Ellie wondered out loud, leaning on Lawrence as they watched three of their friends hanging over the wooden slats as they poked sticks at floating rubber ducks. Lawrence let out a bark of laughter, and Veronica on her other side spluttered.

“It’s not as easy as it fucking looks!” Aurora threw back, stretching her arm until her shoulder almost popped from its socket.

She pulled back, dejected, and turned around to admit defeat. “Alright Tia, you win this time.”

“You’re great at many things Aurora, but hand eye coordination is not one of them.” Tia replied calmly as Aurora rolled her eyes.

“It’s alright Rory. Look I won this for you.” Tayce pressed a doll into her hands as Aurora spun it in her hands, looking at it with interest. It had blonde hair like hers, done up in a bun the way she wore it all through year eight. It’s dress was green, leaf shaped, with matching wings in the back.

“Tinkerbell?”

“Yep. She reminds me of you.”

“Aww.’ Aurora flushed pink with a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment at Tayce’s words. ‘Why, because I’m just as gorgeous as her?” She suggested, batting her eyelashes jokingly and curling herself around Tayce’s arm. Tayce looked down at her, a glint in her eye.

“Not exactly.”

“Well why then?”

Tayce’s laugh sent the butterflies in Aurora’s stomach insane. “Because she needs attention or she dies.”

“Oh piss off.” She giggled, nudging the taller girl with her hip as the rest of their friends laughed into the open night sky.

She stayed at Tayce’s side, the doll tucked into her bag.

The meandered further around the fair, stopping every now and then for any ride or games that struck their fancy. Their pockets grew lighter as pound coins disappeared, exchanged for screams of laughter and memories that will forever remind them of being young and free.

“You’ll have to tell her eventually.” Ellie said while they’re waiting for the others on the Helter Skelter, arms laden with coats. Aurora shook her head obstinately, her hair swishing down her back.

“Never.”

“You said you’d tell her when I told Loz! And look how happy we are together. Come on hen, you’ve got to take a chance.” Ellie whacked her with Bimini’s leopard print jacket as though to make a point and Aurora batted it away with a long-suffering sigh.

“We’re not like you and Lawrence, Els.”

“You could be though.”

She fixed her friend with a pointed glare, the effect rather ruined with the amount that she has to look up due to Ellie’s (frankly insane) height.

Ellie relented, looking away with a slight furrow in her brow. “Just do it tonight. Get her alone or something.”

Aurora snorted at the assumption that the pair would ever be alone at the fairground.

But, surely enough, the girls began to peel off one by one. More like two by two, it’s Noah’s bloody Ark over here Aurora thought, ignoring Asttina’s weird look when she snorted quietly to herself.

Tia and Veronica said goodbye first, walking off in the direction of Tia’s house with their arms slung around each other. Asttina and Bim were next, both shooting sly glances at Aurora that made her retreat into her jacket as she waved them off. Lawrence seemed ready to stay the entire night, until Ellie began loudly yawning, poking her girlfriend sharply in the ribs with her elbow. Eventually Lawrence got the point Ellie was trying to make (a point that Aurora will murder her for later) and the two sloped off, whispering and giggling. Aurora turned to Tayce with a bright smile plastered on her face.

“Do you want to stay for a bit?” She ventured. Tayce nodded. She linked her arm with Aurora’s, the simple gesture flooding her brain with serotonin.

They circled the fair, tired yet bright eyes looking out for anything they had missed. It seemed ridiculous to Aurora to expect that there was anything new. The fair hadn’t changed since they first went in Year Seven, eight nervous eleven- and twelve-year-olds with pounds in their pockets begged from their mums. Aurora could still remember everything from that night, fresh in her mind as if it had been yesterday.

She remembered the skirt she wore, black and way too short for her age. She remembered the music playing and the way it filled the air with a joy that she had never felt in her life before. She remembered Ellie getting scared at the top of the Helter Skelter and refusing to go down it without Lawrence holding her hand. She remembered the way Bimini had their hair, long crimped locks that frizzed up for at least the next week.

But, perhaps most importantly, she remembered Tayce. What she was wearing, how her hair looked, the brand of eyeliner that was haphazardly pencilled in her waterline. Her generosity in buying the whole group chips and burgers (aside from Bimini, of course, who only had chips). The way her breath curled into the cold air as she yelled encouragements to a trembling Ellie. That moment where she grabbed Aurora’s hand and Aurora felt something small yet inexplicable tug in her chest.

Sometimes she wished they could go back to those days of innocence. Of clumsy flirting and messy mascara. Before everyone coupled up like it was an episode of Love Island.

Before she realised she had a crush on her best friend.

“There’s nothing new here.”

Tayce’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She turned to look at her friend who had a glint of disappointment in her eyes. She snorted and squeezed her arm.

“What did you expect? This place never changes.”

Tayce grinned, the trace of sadness gone from her eyes. “Yeah, I know. That’s what I like about this place sometimes. It’s reliable.”

Aurora shook her head in mock despair. Tayce began walking purposefully, dragging Aurora behind her.

“Where are we going?”

“I want to go on the carousel again!”

“Oh my God my friend is a literal child. Did you have a good day at primary school?” She teased. Tayce screamed and whacked her.

“You bitch! I know that this is your favourite too, Rory, you can’t hide from me!”

It doesn’t take nearly as long to find a horse this time, and soon they’re in a familiar position, Aurora’s chin on Tayce’s shoulder.

“I’m gonna miss this place, Tayce.” She whispered. Her wavering voice betrayed her emotions. Tayce gently ran her thumb over her knuckles.

“Me too.’ She paused, turning her head around as if to take in everything she could. ‘Do you remember when we first came here?”

“Course I do. And we all went on the carousel and you laughed at me because I got my foot stuck and tripped as I was getting off.”

She clung on tighter as Tayce screeched. “Oh, I had almost forgotten about that! See, those are the kind of memories we’re going to take away.”

“What if we didn’t take them away?”

“Are you suggesting we stay here forever?”

“…maybe?”

“Aurora, you’ve been trying to get out of here for the past four years!”

“I know, it’s just,’ She sighed, her nostalgia coming out in a swirl of haze. ‘This is where we all consolidated our friendship.”

“We’ll come back for the fair.”

“Maybe for the first year. But then we’ll all get busy with life and degrees until it gets to the point where we look at old pictures and can’t even remember what year it was.”

“Nah, Bim’s shit hair dying skills have improved over the years, use their hair to judge the year.”

“Tayce-“

“I know, I know.”

They slipped into a brief silence, the background music still loud in their ears as they strained to memorise the notes.

Aurora wasn’t feeling brave.

But, even with her heart heavy from the feeling that this was the end of something, she found that she was happy.

Aurora spent hours looking in her Nan’s battered thesaurus, trying to find better words for ‘happy’ after her English teacher told her she needed a more varied vocabulary. But sometimes there was no other word to describe it. She was just simply happy when she was with Tayce.

“I’m going to miss you the most.” The words slipped out of her lips.

Tayce stiffened for a moment. Then she spoke.

“I’ll miss you the most too. Not just… as a friend. Even though you are my friend, it’s just,’ She twisted to look at her friend and laughed. ‘Don’t make me say this.”

“No, go on! I want to hear what you’re going to say!” Her heart thumped wildly in her chest.

“I like you Rory. Not just as a friend. As more than a friend. And I wish I told you earlier so we could have more time together.”

Her heart stopped beating altogether as she let the new information seep into her brain.

Tayce liked her.

Tayce liked her as much as she liked her.

She pushed herself forwards slightly. Her arms still entwined around the other girl’s waist, her chest pressed against her back. Slowly, shyly, and in the least Aurora way known to man, she gently kissed Tayce’s smooth cheek.

“I like you too.’ She murmured into her ear. ‘More than friends. So much more than friends.”

“Oh my God.” Tayce said under her breath.

She twisted round until she was facing Aurora. Her long thin fingers found their way to Aurora’s face and then her hair as their lips met for the first time.

Aurora felt like all the electricity and magic of the fair was sucked from the air and contained entirely within her. She felt as if she might explode, every particle that made her up buzzing with joy as she clung to her best friend and kissed her like her life depended on it.

They pulled away when they felt the ride come to a stop. Aurora couldn’t breathe.

“Can we take a selfie?” Her cheeks are flushed as she speaks, embarrassed that this is the first thing to exit her mouth after finally admitting her love for Tayce after years of pining.

Tayce scrunched her nose. “Why?”

She shrugged. “I want to remember this forever. And never run the risk of forgetting.”

Tayce just laughed and kissed her again. And again. And again.

The next September, Aurora stands alone in a room. It’s technically hers, but it doesn’t feel like that yet. She slips on her headphones as she begins her task of decorating, hoping that when she’s done she won’t feel like she wants to cry anymore.

Just an hour later she slips her headphones off to do the last part in tranquil silence.

She’s methodical as she pins pictures to the board. Her family on one side, her friends on the other, with both of them mingling in the centre. She giggles as she tacks up the first group selfie they ever took, all squished on the ghost train that made Ellie scream bloody murder. She swears she can smell candyfloss and greasy burgers as she puts the rest of them up, revelling in the memories that flood her mind.

The group one from last year might be her favourite group one to date. Tia and Veronica at the front, smiling like they’ve won the life lottery as they curled together. Lawrence and Ellie cosily close, Lawrence playfully throwing a peace sign while Ellie stretched to make sure Tia got her whole outfit in. Bim and Asttina smirking, their eyes betraying the pure excitement that Aurora knows was within them.

Her and Tayce. Tayce’s pointed tongue stuck out cheekily that caused Aurora to throw her head back in the most genuine display of happiness ever captured on camera.

There was one final picture to put up. Although, it may have been a bit unnecessary. It was already her phone background, in a frame by her bed, and plastered all over her social media.

Slightly swollen lips, windswept hair, matching euphoric smiles.

Their first kiss, and the time that Aurora knew she would be in love with Tayce until the end of time.

It gets stuck right in the middle, pride of place.

Aurora takes a quick picture of the finished board. She sends it to the groupchat and flings herself onto her bed to read the rapid replies, her Tinkerbell doll cradled in the crook of her arm.

Basic <3: Omg!! That’s so cute, I love those pictures so much!

Loch Ness Bitch: are ya getting soppy already Rory, you’ve only been gone five minutes

Dirty D: Loz shut up it’s cute! All those memories <333

Sailor Vee: Ahh I can’t wait to go to the fair again this year. We’re defo all coming back, right?

Rude: Course we are Ronnie I wouldn’t miss it for the world

Vegan: Greasy chips on me, ladies x

Hound: I bloody hope so Bim, think you all still owe me from year 7

She’s happy. Aurora is happy as the groupchat descends into chaos, happy that they can still be like this while spread around the country. Her phone pings again.

Tayce: The carousel will always be there Rory. I’ll be waiting for you there x

She smiles as she taps out her reply.

Aurora: I love you so much <3

When she closes her eyes, Aurora can feel the cool winter air threading through her hair. She can smell the candyfloss sugar and savoury smells of greasy burgers and hotdogs that would leave her with a stomach ache for two days. She can hear the tacky tunes she loved to shout along too.

But best of all, she knows that in her heart, her love for Tayce is electric. It’s steady, reliable, and comforting.

Just like riding the carousel.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #tayce #a'whora #taywhora #uk2 #background other uk2 girls #lesbian au #high school au #plegdoctor #carousel

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palbabor-writes · 4 years ago

Note

what kinda student do you think tomura was in high school? how do you think he’d behave, like what would you think he’d be like?

Good morning, lovelies ☀️

Oooh! I like this, excellent, excellent question.

Let’s see:

First, I do feel that it’s important to split Shigaraki into Tenko and Tomura. Depending on which timeline we’re transversing, you’re going to see a vastly different kiddo.

On that note, let’s start with Tenko!

Look at that little guy, he is pure and precious and I love him. However, Tenko is already having issues suppressing his mounting quirk awakening and he is deeply repressed and smothered at home.

Now, if his quirk manifestation had occurred less, uh, tragically. I feel that it would be another thing his family (see: FATHER) would want to hide.

That seems to be that guys MO, tbh. Dislike something? Well, better bury that so deep you gotta take it out on your kids. (SORRY. This is not what the ask is about but the Shimura household has me: 😡🤬😤)

If Tenko made it out of his manifestation and his family hadn’t died & continued on their original, er, best?timeline, I think we would see a kid who is either: timid and skittish, OR bitter and sneakily hostile. I like the second, personally.

Even when Tenko was a kid, he pushed at the rules. He knows he’s not supposed to play hero, yet what does he do? He invites the stragglers over and they fucking play hero, damn his dad’s expectations.

I can see him growing into a quiet, but rebellious teen. He might push at the boundaries just to see what kind of reaction he can get from the authority figures that surround him. He would have a small, but close knit circle of friends.

This clique is either: the outcasts, or a hodgepodge of gathered students. Think something like, mm, a collection. That one goth kid, who’s not quite edgy enough? They hang with Tenko. That jock who’s a freaking ace a math? She’s eating lunch at Tenko’s table and the two of them are going to swap formulaic strategies.

That’s the other thing about Tenko: kid is smart, smart, smart. So smart, he’s bored 😑 The material and rigor of work just isn’t cutting it half the time.

With that extra time he’s going to be reading, watching the news, or consuming blogs and channels. There’s a lot of things that bother him about this society of theirs & his dad is right about one thing: Heroes spend all this time, all this energy into helping strangers. Meanwhile, their families are left to pick up the pieces. It’s not sustainable and it’s not right.

Oh? Were you thinking I’d make Tenko a hero junkie? Nah. That’s his sister’s territory. He’ll talk about hero stuff with her, but it’s always edged with some biting criticism. Tenko is more of a pessimist, he’ll leave that optimistic, heroic, bullshit to Hana.

Long story, short: Tenko is the quiet rebel. Teachers know he’s likely behind some of the alternative student newspapers (they’ve been banned, over and over, for their anti government, anti hero, and anti surveillance state content) but Tenko is too smooth, too careful. He’s got that dark hair, big, innocent eyes and he know’s he’s a handsome guy.

You sure it’s him, miss? His father is an upstanding businessman, he would never, ever want to jeopardize THAT.

Now, to Tomura:

Uh, The school would be closed because, oh no, he killed that guy in a fit frustration and rage.

Honestly? While I hate, hate how Tomura was raised, isolated and manipulated, the one thing AFO did that likely helped Tomura, was not sending him to a school.

We’ve had some scenes of how school life is. Well, at least middle school life (I’d argue that UA and other hero schools are strict outliers). Kids are mean and kids can be so, so cruel. Combine that with Tomura’s early, instability and repressed memories? Yeah, that’s a big, bad combo.

I can see the school trying to curb him at first. But, that’s not a long term solution. Besides, his Sensei is telling him to do what he wants, to act on those urges.

Yeah, he’s in and out of suspension and shuttled from class to class. They try small groups, they try individualized instruction, they put him in whatever Japan’s version of Special Education is. In general, he’s the leftover, the kid who’s beyond help. They’ve given up, but legally, they can’t just stamp: OH WELL on his head and call it a day.

Now, AFO is loaded, I guess 🤔 I actually don’t know, but he is hundreds of years old & has access to insane resources, so yeah, he’s rich. ANYWAY. Even if Tomura is expelled, AFO has got the clout and pull to get him into another school, or another program.

So, what’s Tomura like to others? I’d say he keeps away from most. He sees himself as a monster, something that can only destroy and wreck. He’s younger then he is in the manga and anime, so his insecurities and doubts drift into the front of his mind, pulling at him.

That being said, he does have a few friends. Most, like him, are abandoned, lost causes. They stick together and like to intimidate and hound the administration. Oh shit. They’re all huddled over there. They’re not causing in trouble right now...but all it takes is one careless turn of the head.

Tomura and his group listen to no one, especially not teachers, or kids who fit in, and are seen as normal. His rage is close to bursting most days, but AFO pushes him to keep manipulating and jabbing at others. He needs to learn how to lead and to do that he needs followers. AFO is not thrilled with Tomura’s choices, but he wants him to learn from his mistakes. He can always try again.

Being in school just hastens his indoctrination. He can see first hand how kids with strange quirks are discriminated against, pushed into becoming outliers, possible villains. This whole society is disgusting and it needs to be eradicated, preferably before his next science class. There’s a pop quiz and he hates those.

This was fun! Thanks for the ask, nonnie!

#tomura shigiraki #shiragaki tomura #shimura tenko #tenko shimura #asks #answered asks #ken muses #high school #high school shenanigans #what if #honestly it’s a miracle his kill count isn’t higher #god can you imagine

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bonniebelleklyde · 4 years ago

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Time and Distance, Chapter 1

Note: Ooookay, so this little angst fest has evolved into a chaptered fic! Endless thanks to @joylessnightsky for the prompt that got me started down this road (the quote you suggested doesn’t appear in this chapter, but it’s coming!). Hope you enjoy this first installment!

Word Count: 1520

Pairing(s): Loceit (romantic); Logince (familial/parental), Roceit (familial/parental)

Warnings: Mild cursing, light angst (but be warned that it will escalate in future chapters), signs of depression

Summary: Twenty years after graduating college and watching the love of his life walk out of his for what he thought was forever, Janus not-so-accidentally runs into him again. Even with so much time and distance between them, he struggles to fight back feelings, old and new, as he and his old friend become reacquainted. That precocious child of Logan’s does nothing to help matters.

Janus didn’t know what the hell he was doing here. He hadn’t kept in contact with a single soul from his college days, and he had not attended any of these stupid alumni events in twenty years. He had precious few fond memories of his time here, so it was not like he’d come to reminisce about the good old days. And there was nothing about his current life he was particularly proud to show off either. He worked like a dog at a job he didn’t want, and one that paid him significantly less than he was worth. He lived in a depressing little apartment in a depressing little neighborhood. He had no family to speak of, and all of his friends had long since moved far enough away that he had lost touch with most of them. Even Remus only ever called him on holidays out of some sort of pity-driven obligation. Janus had become what all of the people here who once knew him had no doubt expected him to be-- a lonely, bitter man.

Oh, who was he kidding? Janus knew exactly why he had come. When he’d received the Facebook invitation, he’d rolled his eyes and idly visited the event page. He was about close his laptop and get on with his miserable life when his eyes froze on one of the names that appeared as having accepted the invite.

Logan Keller.

If Janus was being honest with himself-- which he almost never was-- he would have to admit that he looked for that name every time he got one of these invitations. Which was ridiculous. Janus had never dated Logan; they’d never been lovers. Even the term “friend” was probably too generous a term for what they had been. Logan was more a friend of Janus’s old roommate than of Janus himself.

But Logan Keller had captured every inch of Janus’s attention from the moment that Virgil had introduced them. He was impossibly beautiful, with his piercing eyes, his sharp grin and the single dimple one could only see when he smiled wide enough. And lord, was it a triumphant feeling on any occasion when Janus managed to make him smile wide enough. Moreover, Logan was perhaps the most brilliant mind that Janus had ever encountered, his highly acclaimed professors included. Any topic that Janus had ever wanted to discuss, Logan had always been readily equipped with a string of seemingly endless facts, figures, analyses and opinions that he was more than ready to fiercely defend. These “discussions” more often than not turned into heated debates, but Janus liked it better that way. Logan was a rare worthy opponent, and going toe to toe with him was exhilarating.

Even years after they had last spoken, Janus found himself remembering things, small and large, about Logan at random. He drank the strongest coffee known to man completely black, and the scent of it followed him wherever he went, no matter the time of day. He had an intense fascination with Sherlock Holmes stories and a well-worn copy of The Hounds of Baskerville was with him wherever he went. He hated pretzels. He loved the stars. He held Janus’s hand in silent solidarity while Janus tried and failed to hold himself together at his mother’s funeral.

Janus had been desperately in love with Logan Keller the entire time he knew him and well afterward. And Logan had been in love with Virgil Sykes. He never said as much, and the two had never officially been an item as far as Janus was aware, but he knew it to be true all the same. The two were inseparable, and Janus had never seen a bond like that. To this day, they were always showing up in photos together all over social media. They were probably married now-- Janus had never had the stomach to check.

Still. It had been a long time. There had been other men. None that made a particularly lasting impression, but they’d…been. It wasn’t as if he had been pining after Logan for the past twenty years. Even Janus wasn’t quite that pathetic. Perhaps if he saw Logan now, he would find that all of those old feelings were long gone. Perhaps he’d look at Logan and wonder how he ever could have spent so many of his thoughts on someone so unremarkable. Perhaps he’d feel nothing at all.

God, if only.

Janus arrived late at the campus pub they were all supposed be gathering at, and he supposed that he shouldn’t have been surprised that his eyes found Logan immediately. He felt like he was twenty-two again, like he was looking at the only man he had ever loved for the last time before they went their separate ways forever.

…

“So. Boston.”

Janus wished he could come up with something better to say. Perhaps something about Boston, something so disparaging that the thought of picking up and moving approximately 2,600 miles away from here—away from him—would seem unbearable. Nothing came to mind. Nothing but a desperate chorus of ‘not yet; we haven’t had enough time. I never told you-’

“Yes, well,” the uncertainty in Logan’s voice was confusing, and Janus didn’t dare let it give him any amount of false hope, “I haven’t decided on it yet. I’ve been accepted elsewhere, you know.”

“Oh, please. Like you’re going to turn down Harvard Med. You’ve talked about nothing else for the past four years. Why wouldn’t you go?”

It took every ounce of will power Janus had not to read into the hesitance in Logan’s face, maybe even a touch of disappointment. It didn’t matter. Not when Logan was going to leave.

“I…I can’t seem to come up with any practical reason not to.”

Janus told himself there was nothing noteworthy in the way in which Logan emphasized the word ‘practical.’ He was being a ridiculous, pathetic, lovesick fool, and like hell was he about to drag Logan down because of it.

“Well then, there you have it, right? Congratulations.”

The word ‘congratulations’ had never sounded so much like defeat. Even if Logan had returned his ridiculous feelings—which he didn’t, Janus never would have asked him to give up something like this for his sake. Not even he was that selfish.

“I…” Logan faltered and sighed instead of finishing whatever it was he’d meant to say. “Thank you,” he said instead in a small voice that barely rose above a whisper.

Janus wanted to say something to make this feel like less of an end. After all, this was the twenty-first century. They had cell phones and laptops with cameras. They had social media, and when all else failed they had good old-fashioned handwritten letters. He might have enjoyed writing letters to Logan. It might have worked, kept their something-like-a-friendship intact at the very least. This didn’t have to be goodbye.

But Janus didn’t say any of those things. He nodded, muttered some thinly veiled excuse to get away and retreated. He was a coward. He paid for it for the next twenty years.

…

Janus needed a drink. No, he needed to leave. This was a mistake, he thought to himself, and he turned on his heels and headed straight back out the door.

“Janus!”

He stopped dead in his tracks. He didn’t need to turn around to know that it was Logan running up behind him, but he did so anyway.

“You’re leaving? Didn’t you just get here?” Logan continued, appearing slightly out of breath, and Janus fervently hoped that he wasn’t blushing upon having been caught out.

“I shouldn’t have come at all,” he answered honestly—too honestly—without thinking. He rushed to recover. “These kinds of…events…well, they’ve never really been for me.”

That seemed good enough for Logan, who nodded in response.

“No, they haven’t. Come to think of it, they haven’t exactly been for me either.”

“Yes, I must say, I’m surprised to see you at one of these things,” Janus lied through his teeth. Though, to be fair, Janus had been surprised to see that Logan had accepted the Facebook invitation.

Logan shrugged. “Likewise.”

There was a painfully awkward silence, and Janus for the life of him could not think of a single thing to say that wouldn’t make him sound like an insane person, a stalker or a complete asshole. He was about to make a pathetic excuse and flee like he always did, like the coward he was, when Logan cleared his throat.

“In fact, I’ve rather had my fill of this event. I was just thinking about going off to find some decent food when I saw you. You wouldn’t…you wouldn’t care to join me, would you? It’s…well, it’s been a long time.”

Something in Logan’s expression made it physically impossible to refuse him—Janus had almost forgotten that strange power the other man had over him, the power that apparently was not diminished by twenty years and over two thousand miles. Fresh out of excuses, Janus nodded and offered Logan a rare smile.

“That it has. Why not? I’m starving.”

#fanfic #loceit #time and distance #ts logan #ts janus #tw swearing #human au

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lacrow · 4 years ago

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SXF Collaboration Story

@nonokoko13 , @sxfobsessed , @nagy-bari

First off I’d like to apologize. Under my insane direction, this little ficlet has turned into a 12k behemoth. Therefore I will be positing it in two parts (and also linking to ao3 since I threw it in with my one-shot collection). I’ll add the link to Part II when it’s edit/posted. Thank you to everyone who helped come up with this idea, it was a lot of fun to write!

Title: Cabernet Makes Her Clothes Fall Off

Rating: T

Part I: ao3

Part II: tumblr, ao3

Parties Involved: Loid Forger, Yor-Briar Forger, Anya Forger, Bond, Franky, Yuri Briar, Becky Blackbell, Camilla, Dominic, Millie, Sharon Mission Objective(s): host a dinner party for friends and acquaintances, [INCOMPLETE] Reporting Status: [IN-PROGRESS] ADDENDUM 1 [NIGHTFALL]: After careful review of last night's mission report, it has come to my attention that Twilight's conduct has been highly inappropriate for that of a WISE agent. I recommend personnel changes be made for the ensured success of Operation Strix. ADDENDUM 2 [TWILIGHT]: Sorry, I forgot to save you leftovers. ADDENDUM 3 [NIGHTFALL]: That's not what I meant, and you know it. ADDENDUM 4 [HANDLER]: He's married. Also, thank you for the leftovers, they were delicious.

Part I

A cacophony of sounds emanated from the Forger house as Yor frantically tried to get things ready for what was sure to be a total disaster.

In just a few hours, guests would be arriving for an impromptu dinner party that she had no right organizing in the first place. It wasn't her call to make, not without consulting her husband first, but...she went and opened her big mouth anyway. Now she was suffering the consequences for it, and not just her, either. Yor looked up through the window above the kitchen sink as she desperately went about getting things ready for the evening's festivities. Loid and Anya stood by the door as they started to put their coats on. The latter had her school backpack on, though in lieu of books and pencils it was instead filled with a change of clothes and some toys.

"I'll be back soon to help set up," Loid called out to her. He went to gather his hat and gloves. "I already called the Blackbells' nanny and told them I can't stay long."

"Ok," Yor replied meekly. Half of her wanted to tell him not to rush. The other half desperately wished to ask the opposite of him. "Please be careful you two."

"Bye mama!" Anya looked over at Yor as Bond came up to sniff her goodbye. "Have fun with your party tonight!"

The Forger matriarch couldn't help but to frown. "You do the same at your friend Becky's...do everything her parents tell you, okay?"

"I will!" Anya replied back. She smiled brightly in anticipation at her upcoming sleepover, though it waned the longer she stared up at her mama.

Yor had no way of knowing her daughter was reading her mind. If she did, it wouldn't have made her feel as guilty when Anya suddenly ran around the corner and wrapped her arms around her leg in a tight embrace. That wasn't to say she didn't appreciate the gesture; if anything she desperately needed it at the moment. It's just that she assumed Anya's hug was less out of fondness and more out of pity, though in the end she accepted it all the same. Yor knelt down and pulled Anya in close as Loid waited by the door with a well-hidden smirk on his face.

"Love you," Anya smiled encouragingly, eyes closed in content.

"I love you, too," Yor teared up a little. She squeezed her daughter tight. "I'll see you tomorrow."

They held each other for a moment. Though she didn't want it to end, Yor ended up being the first to let go. She smiled at Anya before the little girl waved and skipped off towards the door. Already turning the knob to leave, Loid let their daughter out first before turning to his wife. He said nothing, but gave a small, comforting smile to her before exiting. She nodded as a silent thanks before watching him leave, and it soon became just her and Bond. The Forger hound sat there with his tail wagging, and he looked up at Yor with an expectant look on his face.

Yor glanced down at the dog and sighed. "Well, Bond...time to get back to work."

Bond said nothing back, as was to be expected.

/*\

"You're joking, right? Not even a housewarming party?"

A familiar face; the deadpan look of an unimpressed Camilla, though to Yor she seemed just as pleasant as ever. If only the poor girl knew what every other woman working at city hall knew, which was that Camilla loathed her with a(n admittedly waning) passion. No one had the heart to say anything though, which was mostly why they stayed silent as Yor revealed to them that she and Loid had never had a get-together at their house before. Individual people, of course, but never more than one person at a time.

"Er, well...no?" Yor's lips squiggled. Was that a bad thing?

"Really, Yor, you're hopeless!" Camilla shook her head, exasperated. "Don't you and your husband have any friends?"

Yor blinked. "Well, of course we do. You, for starters."

Camilla's jaw dropped as the other women snickered behind her. Yor continued. "And I suppose that includes Dominic, as well? Also Loid's friend Franky, and his co-worker Fiona, and-"

"-Alright, alright, I get it!" the blonde woman grumbled, waving Yor off. "Fine, you have friends. So why then haven't you hosted before?"

Yor frowned a little. She knew why; it was because Loid was always tired and she was terrible in the kitchen. If there was going to be party then he would have to do the cooking, and Yor didn't have the heart to ask that of him. Not when he had so much on his plate already (pun unintended). Still, Yor could see where Camilla was coming from. She had been nice enough to invite her over to a get-together at her house, while Loid and herself had never shown the same courtesy back. It was rude, and not to mention suspicious.

Couples invited people over for dinner, right? So then, what would people think if she and Loid never did?

The more Yor thought about it, the more she realized her attempts at playing house were falling short again. Yor looked up at Camilla, Millie, and Sharon, and all of a sudden she felt self-conscious. They seemed to be waiting for an answer that Yor couldn't give them, or at the very least one she refused to share; that her marriage was a sham and she didn't know the first thing about entertaining guests. It was the truth, but they weren't meant to know that. All Yor could do was think about what her husband would do in her situation. What would Loid's response be?

He'd make it happen. One way or another, he'd pull through like he always did.

"W-well," Yor stammered. She flinched a little. "Why don't you all come over this Saturday?"

The other women paused, most of all Camilla. The three of them threw glances at one another, suddenly finding the spotlight reversed on them. They seemed to have a wordless conversation amongst themselves, while at the same time Yor kicked herself for opening the door to her home like that without talking to Loid first. He liked his privacy just as much as she did, and the weekend was one of the few times he got to relax (and even then it wasn't guaranteed). Yor's head started to slowly spiral; what if he got called into work, or she suddenly had to take a contract-killing job on short notice? This was a bad idea. She had to rescind her offer, and fast-!

"-Do you want us to bring anything...?" Camilla asked reluctantly. It almost looked like it pained her to say it out loud, mostly because it did.

Yor froze. The worst case scenario had come to pass, even more so because she had brought it upon herself. She stood there as three pairs of eyes stared at her once more, only there was no going back this time. The window of opportunity for backing out had already passed, and the only thing Yor could do was try her best to swallow the quickly growing lump in her throat.

"...N-no," Yor shook her head. She gulped. "...My husband and I will cook something for dinner..."

/*\

"I'm a horrible wife," Yor lamented as she straightened out her white polka dot dress. "I never should have agreed to this. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"

"It's fine, Yor," Loid eased. He closed the oven door and threw his mitt onto the stove top. He turned towards her. "There's no reason to beat yourself up."

Yor frowned. Loid sighed. They both looked to the clock on the wall next to them and immediately came to the same conclusion; their guests were fashionably late. A quarter past six and no one had shown up yet, but that ended up being more of blessing than anything else. Loid had gotten held up at the Blackbells' a little longer than expected, and Yor had only just barely finished cleaning by the time he made it home. She at least had it to where all he needed to do was fix up the casserole for later; the rest of their home, from the living room to the bathroom, was immaculately spotless.

"So remind me again who all is coming?" Loid asked uncomfortably as he looked back to the kitchen. He was fairly certain there was enough food, but...

"Well..." Yor thought for a moment. "The girls, so, Camilla, Millie, and Sharon. Dominic as well, and he of course told my brother so Yuri's coming, too. And also Fiona-?"

Loid shook his head. "She won't be coming. Something came up at work and she won't be able to make it."

Some hostage situation at the embassy, last he heard. Nothing Nightfall couldn't handle, though it'd certainly take her the whole night to sort through it all. Tragedy aside, it at least worked in favor of Loid's dinner planning. Along with some easy-to-make finger foods, there would be more than enough to keep everyone satisfied. On top of that, they'd rearranged the furniture in the living room to open it up a bit more. They had also moved the dining room table up against the wall, and Loid even got a hold of a couple breakfast nook chairs (courtesy of WISE) for the counter at the kitchen window.

This little shindig of theirs was turning into quite the gathering. Loid smiled a bit at the thought, even as Yor continued to look up at him in dismay. He had half a mind to reassure her some more, but knew it would only fall on deaf ears. Instead, he took it upon himself to leave her for a moment to go digging in the pantry. He fished out one of the cheap bottles of wine they'd gotten for the evening's festivities. Yor immediately held her hand up to protest, though karma had come full circle to spite her. She didn't listen to Loid. Therefore, neither would he listen to her.

A moment later and he arrived with a glass in his hand, filled halfway with blood-red courage. "Everything will be fine."

"I know..." Yor replied weakly as she took the wine glass from her husband. "...I just feel guilty for dragging you along with all this."

"Hey, we're a team," Loid reassured her. He smiled again, and Yor's face became flushed. "You just focus on enjoying yourself, and I promise it'll all work out."

For what felt like the first time that night, Yor gave a smile back. A small one, of course, since she still had a million things running through her head, but at the very least she gave Loid the response he was looking for. Yor closed her eyes and took a sip and, as if her husband had been right all along, there came a knock at the door immediately after. Yor paused; she quickly tried to swallow her wine in order to answer it properly, though Loid was already opening the door by the time she had composed herself.

They both figured it must have been Yuri (since he was usually quite punctual), but Loid's face fell flat as someone else came into view. "I hope I'm not late!"

Shaggy hair. Scraggly chin. A stature half that of Loid's; the man glowered. "Franky, what the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm here for the party, of course!" Franky gave a stupid grin as he held up another bottle of wine. "I didn't get the invitation, but I figured you must've forgot!"

"...Right, of course," Loid's eyes narrowed. He continued to glare while Franky grinned. "Must have slipped my mind..."

Stiffly, Loid stepped back to allow his friend entry. He looked to Yor as Franky shuffled in, and he shuddered to think what an unaccounted for guest would mean for her party. Surprisingly, his wife seemed pleased at Franky's presence. She set her glass down and gave him a proper greeting, to which Franky did the same. He placed the bottle of wine on the counter after shedding his coat, and immediately made a b-line for the bathroom. The door shut behind him as he made his pit stop, leaving both Forgers alone again for a moment.

"I'm glad Franky could make it!" Yor smiled.

"Likewise," Loid added flatly. He shook his head in dismay.

"Next time I'll be sure to remind you to invite him," she added while grabbing his arm.

Loid relented with a smile to his wife, though the inside of his head was working overtime trying to sort through possible scenarios for the evening. It's not entirely that he didn't want Franky there (part of him truly didn't), but the less he mixed up Twilight's affairs with Loid Forger's the better. Not even taking into account just what a bad idea inviting an SSS agent into his home was, having Franky and Fiona there would have thrown a whole headache of problems into the equation. Nightfall could have handled herself well enough, but Franky...

He prayed to whatever god above that the little fool could behave himself. Just for one night.

All Loid could do was have a little faith, though that wasn't really his M.O. He'd try not to worry in the meantime, but would continue to keep an eye on Franky for the rest of the night. He eased up on the guy once he emerged out the bathroom and approached him and Yor for pleasant conversation; his initial terseness passed, and the three of them actually got on well enough for a time. For how long, specifically, Loid couldn't say. Before any of them knew it, there came another knock at the door. This time Yor was the one to answer.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, Yor!" an impassioned voice cut through their home, and Loid knew right away it was Yuri. "I got held up at work and missed my train!"

"That's okay, Yuri, so is everyone else!" Yor smiled, and Loid did, too. She was letting the guest situation roll of her shoulders, which was good.

There was a shuffle at the door as both Briars came inside. Yor took her brother's hat and coat, and he smiled pleasantly at her in silent thanks. The moment his head swiveled in Loid's direction, however, that pleasantness quickly took a nosedive. Yor was none the wiser, of course, though Loid was more than aware of his brother-in-law's killer vibe. He smiled.

"It's good to see you again, Yuri!" Loid chimed politely. His smile grew as Yuri's turned even more.

"Loi-Loi," Yuri bowed his head stiffly in acknowledgement. Beside him, Franky cracked up at his friend's stupid nickname.

Yuri's eyes fixed on Loid and Yor's other guest. Likewise, Franky looked to Yuri. This was the first time either had met each other properly, though Franky was more than familiar with Yor's brother and his position as an SSS agent. Admittedly, it was a bit unnerving for Franky to be in his presence, especially with that...weird look he stared at him with. Loid had warned him about it multiple times; the dude was nuts about his sister. Him being friends with Loid probably didn't lend him any favors, so his opinion of him probably was at rock bottom at the moment.

Nowhere to go but up from there, right? "Hiya! The name's Franky, nice to meet you!"

Franky held his hand out to shake. Yuri glanced at it before looking back up. He offered no hand of his own.

"Yuri! Don't be rude!" Yor chastised her brother from behind. He cringed and glanced at her over his shoulder. "Franky's my friend, too!"

The Briar boy turned back around to find two smug smiles waiting for him; an obvious one from Franky, and a thinly-veiled one from Loid. Whether he noticed them or not, Yuri made no comment. He simply shook Franky's hand (reluctantly) and offered a halfhearted hello in reply. The two promptly separated and went their separate ways. Franky followed Loid into the kitchen while Yor stayed behind to talk more with her brother, and both groups kept up conversation for a time until another knock came at the door.

Camilla and Dominic. The pair entered, both carrying offerings for the party; a tray of enticing appetizers and another bottle of wine, respectively. The couple were met with multiple greetings and they offered their own before splitting up almost immediately. Loid showed Camilla into the kitchen while Dominic stayed behind to talk with Yuri. Franky joined everyone else in the living room, seeing as how there wasn't a lot of room in that tiny kitchen for three people. Besides, Loid didn't trust him in there, which was fair.

"Thank you for the food, but you really didn't have to go through all the trouble," Loid told Camilla as he dug into the cabinet for plates.

"Well, Dominic insisted we bring something, and it's a recipe I've been meaning to try out for a while now." She stood off to the side to stay out of his way.

"It smells great, can't wait to try it," Loid smiled pleasantly. A moment later and he procured the dinnerware. Camilla offered to take them into the living room for him.

Loid handed the plates off to her. Camilla turned to walk away, but paused as Loid spun around to gather his own appetizers. She shifted uncomfortably as she scanned him up and down; a nice dress shirt, perfectly sleeked hair, muscles, and an air of confidence that most men spent their whole lives pretending to have. Loid Forger had it all, and Camilla couldn't fathom just how in the hell Yor ever bagged such a hot husband in the first place. Seriously, how? It was downright frustrating just how perfect he seemed; the man could cook, raise a daughter, deal with Yor, and still seem nonchalant about everything. If she didn't know any better, Camilla would have said his and Yor's marriage was some kind of front for the mob or something. There was just no way...

"...Babe, you alright?" Dominic's head suddenly popped into the kitchen. "You're spacing."

Camilla jumped out of her skin and nearly dropped the tin, in no small part because she was caught red-handed thinking about Yor's husband. Luckily for her, Dominic didn't come to that conclusion. He smiled and waved her over and, after she shook herself out of it, Camilla followed him obediently towards the living room. The two of them dropped the food off on the dining room table on the way, which was joined by Loid's tin soon after. He stuck around to open some of the wine bottles, and Yor had half a mind to offer him help but ultimately decided against it. He was good at popping corks, and she would have honestly just gotten in the way.

Yuri, Camilla, and Dominic stood off to the side and chatted. Franky kept Yor company until Loid appeared a minute later, and the three of them sat gathered around the coffee table while they waited for the other guests to eventually arrive. So far, so good, Yor thought to herself as she scanned her apartment. Wine glass in hand, she let out a poorly hidden sigh of relief. At that point, Loid smirked. He must have been thinking the same thing she was, at least that's what Yor assumed. He leaned over the table to pat her shoulder comfortingly, and she flinched at his touch (out of habit) before quickly relaxing. Her husband was right; just enjoy the evening, and everything would work out fine.

She nodded to herself and took a sip of wine, and a small smile tugged at her lips soon after.

/*\

Millie and Sharon arrived stag together soon after. With Franky taking up the baton for Fiona, everyone Yor had invited ended up coming. Bond was promptly kenneled in Anya's room (with plenty of food, water, and a bone) and the party was in full swing.

Loid started to drop off plates in front of people, and he couldn't help but be thankful that Handler had secretly requisitioned him the extra chairs. It was just enough for everyone to have a seat, though he distinctly remembered her shaking her head initially at his request. Not that she wouldn't do it, but more to do with the fact that he was going native, as she had so eloquently put it. A dinner party for his wife's friends? The higher-ups would rip them both a new one if they got wind that Twilight was blowing agency funds again over something stupid.

Regardless, she wrote it off as a business expense for an upcoming mission.

Handler always was a sucker for parties.

Loid just needed to save her some leftovers, which was easy enough. A couple missing appetizers and a suspiciously absent square of casserole were tucked safely away in his fridge for his boss. The spy game could get weird sometimes, and vicarious party attendance was just one of those things that agents did to keep themselves entertained during missions. Usually that involved going out of their way to secretly acquire a bottle from the bar to bring back to a safe house or finding out a way to smuggle out a whole chunk of wedding cake without being seen by the bride and groom. It was a stupid inside joke amongst spies; that being said, Loid was no stranger to it. He fully expected the same from Handler the next time she attended a party for a mission.

"Thank you, Loid!" Yor beamed up at him as he pulled up the chair next to her. All the plates had been delivered, and he held the last one in his hands as he sat down.

"Yes, thanks for cooking. It looks great," Sharon added politely across from them. At her side, Millie echoed the sentiment while trying hard not to eat without everyone else.

Loid nodded and waved off their praise. Meanwhile, Yuri grumbled from his spot against the wall. He of course wasn't about to afford his brother-in-law any good will, though Franky next to him had more than enough for the two of them. He stared down at the food in front of him with big eyes and watering mouth; it was by far the best looking thing he'd seen in a long time. He wasn't necessarily the healthiest eater at home. Mostly his pantry was filled with noodles, cereal, and the occasional box of macaroni. This was a downright feast.

There was only one thing missing, and he almost forgot it before digging in. He hadn't eaten anything all day so he'd abstained up until then, but now was definitely the time for a tall glass of wine. He swung down from his chair and shuffled into the kitchen as the rest of the party cut into their food and carried on in conversation. Nobody paid him any mind, save for one man whose head immediately shot over when he noticed a familiar bob of scruffy hair struggle to uncork another wine bottle. Loid quickly excused himself with no one the wiser.

"No drinking," he stated firmly as he came up behind Franky and lifted the bottle from his hands. The latter spun around incredulously.

"Excuse me?" Franky guffawed. He held his arms out to the side to accentuate just how insulted he was.

"Do you remember what happened the last time you drank at my house?" Loid replied flatly. His voice was hushed. Their conversation needed to be quiet.

Franky considered for a moment. He genuinely gave it some thought before slowly shaking his head. "Er...no?"

Loid pinched the bridge of his nose. "You nearly blew my cover, plus you convinced me to spend thousands of dalc on a castle rental for Anya!"

"Hey, that was your fault for listening to a drunk guy!" Franky shot back, which only caused Loid's eye to twitch in annoyance. "Also, what are you talking about?! Yor's drinking and she's way worse than I am!"

"I can handle my wife. I can't handle both of you," Loid shook his head like a father reprimanding his child.

"She's your fake wife!" Franky whispered back loudly. "I'm your best friend! You're really just going to cut me off like this?"

Loid leaned over his so-called best friend. Their height difference was on full display, and Franky gulped. "This whole party was Yor's idea! It's important to her, and I'm going to make sure it goes off without a hitch. If that means keeping you dry for an evening, then so be it!"

Twilight made a brief reappearance; those cold eyes he was known for were suddenly aimed directly at Franky, and they got his point across loud and clear. With a reluctant nod, Franky agreed to skip the booze. Loid soon eased and nodded back before leaving to return to the other guests. That just left Franky alone by himself with an open wine bottle and a half-full glass on the counter in front of him. He grimaced at the thought of pouring it back into the bottle, a social faux pas if there ever was one. Dumping it certainly wasn't an option, either. Franky was never one to waste a good drink, regardless of the situation.

The newly-sober intelligence agent put his brain to work and came up with a quick solution; if Loid thought so lowly of him at the moment, why not prove him wrong? He was trying to score points with Yor (probably, he really didn't know why Twilight cared in the first place), so maybe if he helped make sure she had a good time then that might make him back off a little. Yeah, that's it! He'd pour the rest of the wine and treat her to a glass, then...well, he'd think of the rest later! His first priority was to make sure Yor was liquored up. Can't have a good party without feeling good, of course!

It all made sense. At least, it did to Franky, anyway.

With a smug grin, he filled the remainder of the glass. The bottle glugged in his hand until there was nothing left, and he promptly disposed of it before carefully curling his fingers around the cabernet meant for Yor. He focused intently on the red liquid as he walked, staring down at it to make sure that none of it came splashing out. Franky narrowed his eyes and suffered full on tunnel vision; for all the years he and Twilight had known each other, also taking into account what a connoisseur the latter was, it was a downright shameful how little Franky knew about handling wine.

Anyone who had ever carried a glass before knew to look forward when they were walking, not down at their hand.

Nobody noticed him at first. He scooted into the open room and crept up while everyone was eating and talking. Yor had her back to the wall, and Loid's was towards him. All the better to surprise the Forgers with a kind gesture, Franky plotted. He let a sneer cut across his face as he arrived and cleared his throat, summoning his hosts' attention.

"Here you go, Yor!" Franky announced obnoxiously. All eyes turned towards him. He lifted his nose haughtily in the air. "I thought you might like a glass of wine-!"

-He suddenly stopped.

Not of his own volition, but because something had caught his foot and sent the rest of him reeling forward. Franky's eyes widened, and he looked down to find he'd tripped over one of Bond's stupid chew toys. He hadn't seen it before. It was too late to do anything about it. Already he was lurching towards Yor and Loid, and even if he caught himself from falling over there was no stopping the overflowing cup in his hands from spilling everywhere. Franky watched, captive, as cabernet rained over the one person Loid had done his damnedest to please that evening.

Yor sat helpless as her white polka dot dress suddenly splattered blood red. Warm liquid stained her and her clothes, and the rest of the party froze for a millisecond as what was happening still registered in their brains. Then, immediately after, Loid jumped up. Yuri and Dominic did so as well, while the women covered their mouths in disbelief. Yor stared down at herself in shock as her brother and husband clamored around her, though it was Dominic that ended up gathering all the available napkins to sop up whatever wine was left puddled around her.

Franky ultimately didn't fall. He caught himself at the last second, though he quickly wished he'd landed flat on his face and passed out from the trauma. At least then he could have been spared from Twilight's wrath; when Westalis' legendary agent quickly ascertained his wife was alright and promptly spun around, Franky could feel his soul being pulled out from his body. And the worst part about all that was, Loid wasn't alone. For the first, terrifying time, both he and Yuri seemed on the same wavelength. The two pierced through him with blood lust in their eyes. An SSS and WISE agent both teaming up to gut him; hell had certainly frozen over, and Franky felt the chill down to his bone.

"...Franky!" Loid menaced. He said nothing more. He didn't have to. The mere mention of his name alone was enough to make the agent quake in fear.

Yuri on the other hand was far more animated, though Dominic was at least on standby to forcibly reel him in. "How dare you spill wine all over my sister you q-tip-headed moron!"

"Hey now, it was an accident!" Dominic reasoned with a pained smile, even as Yuri tried to break free from his grip in order to pummel Franky's face into casserole.

"...H-he's right," Yor piped up reluctantly. Everyone suddenly got quiet and spun around to face her. "It's fine, you two. I'll just...have to rinse off in the shower real quick."

Loid paused. He looked at Yor to find her already standing up. She hid her face with a frown, and immediately Loid's heart sank. With a muted excuse me, she walked past Loid and the other guests on her way to the bathroom. The party watched in silence as she darted into the bathroom. No one made a peep, not until the door closed behind her; at that point, things picked back up exactly where they left off. Yuri went to rip Franky a new one. Dominic did damage control. Camilla and the girls mumbled to each other in hushed tones, and Loid was left standing there in the middle of it all. He stared at the bathroom, disheartened. He wanted to help, but knew there was nothing he could do at the moment besides keep the party going. He had to. For Yor's sake.

With a heavy sigh, he flipped on the switch once more. Back to being Loid Forger, the perfect family man.

With a fake smile and calm demeanor, he went about trying to put everyone at ease. Yuri was by the far the most difficult of the bunch to appease, but after much pandering (and an honest promise to kick Franky's ass later) Yor's brother finally calmed somewhat. He sat far off at the other end of the living room away from everyone else, and once he settled down the rest quickly followed. Conversation slowly picked back up, even more so once the sound of a shower being drawn came from the end of the hall. Yor was getting cleaned up. She'd be back at the party in no time, and the thought was enough to finally get things back in full swing. Franky was still the odd-man out, but Loid didn't care about that. The twerp.

New house rule, Twilight thought to himself as he went back into the kitchen to pour the ladies some more wine. No more WISE agents at social functions.

#spy x family #loid forger #yor forger #anya forger #bond #becky blackbell #franky #yuri briar #camilla #dominic #sharon #millie #fricken everybody

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twiceblackvelvet · 5 years ago

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Walk It Out

A/N; i have no idea what inspired this but it made me very sad then happy and then sad again. apparently the way i cope in life is to write about jeti. anyway, enjoy.

New York Fashion Week. The epitome of hell if you ask Tiffany. People rushing around everywhere, bloggers furiously typing up reviews on their phone and all for some clothing that is not practical for everyday living whatsoever. If she could skip out on attending, she definitely would. However, it’s become the norm for her to be invited to such events and they always get approved without her being offered a choice in the matter.

Weaving through traffic with only a few minutes left until she’s due to walk into the venue, her manager tries his best to reassure her that they’ll make it there on time. It may be a pain to sit through these shows, but showing up late is simply unacceptable. The majority of the best seats are usually reserved for celebrities with reporters and the like sprinkled in among them, however, if she doesn’t get there soon it’s likely her place will have been taken by one of the many hungry photographers desperate to get closer to the runway to make sure their shots are perfect. Not that she’d mind being stuck toward the back, but, things can be spun so negatively nowadays on the internet that it’ll be seen as her no-showing rather than just not being in her assigned seat.

Between the hours on end it took to get ready because of course, appearance is everything and the thousands of cabs that have decided to suddenly line the streets when Tiffany desperately needs them to be clear, she ends up being the last to walk into the venue where infamous fashion label Yves Saint Laurent is showcasing their latest collection. There are still photographers eagerly snapping pictures outside and even a few fans call out to her as she darts inside, apologizing with every single step that she can’t stop and greet them all. She promises to do so after the show.

There are arrows and people ready to guide any late stragglers inside luckily. She’s pushed before a large backdrop with the brand’s logo for a few quick pictures before being hurried along inside the darkened room with an enormous runway positioned in the center. To say the place is filled would be an understatement. People are crammed together, photographers huddled over each other, yet, the celebrity tables remain untouched and away from the people actually working and not just here to sit and look pretty.

A small woman with blonde hair begins to lead her to her assigned seat, though, Tiffany already knows it’s likely taken. As they get closer, she can see that someone with long brown hair is already seated at the table, though her back is the only thing in sight, she can tell that whoever it is, looks expensive based on the way they are perched on their seat and the clothing they’ve decided upon.

“Here you go.” The guide speaks, her voice barely audible over the people bustling around the room.

However, it seems that the person she’ll spending her afternoon seated beside managed to hear it also as they turn to face the direction of the voice. In one swift movement, Tiffany is met with a sight she never dreamt of seeing in a thousand years and definitely not in a situation like this.

“There must be a mistake.” Tiffany tries to inform the blonde woman, however, she’s already turned and waltzed off to likely guide another late attendant.

“No mistake. Your name is on the card. Don’t worry, I’m just as surprised as you are.”

Truthfully, Tiffany knew that Jessica would be attending this particular show. She had read the various articles that fans had flooded her Twitter mentions with and proclaiming that they hope for the two of them to interact. But, she didn’t think it would actually happen and would not vote to be seated beside her if she had the choice. Whoever decided the seating plan must hate both of them to pull a stunt like this.

For a second too long, Tiffany takes in Jessica’s appearance. Half out of curiosity the other half out of self-consciously comparing herself to her. Fans had done it for so long after Jessica left the group and she took over the majority of her lines in their songs that it’s become an unfortunate habit she’s picked up to think about just how she fares against her once upon a time friend. Her skin is without a single flaw which is intimidating alone, though she seems to be slightly more slender since the last time they saw each other. Which, Tiffany thinks, could have ended up being the last time ever if it weren’t for today.

“Are you going to stop staring at me and sit down? Or do the people behind us need to watch the show around you?” Jessica’s tone is without malice, though her words still seem harsh to Tiffany’s ears which have become unaccustomed to hearing it.

“Do you think that’s a good idea? I probably shouldn’t even be stood here beside you.” She answers, finally.

“Well, you already are. You may as well sit. What harm could it do?”

Oh, Tiffany can think of a lot of harm it could cause if even one person within this room snaps a picture of them seated beside each other so casually as if the distance and lack of interaction between them for the last few years doesn’t exist. Which, they definitely will capture it. It will go viral. They both will be hounded for hours or even days on end about it. Yet, for some unfathomable reason, she does place herself beside Jessica and ignores the consequences her current actions will have. After all, it’s going to spice up what will undoubtedly be a boring experience for her.

“Thank you,” Jessica states flatly. Her eyes avoid Tiffany’s completely though it’s clear she’s deep in thought. “I suppose we’re both going to have to explain this after we leave.”

“Well, yes. I can’t imagine people will just ignore us being together, here, and sitting mere inches apart.”

“No, they won’t.”

The conversation, if you can call it that, comes to a dull end just as the lights dim further ready for the show to start. Out of the corner of her eye, Tiffany can see that every few seconds, Jessica will spare her a glance looking over her entirely and then tries her best to focus on the show. Her fingers tapping gently against her forearm anxiously as if she’s ready to burst from having to be in her presence.

Several models make their way down the runway, every outfit growing more flamboyant as the show goes on. Tiffany thinks about how this is Jessica’s dream and how deep down inside, she’s glad that she’s working towards it, though she won’t be telling her that anytime soon.

The show comes to a pause halfway through to allow the designers to speak briefly. Tiffany takes this as an opportunity to try and talk to the woman beside her once more.

“I can move if it’s bothering you that much,” Tiffany whispers as to not disturb the person on stage speaking.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“Well, I am,” Jessica shuffles in her seat with every word. “I just wasn’t expecting this.”

“You didn’t see the articles?” Tiffany asks her voice louder than previously which gains the attention of the people seated in front of them. She mouths an apology and turns back towards Jessica.

“I saw them. I just figured you’d either no-show or that we’d be on the opposite end of the room to each other.”

As the two women continue to size each other up, neither of them knowing where this reunion of sorts will lead them. A photographer kneels in front of their table face lined with an insincere smile that barely raises his cheeks.

“Ladies, photo?” He asks both of them, politer than either was expecting.

“No, thank you.” Jessica offers for both of them curtly. “We’re not here together.”

“Come on, it’s one photo, surely you can spare me that?” He begs voice lacking politeness and replaced with eagerness.

“I said no.”

“Okay.”

They both answer at the same time and the man decides to only listen to Tiffany’s acceptance of his offer and not Jessica’s denial. He quickly grabs the camera around his neck and points it towards them. They both plaster on faux smiles for the quick picture but Jessica’s ears have begun to turn a bright red. If steam could come out of them, it would have filled the entire room.

“Thanks.” The man shuffles off almost tripping over his own feet, likely thinking about just how much he’ll make from managing to get a picture of the two of them together.

“Why did you say yes? Are you insane?” Jessica’s voice is definitely harsh this time, in fact, it’s flat out filled with anger.

“I don’t know, seemed like an easy way to get rid of him.”

Though she doesn’t say it with words, Tiffany can tell that she’s managed to worm her way out of going against Jessica and that she can’t find a way to fight her reason for allowing someone to no doubt reveal that they’re sitting beside each other today and communicating for the first time in years.

The designers finish up their speeches and once again people storm the runway. Jessica tries her best to remain focused on the show. Tiffany tries her best to remove her focus from Jessica. Neither of them is successful. Luckily, the music accompanying the models walking drowns out their conversation.

“You look well.” Jessica offers first. Tiffany thinks about how difficult it must have been for her to offer the first compliment and decides it’s probably best to reciprocate it even if she’s unsure Jessica will trust her words.

“You do too. Though, you always did.”

It’s difficult to say whether it’s the lighting or not but Tiffany is sure she can see a light blush rising on Jessica’s fair skin.

“I don’t know what to say to that. Or to you, in fact,” They both look at each other but avert their eyes once the staring becomes a little too awkward.

“Me either.”

Jessica ponders on her next words carefully, unsure of whether she should speak it out into the world or allow it to remain inside her head to never be heard by anyone else but herself. Her voice, however, disobeys her insecurity and releases her innermost thoughts.

“I… I missed you.” Her voice cracks slightly as she barely stutters the words out but they manage to hit the intended target. “I mean that. I know that it probably just seems like I’m only saying it because we’ve both ended up here but truly, I missed you.”

Tiffany decides that her eyes must focus on the plethora of women walking upon the stage instead of the one currently threatening to make tears spill from her eyes with her words. Jessica was always described by others as a cold person, yet, there’s nothing but warmth in her words despite them mourning what was once a strong bond and unbreakable friendship that was left in tatters.

Her heart wrenches in her chest when she eventually does turn towards Jessica as she’s picking up her black clutch bag from the table and standing to leave. Out of instinct she grasps hold of her wrist and forces her back down into her seat. A camera click can be heard in their vicinity but Tiffany doesn’t care if the whole world is to witness this moment, she can’t let Jessica leave without telling her that she has felt incomplete since her departure from their group.

“Stay, please.” Jessica does exactly that, though not by choice as she’s placed back into her seat by force. “I missed you too. Things weren’t the same for any of us once you were gone. I know that might seem ridiculous to say since we’re all at fault one way or another for everything, but, something was always missing whenever it was just the eight of us.”

“I figured. I watched a few clips of you guys,” Jessica laughs lightly before continuing. “Is it bad that I always pictured myself in any gaps whenever you were all on stage? Or in photos and stuff?”

“No. Not at all. I used to think sometimes they’d do it on purpose so fans could photoshop you in,” They both laugh in unison, something neither would have guessed would be happening upon Tiffany’s first arrival at Jessica’s table. “I still get tagged on Instagram in pictures of us two.”

“Me too.”

Their eyes meet briefly as the laughter comes to a halt but the air around them feels less like it’s bubbling with tension and more like they’ve just resolved an undeclared war neither wanted to participate in.

“So, where do we go from here?” Tiffany cautiously asks.

“When that photo gets out, I’m not sure we’ll be able to continue this stalemate of ignoring the existence of each other anymore.”

The lights suddenly brighten up the room and both women realize they’ve missed the entire exhibition. However, fixing their issues seems far more important than some hideous blouses. Although, Tiffany is unsure if Jessica will agree as she notices the small scrunching of her eyebrows. They both stand now, though the crowd around them makes it impossible for them to leave yet as they shuffle forward slowly.

“What are we going to say about that by the way?” Tiffany stops Jessica dead in their tracks this time to try and strategize their next move.

“Don’t ask me, you’re the one who agreed to it,” Jessica initially brushes off. “Let’s refuse to acknowledge it and say it was our doppelgangers, that’ll work.”

“Very funny Sica.” The shortened version of her name rolling off the tongue naturally.

Jessica twists Tiffany’s body to face her own so as she can talk in a hushed voice without anyone else around them overhearing her.

“Look, we have two options. We buy the photo before we leave, it never gets mentioned and we go about our lives as if this didn’t happen,” Tiffany tries her best not to seem hurt by this choice. “Or, we let them release it and we tell the world that there are no issues between us. It’s up to you.”

Tiffany’s thoughts flash through her mind at a thousand miles an hour. Could she really deal with all of the questions about Jessica that she’s done her best to get out of neutrally over the years again? How will the other members feel about this sudden appearance of Jessica beside her looking as friendly as possible? Can she go back to ignoring Jessica and forgetting that she’s just admitted to missing her? The choice seems obvious and yet she’s conflicted between them.

Jessica proceeds to walk toward the strange photographer having taken Tiffany’s silence as the answer is the former. But once again, Tiffany manages to pull her back and stops her from erasing their reunion from existence.

“Stop. I can’t just forget you again Jessica.”

For what feels like forever since she’d last seen it, Jessica finally grants Tiffany a smile that feels sincere. They stand stuck in place for several moments simply taking each other in. Neither wants to move out of fear that this was all just a fever dream and when they do things will go back to neither knowing one another anymore. Jessica moves first, though, it’s not what Tiffany expects as small arms wrap tightly around her neck and remain there.

Many people passing by them stare, but Tiffany doesn’t care. Jessica could hug her for the rest of her life and it wouldn’t feel long enough. When it does come to an end, they decide to exchange numbers and agree to keep in contact with one another from here on out. They part upon reaching the doors to the lobby and agree to exit separately so as not to cause the fans still lingering outside to pass out.

Jessica turns in place before she pushes the doors open to leave.

“Hey, Tiffany,” She simply nods in response. “I can still hit those notes better than you though.” Jessica flips her hair as she strides out of the door and away from Tiffany whose jaw is agape but she can’t help but laugh at Jessica still making things a competition between them even now.

Maybe fashion week isn’t so boring after all.

#snsd #girl group scenarios #kpop #kpop scenarios #snsd scenarios #jessica jung #tiffany young #snsd tiffany #snsd jessica #jung sooyeon #girls generation #girl group imagines #girl group reactions #snsd imagines #snsd reactions #jeti #kpop imagines #kpop reactions #jessica x tiffany

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anonniemousefics · 4 years ago

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My Dearest Inej | Chapter Nine

Chapter Masterlist

Originally posted on AO3

Rating: Teen And Up

Synopsis: A series of letters kept among the personal belongings of Captain Inej Ghafa.

Chapter Nine: Temporary Arrangements

My dearest Inej,

I think I’ve stared at the window for the last hour, at the spot where you said you’re in love with me. This can’t be normal behavior, and I should probably be more concerned. Tell me you’re as distracted as I am.

I think I like kissing, but thorough reconnaissance ought to be conducted before we make any real conclusions. At least a hundred similar nights ought to do it, don’t you think? We should really know this thing inside and out – a sentence that I did not intend as a double entendre and now I immediately regret writing it. I would ordinarily be throwing this out and starting again. But you said you wanted it all, not just the sides of me that are acceptable and amusing. So, here we are and now you know. I’m only human and sometimes I write regrettable things in black ink.

Are you’re enjoying how flummoxed you’ve left me? Because I’ve reached truly unprecedented levels of flummox. I’ve done hardly anything this week. I’ve spent a fair amount of time moving some stocks and shares around, and given the high return on investment I’m gaining back from that, I should probably be spending more of my time pencil-pushing anyway.

Gods, I’m boring myself. I’d rather be kissing you again. I’d rather be kissing you than doing just about anything else.

Will you still be amenable to kissing me again if the aftermath of our first kiss turns me into a simple moon-faced, pencil-pushing mercher? Inquiring minds need to know.

It’s mine, full disclosure. It’s my inquiring mind. Tell me when I’ll be able to kiss you next. Come home and flummox me again.

With a disgusting and mortifying amount of affection,

I’m yours,

Kaz

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My most perplexing Inej,

This letter of yours, Inej, was a bit of a ride. It starts out so well, and then… Why wouldn’t you just tell me about the teeth grinding while you were here, if it was that bad? I could have done something, and then you might have slept better. Now what am I expected to do? I can’t very well experiment with solutions on my own, now can I?

I don’t know how to answer any of your questions. Am I meant to read these as concern or condescension? I suppose I still have teeth because it’s not actually as bad as you’re hyperbolizing. I don’t know why my jaw doesn’t hurt. Or maybe it does. Maybe you’ve never met me – something literally always hurts. You live with pain long enough, and it gets difficult to discern after awhile.

Damnit, Inej. This is going to bother me.

I’m not ready to be angry. It’s too nice being flummoxed. I propose a change in subject.

Jesper and Wylan have done something dumb. There have been a string of break-ins in their neighborhood, which I could easily have taken care of for them, but instead Wylan’s gone and decided they need a dog. Which is beyond me – he lives with the best marksman I’ve ever known. A dog isn’t going to improve their situation. And certainly not the dog they’ve picked out.

I think it’s supposed to be some kind of hound someday, but it’s barely weaned from its mother. They’ve named it Ambroos, and the name is bigger than the dog itself. It can fit in the middle of a single kitchen tile. It’s not going to protect them from anything except respectability. I’ve been told it’s already peed on every surface in the house and howls at least four times a night.

Inej, it is so useless and stupid and fucking delightful. It will actually trip over its own ears when it runs to greet you at the door. It sleeps with this hot water bottle that’s nearly twice its size. I find myself visiting it almost every lunch hour. I hate myself. You have to come see it.

All of this goes to say, you have two equally grim options for sleeping arrangements when you return next month. You get to choose between my teeth grinding or Ambroos’ whining and house breaking. You’re really excited to visit now, aren’t you?

Yours,

Kaz

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Inej, most charming treasure of my heart,

Miscommunications happen. We’ll call it water under the bridge. Incidentally, once I stopped grumbling, I did visit a medik for some recommendations. Wouldn’t it be something if maybe my jaw had been hurting this whole time, and I wake up one morning and find myself less loathe to face the day? Maybe you’re about to change my life again.

The medik gave me some muscle relaxer that might help with the way stress manifests at night. You are going to be so entertained with how I’m about to test this out.

I’m staying at Jesper and Wylan’s this weekend. We’re all sleeping in the parlor and taking turns trying to get Ambroos to do his business outside instead of on the rug. They’ll let me know how this muscle relaxer works.

Remember this moment if you find yourself doubting the depths of my love for you, Inej. Think of me standing outside alone in the cold, dark night with the tiniest, dumbest dog in Kerch, all in the hopes that you will sleep comfortably in my bed next month.

Fine – if we’re being completely honest, the dog listens to me, for some inexplicable reason. Jesper and Wylan begged for my help, and we made an arrangement. But the depths of my love thing is still true.

Yours,

Kaz

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Our strong and stalwart Inej,

We send our deepest regrets, but we have to do it. We tried for three nights, but now we’re lying to Kaz and telling him the muscle relaxer works. He can’t stay here again; it’s too awful. The only thing it does is make him sleep like the dead, and then he was absolutely no help with Ambroos at all. So, we’re sending him home and it’s up to you now. Our hands are too full with house breaking for this particular nonsense, too.

Good luck and godspeed, old friend. That is a truly abhorrent sound you’ve discovered.

Our hats are off to you.

With deepest respect and sympathy,

Jesper and Wylan

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

My dearest Inej,

Well, the arrangement failed. Jesper and Wylan obviously cannot withstand the dreaded teeth grinding. They’ve just lied to my face and sent me back to The Slat.

I wish I’d known I was capable of torturing with so little effort. The things I could have been doing with all that extra free time. I’d probably have far fewer scars on my knuckles.

Never fear, my love. I am not so easily deterred. I think I’ll pay a visit to a Fabrikator this week. Maybe I just need to have my jaw wired shut.

This evening took an interesting twist while I was in the middle of writing this letter to you. Someone knocked on the front door of The Slat. No one ever knocks. And then some events transpired, and now there’s a kid asleep in my bathtub. Don’t worry – he won’t try to kill me in my sleep tonight. I’ve locked him in. (Calm down – there’s a toilet, there’s water. What else could a person need?)

Explanations.

There was a kid who tried to mug me on the street one evening a couple months back. I think I told you about it, if you ever got that letter. He had made his own shiv. He was incredibly stupid. I did what I had to do and left him with my card. He had the looks of a good spy, but far too much foolhardy self-assuredness. The Barrel needed to break him a bit more. The Barrel always does.

It’s been cold here this week, and raining. It’s been raining for days. And it seems the kid got desperate enough.

He came knocking tonight, and Pim brought him up. Probably twelve or thirteen by the looks of him, though he’s on the smaller side. I don’t think he’s been eating well. He’s Kaelish and homely as hell, with the red hair and freckles and a giant gap in his teeth. He said his name’s Arthur Galligan. He said he goes by Artie, and he wants to join the Dregs.

For the record, I didn’t want to. I’d much rather leave him on the streets and pay him for information. We have no room here in The Slat. Recruitment has been at all-time high. And Artie’s got that mean, unpredictable spark in his beady eyes still and a smart mouth to go with it. He does not have the air of someone easy to rein in. I fully expect him to try to stab me again.

I don’t know what it is I like about him.

And it’s too cold and wet for anyone to be sleeping outside. We gave him some dry clothes and the only available place in The Slat to sleep: my bathtub. I’ve moved the bed in front of the door so he can’t get out and slit my throat in the night when my teeth grinding inevitably pushes him to the brink of insanity.

I am as dumb as Jesper and Wylan, aren’t I? Damnit.

If I’m found dead in the morning, let this letter serve as evidence of the perpetrator’s identity and motives. Avenge me, Inej.

Yours until my untimely demise,

Kaz

P.S. – I just had this blinding image of the face you’re making while you’re reading this. I will find another room to lock this kid in while you’re here, I swear it. There will not be some Kaelish mugger in my bathtub while you’re in my bed. This is a temporary arrangement. Just so we’re clear.

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Kaz -

Please tell me you let Artie out of your bathroom. Did you ask him anything at all about how he got to Ketterdam? About where his parents are? Is he being fed?? I’ll be there in a week – do not kill this kid before then.

And, for Saint’s sake, stop locking him up alone in rooms in The Slat. Sankta Alina, Kaz. I would stab you, too.

With love and exasperation,

Inej

P.S. – I’m bringing earplugs. Don’t you dare let a Fabrikator anywhere near your mouth. I only just started kissing you. I am not letting you ruin it now with a bunch of wires.

#soc #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #ketterdam #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #nina zenik #fanfic #fanfiction #kanej fanfic #kaz x inej #kaz brekker x inej ghafa #six of crows

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the-odd-job · 4 years ago

Text

Ashes of Icarus chapter 16 - Bleed Me Dry

Warnings: Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Soundwave, Ratchet, Prowl Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Additional Tags: Dubcon, Unplanned Pregnancy, Mechpreg, Sticky Words: 2772

( Previous )

“Pits, Sunstreaker.” Ratchet ran a servo down his face. Prowl was standing behind him, his doorwings tense and a very unhappy frown as his expression.

“I fix you and you break yourself all over again in two hours? I wish that was a new record for you!” Ratchet ranted, but Sunstreaker knew he was more worried than angry. They thought this was the first time in a very, very long time that he had lost it out of his control—that his willing glitching against Megatron had had more effect on him than everyone had initially thought.

Sunstreaker knew this was now the second time his frame got the better of him, though admittedly… He hadn’t fought it as hard as he could have. He was too frustrated, too angry.

Sideswipe had paid the largest price for it. They were equal when both were in control of their minds, but once Sunstreaker snapped… Sideswipe had nothing that could match him. Sideswipe wasn’t damaged in the same way.

Sideswipe never stood a chance.

Neither did Ironhide for that matter.

Or Cliffjumper.

Or Hound.

Or Brawn.

It had taken Jazz’s intervention to end his rampage. The TIC definitely had all the tricks necessary to neutralize him, berserker or not.

Everyone else was only lucky it all had been contained to the training room.

It was the… Fucking worst episode he’d had even long before he had gained near full control of himself. For the longest time they had ended after he had taken down his primary opponent. Everyone knew to just stay out of his way, to not make threats of themselves until he’d run his course.

That should have worked.

It hadn’t, this time. They had stayed out of his way, and he had still scrapped the lot of them.

Now all five of them lay on the medical berths in the medbay proper in various stages of fragging slagged. Sideswipe was the worst of them; he’d beaten his brother straight to unconsciousness. The others weren’t much better off, but really, they were just lucky he hadn’t straight up killed them.

Sunstreaker himself had been confined to a private room under the fear that his mental stability was on a steep decline. And… He wasn’t sure he could really disagree with that assessment. That had been pretty bad, even he could admit that much.

Ratchet didn’t bring it up, though, but Prowl did. He had to, when the safety of the entire Ark crew was brought into question. “How do you feel?” the doorwinger asked him.

Sunstreaker frowned. “Fine.” Aside from the physical things, anyway. His frame was again broken well beyond his ability to categorize the damage, but that was nothing new.

The terse answer definitely wasn’t what Prowl wanted, and his wings twitched before he looked at Ratchet. “How is he, medically speaking?”

Ratchet pinched the bridge of his nasal ridge. It took him a few moments to answer. Prowl waited patiently, Sunstreaker, not so much. He was sort of dying to know how badly his mental health was declining. He didn’t feel terribly bad, but… Stress was his trigger.

And he had quite a few reasons to be stressed, which didn’t work out in anyone’s favor. Push him even a bit further towards the edge, add just one more stressor… Would this just repeat?

He was just going to get locked in the brig for everyone’s safety, if that was how things would go from now on. He’d been there before.

Had for most of the war, really.

“Some of the old code has activated,” Ratchet responded at length. “I was unsuccessful in turning it off or isolating it without bringing Sunstreaker into nonfunctionality as a side effect.”

Nice to know Ratchet had decided to keep him functional.

“So this is going to repeat?” Prowl asked sharply, his frown deepening. Both him and Sunstreaker were staring at Ratchet intently.

But the medic shook his helm. “Not necessarily. It does make it more likely, but he’ll still need a significant trigger to cause the final cascade of errors.”

Prowl mused on that for a moment before he shifted his attention back to Sunstreaker. “What triggered you this time?”

...Right. Wouldn’t they love to know.

“I was thinking about the fight with Megatron while Sideswipe and I sparred,” Sunstreaker answered, and that was half true, wasn’t it? “I think remembering the glitching triggered it again. At least it felt like that.”

Prowl looked at Ratchet for confirmation. The medic shrugged. “Perfectly plausible.”

The tactician nodded sharply. “Sunstreaker, I will keep you in full duty once your repairs are completed. I would prefer if you spent the next month in the brig when you aren’t on duty or away from the Ark, but I won’t enforce that.”

Sunstreaker frowned, but that was fair enough considering the number he’d done on several of his comrades. “I can do that,” he agreed. Partial loss of freedom, then. “I assume I’ll get my supplies?”

“Of course.”

Nice. But, “What about a punishment?” There was no way Prowl would let him off the hook that easily, if only because the other crew members would start a fucking riot if he wasn’t punished for nearly offlining a bunch of them, mitigating factors be damned.

“I will think of something suitable and inform you later,” Prowl said with an incline of his helm. Sunstreaker nodded his acceptance of that. So, hang around in the brig for the time being until he’d proven he wasn’t going to snap every few moments, and wait until Prowl came up with an actual punishment on top of that.

Pretty mild, all things considered.

“If that’s all..?” Prowl asked, glancing between him and Ratchet. Sunstreaker shook his helm.

“I’ll comm. you if something comes up,” Ratchet grunted. Prowl nodded to that before he left the room, the door closing on his heels.

And then it was just him and Ratchet, and that wasn’t how Sunstreaker would have preferred it when Ratchet immediately brought up the one thing Sunstreaker didn’t want to talk about at all. “This is about the sparkling, isn’t it?”

Sunstreaker glared, but Ratchet only frowned back at him.

For the longest time neither of them said anything, Sunstreaker refusing to confirm or deny a damn thing, and Ratchet’s field growing more frustrated by the second.

The medic eventually broke the silence. “Medical confidentiality, Sunstreaker. You can tell me, and no one else will hear about it. Why won’t you trust me?” Ratchet didn’t say it, but it still hung between them: like you have before.

They’d told many, many things to Ratchet, things they hadn’t spoken about with anyone else, because Ratchet would keep quiet. They’d trusted he would keep quiet.

Just… Not about this.

This was too big.

Sunstreaker averted his optics and said nothing. The silence stretched on, and on, and on, but this was one thing he’d never tell to any Autobot.

It would come to light eventually, anyway. It was just a matter of time.

So what did it matter if he sped up the process? Told someone?

No. He couldn’t do that. Pits, he was fragged either way, but he couldn’t do that.

Let time do it for him if it had to.

Ratchet gave up after what felt like an eternity, sighing heavily, and Sunstreaker could feel his hurt no matter how he tried to hide it. “Okay,” the medic said quietly before he straightened himself and brushed it all aside and away. “I will put you into stasis until I’ve done your repairs.”

Sunstreaker nodded, Ratchet plugged in, and stasis it was.

Again.

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

If he had been ostracized for his bad attitude before, now everyone did so twice as hard. It was vexing, but he wasn’t surprised the vast majority of them would react like that to his rather extreme burst of violence. The Autobots were soft, feebleminded things that didn’t speak the same language he and Sideswipe did.

The lot of them had never been to the Pits and back.

And they feared what they didn’t understand.

Megatron had said it. Where Sunstreaker could only feel apathy when it came to his case of insanity, and where Sideswipe just accepted it as it was, his comrades were afraid of it.

Megatron wasn’t. Megatron had fought him, a berserker going berserk, and once he’d won… He had shown no hard feelings. Had only acknowledged the return of his faculties, left it at that. Like it was no big deal.

Was that the overarching theme among all the Decepticons? Most of them originated from the low castes, knew what the life at the bottom was like—if they weren’t straight up gladiators themselves.

Would they understand?

He continued to be tetchy, but while he was sure everyone expected him to snap at any moment, he didn’t feel that level of stress.

At least, so long as he didn’t think too hard about the mess his fragging life had become. Ratchet’s threat hung over everything he did. Even if he’d had some hope of keeping the identity of the sparklet’s sire a secret even once it became impossible to hide he was carrying… That wouldn’t be if Ratchet found out about Megatron.

Sixteen months. That was how long he could pretend his life was fine.

After that… Slag if he knew.

And he had no fragging clue what he expected to happen or what he even wanted Megatron to do about it, but he wanted to inform him of Ratchet’s threat. Just… Pits.

Why?

Because Megatron was the only one who was even halfway an ally in this situation? The only one who even knew? Well, him, and Soundwave. Soundwave knew too. Maybe some other Decepticons too. How could he be sure Megatron saw any reason to keep it to himself?

How sad was that, that the goddamn leader of the enemy army had become his confidant.

The worst enemy of his own leader.

He was going all over behind Optimus’ back. What was some more of that, huh?

They started to take the longer patrols again. No one really questioned it, just happy when Sunstreaker wasn’t grumping around the Ark—and Prowl approved of his supposed attempt to burn out his energy with the long ass drives.

The less he had of that, the less likely he was to bring some more pain on his fellows, right?

But for the longest time, it just didn’t work. Megatron had said they’d be in contact again, but there was absolutely no sign of him even as the days stretched to weeks, and weeks into a full month.

And then there were only fifteen months left for him.

Two more weeks, and he was ready to fucking explode every moment he spent awake. Sideswipe did his best to keep his mood from souring any further, but there was only so much even his twin was capable of.

He didn’t glitch again, though, even if it was a damn near thing a few times. But Sideswipe dragged him from the scene every time, shoved him in their quarters—distracted him.

Month and a half, then they finally got some results. Not in the exact way they were hoping for, but when Soundwave’s signature popped up on their scanners, some ways ahead of them… Frag, it was better than nothing.

So they sped up until they could see the telepath standing on the side of the road, looking their way already.

Waiting for them.

“Where’s Megatron?” Sunstreaker demanded as soon as he and Sideswipe had transformed, stalking towards the blue mech that, to his credit, didn’t back down.

“Megatron: busy,” Soundwave answered. A thunderous growl rose in Sunstreaker’s engine.

“I’m carrying that bastard’s slagging sparkling and he’s too damn busy to show up?” What the fuck?

“Megatron: leader of an army,” and how Soundwave managed to make that mechanical voice of his sound cold, Sunstreaker would never know.

But clearly Soundwave wasn’t too impressed with his attitude. “Soundwave sent instead,” the TIC continued. Sunstreaker threw his arms up.

“So I should be grateful?”

“Yes.”

...Well, he wasn’t expecting that level of bluntness. The brothers blinked at Soundwave before Sunstreaker shook himself off and started to pace back and forth in front of the Decepticon. Soundwave wasn’t Megatron, but Soundwave knew, and it appeared Megatron had sent him for the explicit purpose of–

Actually, come to think of it, how the pit had either Megatron or Soundwave known he had something urgent enough on his mind that it was worth it to just send Soundwave?

“Soundwave: knows all.”

Was that a fucking joke?

“You!” Sunstreaker rounded on the taller mech, jabbing a digit at his chest. “Stay the frag out of my head!”

“No.”

Oh my god.

Sideswipe laughed out loud, prompting Sunstreaker to snap at him too before he went back to pacing around, glowering at the blue mech all the while. “At least slagging wait for me to talk like a normal mech. Seriously.”

Soundwave said no more, so Sunstreaker took that as the telepath’s acquiescence.

No doubt Soundwave knew exactly what was going on in his head already, but he did actually stay silent for the duration it took for Sunstreaker to organize his thoughts enough to put them into words. There were a few false starts, but then, “Ratchet wants to know who the slag the sparkling’s sire is,” Sunstreaker ground out. “He gave us sixteen months before he’s gonna check the spec ops records for ‘Con signatures. And that was six weeks ago.” So, fourteen and a half months anymore.

“Desired course of action?” Soundwave asked.

And if Sunstreaker had known the answer to that, he’d be one happy mech.

But he didn’t, so he stopped in his pacing and dragged both of his servos down his beautiful fragging faceplates. “I don’t slagging know, okay? The sparkling’s signature is gonna become scannable around that time too, right? So someone else might realize who the sire is too. And even if that doesn’t happen, I’ve got no faith in Ratchet being allowed to keep it a secret.”

He could see Soundwave slowly nodding from the corner of his optic. Mech probably knew more about the Autobot code than he did. Soundwave knows all, was it?

So was that confirmation that the identity of the sparkling’s sire would override medical confidentiality?

Sunstreaker’s shoulders slumped. There was no good ending to this, was there?

“Defect?” Soundwave said—asked, offered? Sunstreaker dropped his servos to properly glare at the mech.

“No,” he snarled. Frag it all but he wasn’t going to just defect because of this.

Even if his days as an Autobot were most likely numbered. If nothing else, he was sure to get dishonorably discharged once the command learned about this whole damn mess.

And that was really the best outcome he could realistically hope for. The other options went downhill from there.

Soundwave didn’t argue like Megatron likely would have. He merely nodded again. “Soundwave: will relay information to Megatron.”

“Thanks,” Sunstreaker said and Sideswipe nodded along. At least Megatron would be in the know.

What the slag he would do with the info, Sunstreaker just didn’t know.

And all of this after he couldn’t even be bothered to show up. Leader of an army yeah yeah, but he had slagging gotten him pregnant. Wasn’t that pretty important too?

Soundwave probably heard those thoughts too, but he didn’t say anything about it. “This all?” he asked instead.

Sunstreaker gave it a few seconds of honest thought because who knew when the frag the next time he’d have any line of communication with Megatron would be, but he came up empty. “Yeah,” he responded with a small shrug. “That’s all.”

Soundwave nodded, ejected Lazerbeak, and transformed. Lazerbeak had a glance at them before he grabbed Soundwave into his claws and… Flew off.

Some way to get transported around, geez.

The twins stared after the retreating wannabe vulture for a while before Sideswipe walked over to his side. His brother was still pulsing amusement and Sunstreaker glared at him too for good measure.

But there was really nothing for them to do now, except wait and see what would happen—on any front, be it coming from Ratchet, or Megatron.

Slagging Megatron who sent his goddamn third in command in his place because he had more important things to do than give the time of day to Sunstreaker.

Who was carrying his fragging sparkling.

Oh, the damn mech would hear about that still.

Sideswipe snickered at him before they transformed and continued on their patrol, never to report the ‘Decepticon activity’ they’d already run into.

( Next )

#transformers #maccadams #sunstreaker #sideswipe #soundwave #ratchet #prowl #fic #2020 #ashes of icarus #ashes

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sarcastically-defensive17 · 5 years ago

Note

Hey, so I really like your work so I have a request 👀 maybe you could write Luke and reader being best friends but both having deeper feelings, they're roommates but they fight over Luke's gf bc he says that she needs to move out bc his girlfriend wants to move in and she doesn't like reader so she ends up leaving and running with Crystal but she asks to not tell anyone (except Mike for obvious reasons) that she's there and Luke is really worried but he and reader end up together, pretty please

I LOVE THIS REQUEST!! Sorry if I didn’t do it justice, but I hope you like it!

Also I’m so sorry that the layout went weird! I posted it from my computer and now it looks odd on the phone!

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

Love? Love. - L. Hemmings

"If she gets those fake blonde extensions wrapped around my straightener one more time, Lucas, I will rip them out myself."

He simply sighed, focusing more of his attention on his phone rather than his best friend.

Y/N and Luke has been best friends since they were 17. They kindled their friendship on the very last day of year 12, such as she did with Calum and Michael.

Since that day, as they sat in the barren English Room and discussed everything and anything that came to mind, her and Luke had been inseparable.

She was the Bucky to his Steve, the Yang to his Yin, the regular sized human to his giant stature.

Well, until Suzanna stepped into the picture.

She is 5"7, coated in fake tan that was applied by somebody with the vision of Stevie Wonder and fake blonde extensions that accentuate how beautiful she would be, if she toned down the Geordie Shore look.

Y/N couldn't help but wonder if her personality would be able to shine brightly through the thick foundation, if she had one, that is.

"Thank you for pretending to listen to me, I appreciate it so much," she rolled her eyes.

For the past few weeks the air in the house had been incredibly tense.

"Y/N?" He asked, his voice hesitant. "Can I talk to you about something?"

She couldn't stop her eyes from lighting up. This was the calmest her and luke had been with each other in almost a week, and she would take any chance to talk to him in a civilized manner.

To be honest, the idea of talking to him did nothing to quell the overflowing feelings she had for the man.

"Is that even a question? You can always talk to me, Lu," she sat opposite to him on the lounge, pulling her legs up underneath her.

He was nervous. That was obvious in the way he raked his fingers through his blonde curls. Suzanna constantly hounded at him to cut his hair but Y/N knew how much he loved his hair.

She couldn't deny that she adored the ringlets that decorated his soft locks.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about this for a little bit," he rung his hands together, spinning rings on his fingers. "I, um, I'm gonna need you to move out."

He mumbled the last few words, sighing softly when she asked him to repeat it. It's safe to say, she was at a loss of words.

"You - you want me to move out? Why?" Her eyebrow was cocked, and she tilted her head to the side slightly.

Luke couldn't help but admire how much she resembled a puppy dog. He always found her to be a mix of adorable and purely beautiful. Which is part of the reason he forced himself to say yes when Suzanna asked to take a larger step in their relationship.

He had spent so much time fighting his feelings for Y/N. Suzanna helped, but he still needed to force himself to deny his feelings in favour of the smaller ones he had for his girlfriend.

He was cruel, he knew it.

"Suzanna and I were talking, and we’re ready to move in together. And she couldn't move in here because of-"

"Because of what? Because I can't stand the woman that has cheated on you multiple times?" Y/N was angry, that much she knew. She couldn't believe the audacity. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Well I would love nothing more than for my girlfriend and my best friend to get along but you make it so difficult for Suzanna to get to know you," he snapped pinching the bridge of his nose between his long fingers.

"I gave her a chance before she slept with one of your mates, Luke. As far as I'm concerned, you should have gotten rid of her months ago when she did it a second time."

"Why can't you just be happy for me?" His eyes were narrowed and the blue orbs held the same lack of patience she had seen a lot over the past week.

She opened her mouth to retort but couldn't find the words to say. Truthfully, she was shattered when Luke told her about his relationship, but she decided to be the bigger person and let go of the idea that Luke could be hers. Their friendship has lasted too long for that to be a possibility.

Luke's comment set her off.

"Oh so I am meant to happy for you, with the Geordie Barbie who fucks another guy regularly, but you couldn't be happy for me with Daniel?"

"Daniel was an asshole!"

"And so is Suzanna!"

They were both on their feet now, staring each other down with a ferocity they hadn't seen since an argument in their teenage years.

Sure, Daniel was a bit of an asshole, but Luke knew he was in the wrong for hating the man so fiercely. The moment he had finally worked up the nerve to ask Y/N on a date - a real date - Daniel swept in and the two were together for almost a year until he started getting more controlling.

The last straw was when Daniel flipped because of the close relationship Y/N and Luke shared and Luke threw a punch at him.

"You're jealous," Luke scoffed, his blue eyes aimed anywhere but at her for he knew his anger was unwarranted but he couldn't bare to face the truth about his relationship.

"Excuse me?" She cocked a brow again and he had to glance away quickly as his eyes fell on her for a second.

"You are jealous that I can keep somebody around and you haven't been able to keep anybody around for almost a year." His brows were pinched tight together and he squared his shoulders.

It was easy for Y/N to notice the slight hunch in his posture, a symbol that he was immediately guilt stricken by his words.

"Oh, I'm so sorry that I can't settle for somebody who doesn't deserve me," she barked out a sarcastic laugh, slamming her hand on the bench to grab her keys.

Luke opened his mouth to retort, but she fixed him with a glare so angry that he physically recoiled.

She slipped her vans on at the door, grabbing her bag off of the hook where she organized all of her daily belongings. She was meticulous and Luke had always admired how neat she was compared to his disorganized chaos.

"You wanted me gone? I'm going. Don't bother contacting me til you wake up to yourself," she stomped towards the door, pausing as she pulled the wood open. "I'll have my stuff gone by the end of the week. Tell Barbie to keep my straightener. God knows she fucked it anyways."

The door slammed behind her and the entire house instantly felt as if the warmth was gone.

She went straight to Crystal's house. The woman was packing for the impending move to a new house; one which her and Michael would share.

"So he wants you to move out so that thing can move in?" Her voice was laced with disgust.

All of them despise Suzanna. The woman had hurt Luke more times than they could count, she blatantly ignores or insults both Y/N and Crystal for fear of any sort of threat in her relationship, yet she regularly cheats on him.

Go figure.

Y/N made a noise of agreement around her glass of wine. The minute she had stepped in the door Crystal had phoned Micheal and ordered a Girls Night, to which Y/N profusely demanded that she would make it up to the couple whose date night she disturbed.

"He better hope I don't get my hands on him, Y/N."

"It's not worth it Crys," she sighed, swirling the contents of her glass in a circle. "I've been basically invisible in that house since the Barbie started coming around."

Crystal pulled the girl into a hug. Not many knew of her hidden feelings for Luke, but Crystal figured it out after a week of knowing the pair.

"I'll cut her extensions and glue them to Luke's eyebrows."

<><><><><><>

Exactly a month had passed. Y/N had ordered Crystal and Michael to not speak a word of where she was because she didn't want to see Luke. Instead, she found a small apartment to live in, while she gathered her wits to find a better place.

She knew it was petty, but she didn't have the care to feel guilty.

Luke on the other hand, was going insane and harbored so much regret surrounding his decision that he couldn't bare to think straight.

Moving in with Suzanna did nothing to make the home feel less empty. Y/N had made sure to collect the rest of her things while Luke was out.

She knew his schedule inside and out and used it to her advantage.

Luke wanted nothing more than to see her face. To hear her voice. The time apart made him realize just how deep his feelings went. The same feelings he had spent many years attempting to bury.

Now his only fear was that he would never get the chance to tell the woman how much he needs her in his life.

That, and how he would manage to get rid of the woman who he had caught sneaking out of their house at all hours of the night.

He didn't know what to expect when he entered his house to hear pornographic moans echoing from the bedroom.

He didn't feel angry. He didn't feel sad. He didn't even feel betrayed.

In fact, he couldn't contain his laughter. After all, catching her in the act of cheating on him simply opened the window for him to break up with her without the guilt.

He simply walked towards their bedroom door, which was ajar, and entered with no hesitation.

He was met with the sight of a bare assed male and a moaning Suzanna.

"I'm breaking up with you," he had a wide smile on his face, already planning his next actions with severe determination. He pulled his long curls into a small bun at the back of his head, “Please get out by tomorrow?"

He didn't leave room for her to argue, instead choosing to snatch his keys off of the bench and exit the house while Suzanna called him from behind.

The minute his backside hit the seat of his Jeep, he had the key turned in the ignition and he was dialing Crystal's phone number.

If anybody knew how to get in contact with Y/N, it would be the woman she had the closest bond to.

"What do you want, Luke?"

"Is Y/N at your house?" He asked quickly.

He was met with silence for a moment. He knew that Crystal knew where she was, but he also knew Crystal would most likely be reluctant.

"Why should I tell you? Want to go kick her out of her own house again?" He heard the malice in her voice.

It was obvious that after a month the pain would still linger. He deserved to be spoken to in such a way.

He knew he had a lot to make up for.

A deep sigh sounded through the receiver, and Crystal took another moment to reply.

"She is going to kill me for this, but I swear, you better be taking your breadstick ass over to apologise or I will kill you myself," she recited the address for an apartment not far from where Crystal and Michael now lived, and hung the phone up without another word.

He arrived at the apartment block soon after, and rushed up the stairs - not having the patience to wait for the elevator.

Number 304 shone brightly in his vision, and his heart tugged at the thought of seeing Y/N again.

He knocked with such urgency that caused the girl inside to jump out of her seat.

The door swung open and before she could close it in his face a converse covered foot was wedged between the door and the frame.

He cringed at the pain but refused to move it.

"What do you want?" Her voice was hard, and his stomach lurched at the sound. Even if she was mad, she still sounded more melodic that he ever could.

He chose to jump straight to the point, not wanting to leave room for her to reject him before he could confess.

"I have been in love with you since a few months after we met. I realised it when we were at your house, and you were doting over your baby cousin," His eyes were basically smiling, as he retrieved the fond memory. "Since that moment, I have done my best to push down how I feel about you, but I am sick of hiding it. I just broke up with Suzanna. I walked in on her with another guy, but I can't do this without you. I can't go back to that house for another minute without you there."

She was at a loss for words. He spoke so fast that it took a moment to piece his sentences together, and when she did, she couldn't help the confused look that coated her features.

"You- what?"

"I broke up with Suzanna," he had a wide smile on his face that she couldn't comprehend.

"Finally?"

"Yes. And, I have been in love with you since we were 18."

"Are you sure?" She cocked her head again.

The action made his stomach erupt in butterflies. He truly adored how she could look so cute through a simple gesture.

Y/N was genuinely confused. She knew how she felt about Luke. The month apart from him hadn't done anything to stop those feelings.

She truly had feelings stronger for him than she had for any of her past relationships. If she were to think about it, she would even say that she loved him.

"How could I not be sure?" He pinched his brows together in confusion. He grabbed both of her hands in his, leading her into the house and to the lounge where they both slumped down.

She stammered, "Where did this even come from? How?-"

He moved his hands to the side of her face, framing her confused expression.

She didn't know how to feel. For so long, Y/N had longed for Luke to notice her in such a way, and now that he is admitting that he has felt the same way about her that she had about him for so long, she was truly at a loss of words.

His eyes were full of pent up emotion. He didn't necessarily look sad, but he looked the most apologetic she had ever seen him, and she had been there through many emotions with the man,"Y/N, I'm sorry. Not just for what happened last month, but for everything I have done. I'm sorry I couldn't work up the courage to confess to you so many years ago, I'm sorry I let my jealousy ruin your relationship with Daniel, I am sorry I wasted time with other girls just to try and deny how much I truly adore you, and I am sorry that I ever thought I would be happy choosing anybody over you. I can't stand to live without you, and even if you have zero feelings for me in the same way I feel for you, would you please come back-"

She pulled his hands from her face and put her own on his before crushing her lips against his in an urgent moment of passion.

The contact was full of so much emotion, and it was the most loving kiss she had experienced from any of those who she had kissed.

It was intimate, but not rushed. Simply lips against lips; no pushing to move it deeper.

They pulled back after an unknown time, and she bumped her nose against his.

"I can't tell you how long I have wanted to do that for," she told him, feeling most of her anger melt away along with her confusion.

Instead, they both felt a love that they hadn't felt before.

"Come back, please?" He was ready to beg. Hell, he was ready to not go back to that house until she was ready to go with him.

"My name's still on the lease, you can bet your thick ass I'm coming back. But if I see one blonde hair extension, I will go on the warpath," she smirked at him, staring at his plump lips.

"I'll make sure it's spotless for your return," Luke beamed at her, feeling his nerves both escape his body and ignite at her touch.

"Good. Now get back over here and kiss me some more."

#luke hemmings #luke hemmings x reader #5sos #5 seconds of summer #crystal leigh #michael clifford #calum hood #Ashton irwin

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