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the-hopeless-haze · 4 years ago

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Someone Who, Like it Or Not, Will Want You to Share a Little a Lot

BEING ALIVE Chapter 9

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

A/N: This is my submission for @thatesqcrush kink bingo square praise!kink. Also this chapter went a lot different than I originally planned but it just hit me like a ton of bricks so I hope it’s clear what I’m going for. IDK time to flip the script a little! Also if you saw this posted and disappear it’s because tumblr hates me ok sorry

Content Warning: Smut (ahah) and vague mentions of past abuse (if you’ve been reading the story you know)

Word Count: 5k (sorry lol)

(also how did I never see this gif before fuck me)

“I got you something,” Rafael says. You’re in his office for a lunch break, making sure he eats the salad you’d made for him. Sometimes he still hates you. When you try and shove lettuce down his throat, well, that’s one of those times. But he knows it’s for his own good, like most things you do with him in mind.

“Ooh, we’re doing birthday gifts already?“ you ask, kissing his cheek. "I figured I’d see you later… you’re coming to the restaurant, right? I really don’t think Sonny knows what ‘surprise’ means, but hey. It’s nice of him and the squad.”

“Yes. I know all about it. He hasn’t left me alone for the past two weeks.”

“Nice to know someone cares about me,” you tease, and Rafael rolls his eyes.

“Well, anyway, I figured I’d see you at lunch today, so I brought this one thing with me. I wanted you to wear it tonight. Don’t worry, cariño, you have plenty of other gifts waiting for you at my place.”

“I told you not to go all out. I’m only turning 26. 35 is the next big one.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “35? I thought it was 30?”

"No. I think 30 will be just another one. Everyone makes it a big deal because it ends in a 0, but I don’t think it is. 35 is where the line is crossed. That’s when you’re officially middle-aged,” you say, grinning a little.

“Jesus, so what am I? Ancient?”

“No. You’re still middle-aged,” you giggle. “You’re getting there, though.”

“Mm. Right. Remind me why I spent money on you again?”

“Because…” you drawl, pulling him in by his tie to press your lips to his. And oh, it’s a mesmerizing kiss, like most of them are: one of your hands moves to the back of his head, pulling him in ever closer, and you’re slipping your tongue in his mouth, the acidic tinge of the vinaigrette you had been eating just the jolt he needed to get him to grasp for you. His hands slip under your shirt, earning a gasp from you, but Rafael remembers he’s in his office and the shades aren’t drawn and keeps his hands on your waist. You’re not close enough; you’re never close enough. “That’s why. Right?”

“Right. I forgot,” he snickers, pecking your lips. “Do you want your present or not?”

“Of course, honey.”

So he gets up and pulls out a jewelry box from his desk drawer, taking a deep breath, unsure of why he was so nervous. He smiles awkwardly, walking back over to the table and handing it to you.

“Open it, cariño.”

You do, your hands shaking a little as you unlatch the box, revealing a simple, delicate gold chain with an emerald pendant attached to it. You don’t say anything, your eyes watering as you look up at him.

“Do you not like it?” he asks, cursing himself. He should’ve asked you to pick something else out.

“Rafael, I can’t accept this. How much money was this? I can’t…”

“It doesn’t matter. I bought it for you, and I want you to have it. Do you like it, (y/n)?”

“I love it, Rafael, but it’s too much… I told you not to spend too much.”

Who was counting? He wasn’t above sharing his wealth that he’d worked to accrue. It was nice to be able to give, sometimes, and that was the expectation, wasn’t it? It was your birthday, he was your boyfriend, and he would be damned if he was outdone by anyone on the squad tonight.

"Just let me give this to you. Please,” he says. “And don’t cry.” God, you were always crying. Too much. You were an emotional person, and internalized everything, good or bad. He’d have to talk you out of ways you put yourself down frequently, but lately he’s been finding it hard to be bothered by it, because you’d smile after he smoothed out the knots in your mind, and kiss him like you meant it. “Stand up. Let me put it on.”

“Okay,” you whisper, nodding and getting up. “This is the nicest thing…anyone’s ever bought for me. Don’t think I don’t want it, Rafael, I do, but it’s… I was shocked at first. I don’t want to put you out.”

"Shh,” he says, taking the necklace out of the box and pushing your hair aside. He kisses the back of your neck, placing the necklace on your skin and clasping the hook.

“I like the pendant,” you say, fingering it between your pointer finger and thumb. “It reminds me of your eyes. Thank you so much.”

“I’m glad you like it. I’m not in the habit of buying jewelry, really. I never had anyone to buy anything for, so I didn’t know…”

“You have good taste,” you say, turning around and smiling, but then your face falls a little. “But… Rafael… how long?”

“How long what?”

“How long did you live like that? Alone? I mean, after Yelina, did you ever get that close again?”

He sighs, leaning against the table. He doesn’t want to divulge this, but at the same time he feels like he has to share. “There was a man. I was… 35,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “But we didn’t work out. Guess I didn’t get the memo that that’s when I was supposed to have my shit together. And I just… I just gave up after that. I had flings, but never got that close again.”

"Honey, you know I didn’t mean it like that. I was only joking about the middle-age thing—“

Rafael waves his hand dismissively. “It’s fine, (y/n).”

“You sure?”

“Mm,” he says, putting an arm around your shoulder.

“Eight years is a long time, though.”

"It is… and if I ever seem distant, I don’t mean to be. I’m just used to being alone.”

“I don’t want you to ever get used to that again, honey,” you say, leaning against the table next to him. “You get used to me being here. Soy tuyo y… eres mio.”

He kisses you then, urgently. God, you were going to start talking to him in Spanish now? Even if all you knew was elementary level, he was a goner.

He doesn’t have much time to dwell on that thought, because Carisi’s knocking on the door. “Sorry to interrupt, Counselor, but I need to borrow the birthday girl,” he says, smiling brightly in that annoying way he always did. “We need her more than you right now.”

"What happened? I told Olivia an hour,” you ask, taking Rafael’s hand in your own as he pulls away from your mouth.

“Yeah, well, you know you can ask for an hour… but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna get it. She told me to come pick you up. We got a lead, and if you wanna get out by dinner…”

You roll your eyes at Sonny, then glance at Rafael. "Looks like I have to cut this short. Bye, honey,” you say, kissing him. “Make sure you eat your salad.”

“Yeah, Barba. Gotta get those greens in,” Carisi chuckles as you both give him a look. “What? It’s cute that you worry about his health. My ma, she’s always on my father about taking his meds, and she cooks for him, makes sure he goes for walks.”

“Well, I can’t have Rafael dying on me,” you say, putting on your coat. “I’d miss him too much.” You flash Rafael a smile, heading out with Carisi’s arm around your shoulder.

Sometimes he still feels a pang in his chest when he sees you with Carisi. Things seemed so easy between the two of you, so simple, like you’d been friends for decades as opposed to the months Carisi had been on the SVU. And Carisi was still annoying, God, the man never shut up about anything, and his off-color comments were more than eyebrow-raising at times. In some ways, Carisi was your work-husband, and Rafael supposes that’s to be expected. Partners got close, maybe even closer than some legal marriages.

Another reason why it was a sham. Right? Just because you didn’t have a ring on your finger or his last name didn’t mean you weren’t close to him.

But you could always be closer. Too close for comfort. Wake up next to him every day, brush your teeth in the bathroom next to him while he shaves, argue with him about not taking the trash out on time or something equally mundane. Sounds like hell. Sounds like monotony. Sounds like settling, maybe more on your part than his.

Because who would be able to marry you and call that settling?

Aside from the fact that marriage was always a risk for settling - because what are the odds you pick the right stranger off the streets of New York to bind yourself to for the rest of your life? Another hundred people were always getting off trains, getting on buses, leaving crowded streets to catch planes into or out of this city.

Rafael, though, he was always staying in the same place.

And, even though it may be insignificant in the grand scheme of things, the fact remains that somewhere on some paper in that precinct, your name is next to Carisi’s, billing you as partners. There was no such record of you and Rafael anywhere, not even a Facebook status. And that? From a legal standpoint, if one wanted to be crude, you two were nothing more than friends who fucked. Even if you did live together (which you didn’t) common law marriage wasn’t legal in New York.

So. Legally, if you went down that convoluted path, maybe you were closer to Carisi.

Rafael isn’t sure what to think about that. He’s over the jealousy; it’s been long enough now that he trusts you not to do anything stupid, and as much as Rafael hates to admit it he believes Carisi’s too set in his morals to even look at you suggestively. But it’s still something to think about, isn’t it?

——

“You look gorgeous,” Rafael whispers in your ear, helping you zip up your dress. You did; clad in a crushed velvet emerald long-sleeve number - yet another thing Rafael shelled out money for - and there’s a sense of pride in seeing it match perfectly with the necklace he’d gifted you earlier. “But I already can’t wait to bring you back here.”

“Mm, is that yet another present, honey?” you ask, pressing back against him. “You’ve really been spoiling me.”

“You’ve been a good girl. You deserve it,” he says, chuckling as you shiver.

“We’re gonna be late. Not nice to tease me,” you pout.

“I’ll make it up to you tenfold. Put your shoes on.”

The restaurant is nicer than Rafael thought the squad would pick out when they mentioned this idea to him a few weeks ago, but he has half a mind that they thought Rafael would help cover most of the bill. Which he did, as expected. Give a little, get a lot. Something like that. Like it or not, he’s dating the birthday girl, and he’s expected to be more giving than usual. By you, too, of course, even if you would never voice that assumption. He couldn’t very well buy himself suits that cost two grand for no reason and justify not spending the same amount or more on you on special occasions.

“Hey, happy birthday! Surprise!” Carisi says as you get to the table.

You roll your eyes at him before hugging him. “You said happy birthday to me, like, what? Twenty times today? It’s not a surprise anymore. But thank you.”

“Hey. Dream team. Had to do something for the best pardna in the world,” he says.

“Well, damn, Barba, you got (y/n) dressing to the nines too, now,” Amanda says when she sees you, smiling and squeezing your shoulder gently. “I feel underdressed now.”

“Nah, you look beautiful, Amanda,” you tell her, grinning back. “Blue’s your color.”

“Green’s definitely yours.”

This is the first time the whole squad has gone out with Rafael present since they found out for certain that the two of you were dating, and Rafael isn’t quite sure what to make of the atmosphere. He still feels excluded as the only lawyer present at a table full of detectives, and he thought maybe a known tie to you would change that, but it doesn’t, not much. Everyone falls into telling stories, and tonight they mostly concern you - but Rafael has none he wants to share even if maybe you expect him to contribute to the conversation.

What could he say that they didn’t already know?

Besides, what the hell did they think about him? He can only imagine what went through their heads once it was confirmed that he was dating you.

Isn’t he a little bit, well… too much of a smartass? Tacky, in the sense that he’s still that same kid from the barrio trying to fit in with the upper-class of New York with expensive suits and a brass ego? Old? Short? Aggressive (maybe more so passively)? Neurotic? Peculiar? Depressing?

God, he’s practically old enough to be your father.

Everyone was always trying to set you up with someone before they knew you weren’t single, whether it be Sonny with his Fordham buddies or Amanda with her men from god-knows-where or even Olivia one time with a sergeant from a different department. Maybe it’s because you’re beautiful, and beautiful people don’t stay single for long (unless, perhaps, if they were surly and standoffish, which you weren’t in the slightest). You’re a charmer, even if you don’t necessarily mean to be. A flirt without quite realizing it, without being too much of a threat. Pleasant to be around. Easy to like. A little shy, a little rough around the edges, a little stoic at first, sure, but that was easily overlooked and if someone put in the time, you were an open book.

It was easy to pity you. Maybe that shouldn’t be how he sees you, but sometimes he just can’t help but feel so damn bad given everything that’s happened to you. And he knows that’s how the squad feels too. Sure, you could handle yourself on your own, but no one wanted to let you. It’s in Olivia’s eyes when she looks at you sympathetically, it’s in Amanda’s hand when she squeezes your shoulder, it’s in Carisi’s insistence on putting himself in harms’ way so you wouldn’t ever have to take the fall: Poor baby. We’re the only tenderness you’ve ever known.

And maybe that’s true, maybe this squad was the only kind of lasting kindness you’d ever been shown. You don’t talk much about your past, and that’s fair, because Rafael doesn’t think there’s much that would be pleasant to recount. After the rape, middle school was difficult for you, as was to be expected, and you didn’t have many friends that stuck around. He’s never heard you say a word about high school, and sure, college was probably a lot better than the hell you’d been through before, but you had no one you kept in contact with from there, not even the woman you mentioned sleeping with before. Maybe life hasn’t handed you all the wrong cards: you’re gorgeous, you’re intelligent, you’re great at your job.

But in the interpersonal sphere, you’re lacking, maybe as sorely as Rafael, and that’s something he never quite thought about until now. You didn’t wear it like he did though, and you still had hope, somehow, whereas Rafael’s supplies of optimism had been used up over the years. Maybe one day you’d run out, too.

Leave it to Rafael to bring the melancholy to a birthday party.

But you wouldn’t bring the squad home; you couldn’t. On the nights you didn’t spend at Rafael’s or the nights he didn’t spend at your apartment, you were as alone as he was. He wonders, did you sit there and stare at the walls, struggle to sleep without him by your side… or did you not care?

“Honey, I was talking about you,” you say, giggling a little, and he feels your hand on his shoulder bring him back to the present. “You’ve been out of it, tonight, huh? Anyway, I was going to ask if you’d tell them about your theatre productions—“

“Oh, Jesus, (y/n), why the hell are you going to bring that shit up?” he asks, feeling a slight blush creep up his neck. “I told you about that in confidence.”

“Oh, come on. It’s cute.”

“Yeah, come on, Barba. She’s the birthday girl. You gotta do what she says,” Carisi chimes in.

Rafael glares at him and sighs. "Fine.”

“Floor is yours, Counselor,” Amanda says, winking. “Maybe you can sing for us, too.”

“Fine. I was in theatre in middle and high school. Happy?” he snaps. He knows he shouldn’t be so mean, and this was trivial, but he could do without the little jabs from the squad and your puppy-dog eyes.

“Why do you have to be like that, Rafi?” you ask. “Come on. Tell them the production in eighth grade.”

“This really means that much to you?“

"Will you just tell the story?” you ask. “No one will make fun of you, honey. I won’t let them.”

“Mm. Right. Well, my school couldn’t get the licensing rights to anything actually good that year for the Christmas musical… so we did A Christmas Peter Pan. It was about as awful as you think it would be.”

“What part did you play?” Olivia asks. Of course she’s the only one at the table who’s not tittering with laughter.

“I didn’t try out soon enough, and they didn’t have any parts left… so I played the crocodile.”

Amanda damn near spits out her drink, and Rafael rolls his eyes as Carisi laughs heartedly and Fin and Nick try and fail to not crack teasing smiles.

“I just really can’t picture that, Barba. Damn,” Carisi says after he calms down. “How bad was the costume?”

“What do you think a middle school theatre department could put together?” Rafael asks, narrowing his eyes. “Anyway. I didn’t have any lines, at least.”

“No, but you had three scary entrances,” you tease, grinning brightly and squeezing his shoulder. “Hey. It was your debut. I can’t wait until I get your mother to show me pictures—“

“Send them to me,” Amanda says. “I’m begging you.”

“I’m going to get my mother to burn that scrapbook before you’re ever in its vicinity,” Rafael mutters, chuckling.

“Aw, come on, honey, don’t be like that. You know I’d never let Amanda see them. Sonny, maybe—“

“Hey!” Amanda interjects while Rafael shoots you a withering look.

“No, I wouldn’t let him see them either. Some things are actually meant to be shared in confidence,” you laugh. “But anyway, Rafael went on to bigger and better things. He played Kenickie in Grease sophomore year, right? And you got the lead senior year?”

“Mm. Nathan Detroit. Guys and Dolls.”

“I have no idea what that is,” Carisi says.

“Of course you don’t,” Rafael retorts.

“It was a big part. He says his mother has a tape of that somewhere—“

“Are you trying to kill me, (y/n)?” Amanda asks exasperatedly. “The knowledge that that’s on film and I’ll never see it?”

“Mm. Deal with it. That’s not the one you wanna make fun of though,” you say. “Rafael can sing. He never will in front of you guys now, but he can.”

Right. Little things he’d shared with you, maybe without even meaning to, and now you could list them off as nonchalantly as if you were talking about yourself. Did any of his ex-lovers ever bother to learn all his amateur theatre roles front to back?

Thankfully, the waitress brings the cake over after a few minutes, saving him from more humiliation, and everyone, even Rafael, obliges and sings ‘Happy Birthday’ to you before you blow out the candles.

“Well, our blessings, (y/n),” Olivia says, grinning.

“Don’t tell your wish or it won’t come true,” Fin chuckles.

“Actually… I didn’t wish for anything,” you say, shrugging.

“What do you mean, you didn’t wish for anything?” Carisi asks.

“Tell, but lie,” Nick says.

“Nah. I’ve got everything I want. Thank you for including me in your thoughts, your lives—“

“Aww. Stay exactly as you are, (y/n),” Carisi says, reaching over to squeeze your hand. “What a sweetheart, huh, Barba?”

“Everyone adores you, (y/n),” Amanda laughs. “What an awful thing.”

Yeah. Everyone did adore you - but you weren’t an unshakable tenant in anyone’s life.

And, come to think of it, neither was Rafael. Rafael was always confused as to why the hell you even approached him all those months ago, flirted with him, got him to buy you dinner… but fuck, it was clear now. You were alone, grasping at straws just like he was. A couple months in the city you dreamed of living in since you were a child provided you with nothing more than acquaintances you worked and occasionally got drunk with, and maybe it was human nature to want more than that.

Yet here you were insisting that you didn’t wish for anything. What the hell? Didn’t you want more than what Rafael was giving you? Shouldn’t you?

Fuck if he knows. He’s not even sure what he wants anymore, never mind what you want.

——

Rafael has never been above sharing his body for someone else’s pleasure. It felt good to give in this regard, and fuck it, if anyone deserved to have a good, healthy sex life it was you.

It had been a long road to get you comfortable - yes, the first time you had sex with him you were more than a willing participant - but he’d notice sometimes when he initiated things, you would space out and become unresponsive. That was absolutely not going to work for him. He’s been prosecuting sex crimes long enough for that to turn his stomach in the worst way. The last thing he’d want is to take advantage of someone who was lying underneath him just because they thought it would appease him, not because they genuinely wanted to be there.

You got mad at him the first time he brought it up; said he was reading too much into things - but eventually you came around and admitted what had made you uncomfortable, what had turned you off, what had made you freeze, and what it came down to was years of trauma that no one had bothered to work through, not even yourself. What started with the rape went on to college boys who wouldn’t keep their hands to themselves and tried to pressure you when you weren’t ready - and you’d never quite learned to say no. You said you didn’t want to share this, didn’t want him to think you were some perpetual victim or that you didn’t enjoy sex - because you had had positive sexual experiences aside from Rafael, obviously - but sometimes all it took was a touch in the wrong place and you shut down. You still had issues here and there, but at least you’d actually fucking talk to him now, which was progress. He would’ve thought for an SVU detective with a psychology degree this wouldn’t be an issue, but maybe it’s how it goes - you put all your energy out there for the victims and you never learn how to unlearn your own toxic thought cycles and behaviors.

Also, Rafael learned, through trial and error, that you liked to be praised. Maybe it was after years of being ashamed of your body and sex, after years of feeling like you were inexperienced because you never met anyone worth having experiences with… but it was almost like you got off on it and Rafael wouldn’t really mind if that was the case. You are a good girl - his good girl - especially now, as he’s sitting at his desk chair in his apartment and you’re riding his thigh, your dress ridden up to your waist. Your lips are kiss-bruised and you’re so wet he can feel you seep through your panties to his dress pants.

Fuck it if you ruined them. Fuck it if you ruined him.

“Yes, good girl, you gonna get off on my thigh, (y/n)?” he asks, his voice low in your ear.

“I don’t know if I can,” you laugh. “Might need some assistance.”

“No, I think you can. Want you to try it. You think you’re close, mi buena chica?”

“Mm, don’t know. I didn’t think I was gonna have to work this hard on my birthday,” you say, leaning down to kiss his mouth. “Don’t you think those hands could be of good use somewhere?”

“Maybe. Where do you want them?“

"Mm, fucking everywhere,” you drawl.

For Rafael, sex was always just fun. Usually, it was better if he knew the person at least a little, but after Yelina, he didn’t care as much and was a little more of a libertine. Sex with you, though; it’s different - it’s a conversation - maybe like it’s supposed to be, sharing what you can’t or what you won’t say with words.

Maybe he should feel more flattered, because you were sharing a lot, too.

Rafael gives you what you want, though, cupping your breasts as he kisses you, murmuring words of encouragement in your ear in between - “Yes, just like that, you can do it, come for me, such a good girl, come on, cariño” - and when you do finally fall apart, he peppers your face with kisses. “See? I told you.”

“Mm. Sometimes you’re right,” you giggle, kissing the side of his mouth. “But I’m not working that hard for the next orgasm.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckles.

And you don’t; Rafael brings you over the edge with his tongue and fingers, but you’ve barely come down from your high before he’s on his back, at your mercy instead.

“What are you doing? Didn’t think you wanted to work for it anymore,” he teases as you press kisses on his chest.

“Nah, you’re gonna fuck me, hombre, but I want to do something for you first,” you purr, trailing down lower, lower, lower…

“It’s your birthday–”

“Mm. Yeah. But now I just guaranteed that you have to go down on me on yours,” you giggle. “No. We’re not counting favors here, right? Just let me.”

And you’re so good. You always are, but every time just seems to get better as you learn more of what he likes, what gets him off. He wonders vaguely if he you feel that way too, but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on that as your lips wrap around his cock. “Fuck, so good, (y/n),” he hisses. If he wasn’t almost painfully hard before he definitely is now. “That’s it, oh fuck.”

One of your hands comes to cup his balls gently as your tongue and lips work his cock and it’s hard to remember that you were ever tentative giving him a blowjob before. Maybe that’s the thing about sex; everyone thinks they need experience to be a good lover, but maybe they don’t. Maybe they just need to listen to their partner. Rafael’s slept with people who have slept with countless numbers of people but no one’s ever learned his body like you, and your count was much lower. Granted, Rafael never quite allowed himself this type of vulnerability with anyone else in recent history, either, but it was only fair that if some of your walls came down some of his did as well.

Still, he has to make sure you know that by gasping out praise and encouragement, tangling his hands in your hair, being careful not to pull too harshly. “Fuck, so good at that, sucking my cock so good, se buena, mm, fuck.”

Eventually, though, Rafael can feel that he’s dangering the brink and has to stop you. Switching positions again - you’re on your back for him now - and he’s lining up his cock with your pussy, making sure you’re still good. With your consent, he enters you, groaning softly at finally feeling you wet and warm around his cock.

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?” he grunts as he starts fucking in and out of you, slowly at first.

“I’d hope you think so,” you say.

“Think - no. You are. Fucking gorgeous.”

Your cheeks flush a little and he can’t believe you still get flustered when he tells you that. But you are a vision - hair splayed on his pillow, your breasts heaving in tandem with your breath, your skin shining with a slight sheen of perspiration. Yeah. Fucking gorgeous.

And, oh fuck, now you’re clawing at his back, scratching with your nails. A shiver runs down his spine as he fucks into you harder, “That good?”

“Fuck, yeah, Rafael, fuck me,” you whine and he leans down to press a searing kiss to your mouth.

“Mm, so pretty, taking my cock so well, cosita bonita, so good for me,” he rasps in your ear.

You’re meeting him thrust for thrust; the only sounds Rafael can hear is the slap of skin on skin and his heart pounding in his ears as he kisses up and down your neck. “Mm, Rafael, feels so good,” you purr, and yeah, now he can see why you get off on those simple words of encouragement.

It’s not long before the two of you reach your highs and come down, a panting, tangled mess twisted up in his bedsheets. “Mm. Feliz cumpleaños, cariño.”

“Yeah, happy birthday to me,” you laugh, leaning over to snuggle against his chest. “Fuck, I’m exhausted now.”

“Thought I was supposed to be the old one.”

“Like you could go for another round right now.”

“Try me, mujer,” he chuckles. “Shower?”

“In a minute,” you giggle. “Let my heart rate come down a little.”

The two of you lay there in silence, your breathing rates settling while Rafael’s mind sets off to the races again. You were right, earlier, eight years was a fucking long time and it didn’t get any easier to be alone.

It doesn’t get any easier to be with someone, either, though, like when you wake him up too early in the morning and ruin his precious sleep, or when you make snide remarks that ruin his day and bruise his ego or, worst of all, as always: when you see right through him, like the front he puts up just doesn’t exist.

Maybe, though, maybe he’s a masochist because god forbid you leave. Here he was, carving out hours of his precious time; time he used to tell his mother he never had to spare, and sharing it with you. And you wanted him to.

Rafael doesn’t know what the hell to make of that.

Tag list: @caked-crusader @thatesqcrush @law-nerd105 @arabellathorne @blackeyedangel9805 @moon-river-drifter

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itsthestutterforme · 4 years ago

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Back Home (BAU Team + Blair Redford)

The case that the team was working on was in Atlanta, Georgia, Y/N's hometown. Y/N's ex still works in Atlanta PD and cannot keep his eyes off her. Rossi believes that Y/N has some unfinished business with her ex and encourages her to stay after the cass.

Characters: David Rossi, Blake, Jennifer Jareu, Aaron Hotchner, Blair Redford

"Well, well, well, isn't Miss Hotlanta," Morgan teases as I hop on the jet. "Here we go," I say, sitting across from him. "How do you feel about heading back home?" Morgan asks. "Well, I wish it was under better circumstances. But I never get tired of heading home."

"Your entire family are cops, right?" Reid asks. "Yes," "Yeesh, I could only image what what going through your date's head when he found that out." Rossi says.

"Oh my dad made sure of that I didn't have one," I say, making everyone chuckle. "I would be the same way if I had a daughter," Hotch states. "So.. how did you do it?" JJ asks. "Do what?" "Sneeks boys in,"

"A magician never reveals her secrets," I say, crossing my legs with a small smirk perched on my face. "Y/N, you sly dog." Morgan teases. "Oh? Would you like to reveal your tactics, Chocolate Thunder?" I taunt.

"Hey, only I call him that!" Garcia says over the computer. "Simmer down, baby girl. I'm yours and only yours." Morgan flirts. "You better be," she snaps with a smile. "Alright, let's get started." Hotch starts

After the jet lands, the team drives to Atlanta PD. Y/N and the team walk into the Atlanta PD when balloons started popping and horns blew all at once. "Well Back, Y/L/N!" They welcome and Y/N could help the big smile plastered on her face.

Y/N started out as a rookie cop for a decade before applying for the BAU team. Everyone she used to work with swarmed her with hugs and kisses.

Blair, Y/N's ex, introduced himself to the rest of the team while Y/N was occupied. He showed them a room to set up and watched as Y/N smiles widely. She slide herself out of the swarm of people with some garlands wrapped around her neck, a shiny black hat and red lipstick marks on her cheek.

"Blair," Y/N greets as she approaches him. Blair wastes no time lifting Y/N into his arms. "Hey, baby," he belows, his voice vibrating both her chest and his. They hold each other for a moment or two and they both closed their eyes in relief.

"It's been too long," he says as he pulls away from me hesitantly. "Tell me about it,". Y/N tucks her hands in her back pockets and Blair adds, "You look great." "Likewise. You've definitely been hitting the gym." Blair was at a severe battle of wills.

Y/N and Blair ended on a good note but there was so much potential left untouched. Blair was pining after her since high school and nothing has changed. "The team needs me. We'll keep you posted." Y/N says touching his arm once again before leaving.

"There some cupcakes and ice cream in the break room for ya. Courtesy of Jill," "Gotta love Jill, am I right?" "Thank you," Y/N adds before walking into the conference. "Looks like someone was missed," Morgan says, referencing her gettup.

"You talking about her co workers or her ex that is obviously still in love with her?" Rossi asks. "Mmm, both." "Let's just focus on the case, please." Y/N says, sitting down and keeping the garland and hat on her body. Two days later, they catch the unsub and Rossi calls Y/N back for a moment.

"What's up?" "I think you should stay here for a day or two?" "Wh-- are you sure? What if we're called in for a case?" "We'll handle it," "Is Hotch okay with this?" "Yes, you clearly have some unfinished business. Don't let us hold you back."

"But--" "No buts," Rossi interrupts. Everyone packs up their things and Hotch says, "See you in two days." "Call me if you need anything," Y/N calls after them and Rossi says, "We won't!" Y/N huffs as she places her hands on her hips.

She takes a cab to the hotel and checks out before taking her things to her house. Her family greets her with hugs and kisses and of course they bring up Blair. "So have you seen Blair? He looks pretty good, huh."

"Yes, he does." "He's the reason why you stayed, isn't it?" "No, my coworker insisted that I stayed because he claimed that I have unfinished business." "I like this co worker of yours," Mom says.

"I think you should visit Blair," Y/N's sister suggests. "Of course you do," Y/N says, rolling her eyes. "He's always asking asking about you." "Why?"

"Come on, Miss Profile. He's loved you since he knew what love was. Just stop by, that's all I'm asking." Y/N's sister states. "Ugh, fine." Y/N stood up from the couch and walks up the stairs to take her shower. Her sister harassed Y/N as she got ready, I guess that was her special way of saying I missed you.

"You look amazing," Mom says. "Thanks, you don't have to lie tho." "Oh stop," Mom says, nudging Y/N's arm. They embrace one another in a long hug before Y/N leaves to go to Blair's.

Y/N's POV

I walk up the steps and raise my hand to knock on the door and it flings open. Blair rushes out of his house and stumbles right into me. My heels get caught on the first step and I could feel my entire body launching backwards. Blair catches me and pulls me into his chest.

"Y/N, what are you doing here?" "I just wanted go come by and say hi. Where are you going in a rush?" "Uh, the gym. The boys are waiting for me." "Oh, right. I'm sorry, I should- I should've called first." "No, no, I can cancel. It's not every day that I have the Y/N Y/L/N at my door." I couldn't help the blood rushing to my cheeks in embarrassment.

"Are you blushing?" he taunts, taking full advantage over how physically close we were. "No," I bite my bottom in nervousness. "Tsk, tsk, you were a bad liar then and a bad liar now." He tucks a few hairs behind my ear and traced his index finger along my jawline. He pulled my lip from underneath my teeth with his thumb.

"What are you doing?" "What I've wanted to do for years," he says against my lips. "Take me inside first?" Seconds later, he lifts me up and wraps my legs around his waist. He carries me inside and kicks the door closed.

My back is pressed against the door as he attacks my neck with kisses. He sucks on the nape of my neck and pulls away to take off my dress and bra in one swift motion.

I cross my ankles behind his waist to make sure I don't fall. He cups my breasts into his hands and rub the sensitive buds with the pads of his thumbs. I rest the back of my head against the door as my mouth falls open.

My back archs as he takes one nipple into his mouth while rubbing the other with his thumb. I pull his head away from my chest and press a series of kisses on his lips.

Our lips move in perfect sync and my body became warmer with every kiss. He carries me into his room and he gently sets me on the bed. He nudges me on my back and settles himself between her legs.

I could feel his bulge pulsating against my thigh and when I reach down to touch him, he holds my hand. "My focus is on you right now, baby." "But--" "No buts," he presses painfully slow kisses down neck.

He moves down to my chest and slides his hands into my underwear. He moans as he feels my dripping folds. "Fuck, Y/N," he sinks two fingers into me and my hips lifts from the bed. He fingers matches the pace of his kisses down my body, painfully slow. "Oh come on, baby, please move faster," I beg as I buck my hips against his fingers.

"Don't tempt me. You know what happens when I lose control," "Yeah, it was the best sex I've ever had," "You also had bruises all ov--" I wrap my hand around his throat and lean in go press a hot kiss on his lips. "Fuck me like you hate me or I'm leaving," I whisper against his lips.

His eyes pierce into mine and my heart races with excitment. "Go get the rope," he commands.

The elevator dings as I reach the first level of the BAU. I walk with an uncontrollable pep as I sip on my coffee that I put in my thermos. I had to wear a long sleeve turtleneck for obvious reasons.

Blair's favorite chain that he gave me, perches on my chest. I walk up the steps to the conference room and all of the conversations came to a halt.

"Don't stop on my account," I say as I sit down between JJ and Blake. "You look vibrant," JJ starts. "Interest choice of words," I say. "Oh look at that, she's glowing," Garcia says.

"Oh my God, guys, please," "You should to Atlanta more often," Morgan taunts. "So help me, Morgan." "I knew it was a great call to convice you to stay." "You know you're never going to live this down, right?" Morgan states.

"Right," I repeat. "Let's get started," Hotch says as walks into the room. "Y/N, glad you could make it." Hotch says with a small smile tugging at his lips. "No, not you too." "Now I know exactly where to send you to.. unwind," he adds. "For the love of God,"

#blair redford #blair redford fanfiction #criminalminds #bauteam

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fanficflaneuse · 4 years ago

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One Day - Part 10

A/N: Dear magical tumblr friends, we’ve reached part 10. I’m sorry if it’s not that good. I was really excited to write it, but today I had to do a bunch of things for my graduate applications and it was just hectic. Still, it is Draco Malfoy’s birthday and I didn’t want to let the day pass without uploading a big, nice chapter. I hope you like it either way.

Also, before we start, I feel the need to express my utter love for Theo Nott and Astoria Greengrass lol. I don’t hate them. In fact, if anyone wants to recommend some Theo Nott fanfiction, I’m all for it.

Let’s do this!

Draco x reader (she/her pronouns) Word count: 1921 Summary: One day AU. Post-war. Since The Battle of Hogwarts, Draco and y/n meet one day a year.

Masterlist

Enjoy!

3 May, 2009

“What is this?” Draco asked in awe, motioning to (Y/N)’s hair.

“It’s my take on the French bob,” she answered playfully.

Every time he saw her, Draco found (Y/N) more beautiful than before. This time, though, he swore she was actually glowing. She had gotten a haircut and now her locks framed her face differently. She dressed so…French now, which he found adorable and incredibly sexy. And her smile was bigger and brighter than he had seen in years. In general, this version of his best friend made him feel like a teenager again.

Draco had been postponing this trip for weeks now. They had not addressed the issue yet, (when had they ever?) but everyone knew that the moment one of them reached out for the other, things would finally be settled. Their friends were tired of seeing them clumsily stumble through their feelings. That’s why Astoria took Scorpius to the Nott’s chalet on the Swiss Alps and practically forced him onto a train to Paris.

Astoria and Draco were not exactly the closest friends, but they had a son together and for his sake they maintained a more than civil relationship. She had settled down with Theo Nott, marrying him just after the divorce was finalized. They were happy together and she wanted his son’s father to move on as well. She was not only moved by a sense of guilt; deep down, Astoria had always known that the connection Draco and (Y/N) had was deeper than she would ever comprehend.

Whatever the case, the feeling of elation that washed over him as they held each other at Gare du Nord made him grateful for being alive again. He had butterflies in his stomach and a tingling all around. As if their bodies were connected, (Y/N) could also feel something electrifying. They hugged for the longest time, as if they weren’t in a crowded station with people rushing around.

(Y/N) and Draco walked arm in arm to her apartment in Montmartre. He still had a lot of questions about muggles, so she enjoyed pointing things out for him as they strolled. He had been to Paris countless times in his childhood and even once with Astoria, but this felt different. Walking with (Y/N), listening as she told him about the things she did every day, the places she frequented and the muggle history behind them felt like a dream come true. (Y/N) was very excited about taking him to a bunch of places and she numbered cheerfully all of the activities she had planned for them. Draco wished he could live in this moment forever.

“So, you’ve been consistently on the Prophet’s Best Seller list for almost a year and now you’ve won the Beedle the Bard literary prize. Don’t you dare to forget about your commoner friends, (Y/L/N),” he teased.

“You’re hardly a commoner, Healer Malefoy,” she taunted back, using the French translation of his last name.

Draco rolled his eyes playfully. “But really, you’re conquering the world one book at a time and I cannot be prouder…of myself for still having your original poetry saved somewhere at home.”

(Y/N) snickered. “I guess magical readers like the flavour of muggle literature. ‘That Kafka fellow? An absolute genius’,” as she quoted him playfully, Draco’s heart flipped.

When they reached the apartment, Draco observed everything in astonishment. Each little detail around the house embodied her. From the towers of books that flooded the flat to the position of the sofa by the fireplace, the rickety spiral staircase leading to the second floor, the creamy colours of the walls, the muggle paintings – she would later call them ‘impressionist’ –, the huge windowpanes and the mismatched yet harmonious furniture, it was all her. Draco had never seen a place represent a person so well. Even more surprising was the feeling that invaded him as soon as he set foot inside; he sensed that he had finally arrived home. He was Odysseus returning to his beloved Ithaca and he never wanted to set sail again.

They goofed around for a while, talking nonsense as they drank some very expensive wine. They danced around the room, enjoying the different layers to muggle music. Lately, (Y/N) had got then both hooked on muggle jazz. Draco relished greatly how the music seemed to pierce through them as they swayed around the room.

As the sunset painted the sky with colourful swirls, Draco stood by the window, observing the rooftops, the quaint streets and the Eiffel tower at a distance. (Y/N) took in his form. He looked much better. He stood taller; his shoulders no longer sagged forward in defeat. The bags under his eyes were practically gone. She could tell he was eating more. And he seemed generally happier. It made her smile.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go anywhere tonight?” she asked softly, walking towards him.

He turned to face her and nodded vehemently. He knew what he wanted to do. But it was only about an hour later, when they were cuddling in her bed, that he delved slowly into the much-awaited conversation.

Draco’s head laid on (Y/N)’s stomach. He was facing her way, eyes closed as her fingers worked their magic on his scalp. He was thinking about the right way to say it. And it all started off clumsily.

“So, Olivier Flamel, huh?”

“Yes,” she sighed.

For a while, (Y/N) had dated Olivier Flamel, a descendant of the one and only Nicholas Flamel, who, not coincidentally at all, was also a big-shot alchemist. It had ended like most of her relationships and flings in the last few years: casually, easily, no real pain for either part involved because they hadn’t been really that involved.

“Do I have to hex him?” Draco asked seriously.

(Y/N) snorted. “Ron asked me just the same,” she explained when he shot her an amused look, “And of course not, Dray. Olivier is an amazing guy. There was a lot of chemistry between us and we had a very passionate affair. But ultimately, we were just so different.”

Draco was invaded by a horrible feeling of envy when she talked about their amazing chemistry, but he did his best not to show it, to be rational and kind.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, even though he already knew. He needed the confirmation that still didn’t have feelings for him.

“You know it’s fine,” she shrugged, “I guess I’m just shook. For a while there I was half of the ‘it’ couple of the French wizarding jet set. It was a wild ride. Way too much to handle”.

Her cheeky smile then turned into a more concerned gesture. “How are you holding up?”

To say that (Y/N) had been surprised by Draco and Astoria’s divorce was the understatement of the century. The only thing she was certain of was that she didn’t want to see Draco suffer like that ever again. It had made her physically sick, to see him in so broken. She had been there through every stage of his grief. She helped him move back to Malfoy Manor. She took care of Scorpius on the days in which he couldn’t get out of bed. She cried with him. She got drunk with him. She was the big spoon. And through it all, (Y/N) only real target was to help Draco’s heart heal.

“I’m alright now. In hindsight I guess I am not surprised, you know? Our relationship was doomed since the beginning. The most important thing to me is Scorpius and I believe we’re handling it well, the share custody and all. He’s a happy boy.”

(Y/N) kept caressing Draco’s hair. There was a painfully long silence. The feeling of repressed words and feelings clouded the air. They had kissed a couple of times before. Once they had a very heated make out session that almost leads to them shagging. But they hadn’t talked about it. Every time it happened, they would just ignore it and carry on, as if they were not both elated by it. (Y/N) had spent countless nights telling herself that she wouldn’t kiss him again; she didn’t want to be Draco’s rebound.

“We totally suck at this love thing, don’t we?” (Y/N) finally said.

Draco’s heart was beating hard on his chest. It was now or never. “I don’t think we suck at this ‘love thing’,” he pointed out, raising up to face her, “I think we have ignored the right person to do the love thing with”.

(Y/N) regarded him seriously for a second. This is really not how she thought the infamous conversation would go. She was braising herself for yet another disappointment. And now here he was, saying the things she had wanted for so long. A lot of mixed messages were bouncing in her mind.

“You mean us? Together?” (Y/N) sat up, “Dray, don’t you think that boat sailed about a decade ago?”

Draco’s smile fell. He was certainly not expecting that. All of a sudden, he felt an emptiness in his stomach and an urgent need to cry. “D-do you really think so?”

“The timing is never right,” she breathed out.

“Look at us now, love. The timing is perfect,” he said before kissing both of her cheeks.

(Y/N)’s eyes welled with tears. “I don’t want to be your rebound, Dray,” she softly.

Draco looked at her, his expression softening. “I’ve been in love with you for the longest time, (Y/N). I pushed you away, convinced that I was doing the ultimate sacrifice for you. I wanted to save you from, well, me. You deserved better. You still do”, he heard her scoff, “But I guess that doesn’t matter anymore.”

They looked at each other intently. “Now,” he said dramatically, “I’ve come all this way to confess my undying love for you…”

“Idiot,” she muttered playfully, the widest and most genuine smile plastered on her face. He inched forward and kissed her face again: her forehead, her cheeks, her jaw, her neck. (Y/N) felt like she was floating on a cloud.

“I want to be yours, (Y/N). I want you to be mine,” he whispered in her ear, before kissing her on that soft spot he knew made her breathing hitch.

“Draco, I swear if you hurt me, if you use me as a rebound, I swear to Circe I’m going to hex you and never talk to –“

He shook his head. “I will never hurt you, (Y/N/N). I am in love with you.”

“I’ve always been yours, Dray,” she said, softly.

“As I’ve always been yours,” he answered.

They looked at each other then, eyes full of adoration. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. His eyes quickly set on her lips before meeting her gaze again. (Y/N) pressed her lips to his. It was, by no means, the first time Draco and (Y/N) kissed. It was, though, the best one they had shared to date. It started sweet and loving, but its intensity raised as the minutes went by. Their feelings let loose, pressing themselves unfiltered with each caress.

“I love you, Draco,” she said breathlessly.

He pressed (Y/N) to his chest, kissing the top of her head multiple times.

“Say that you love me again,” he almost pleaded, his voice small and a bit ashamed. Draco couldn’t believe his ears and he wanted every confirmation he could possibly get.

“I love you, Dray,” she said, pecking his lips, “I love you.”

tags: @fandomscombine @okaydraco @naomi02hook @iliketoast23 @winnsmills @oldfashionedlovergirlsblog @happycomb @xtrashmouthxtozierx @animelover09556 @hopplessdreamer

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itzagothamcitysiren · 4 years ago

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Welcome to the Family

So like, work as been so busy and I’ve either had no time to write or have been way to burnt out to write. I hoping I’ll be able to again tomorrow night because I have a cute idea for a one shot that I literally have been thinking about since last Thursday but just have had no time to write.

Like You Imagined When You Were Young pt. 2

Halley jumped off of the bed quicker than she had jumped back onto it, rushing to get to the door as she watched the doorknob start to twist, a soft knock being heard. Her heart pounding even though the voice suddenly calling out to them could be a hell of a lot worse.

“Hey guys, dinner’s here,” Kori’s perky voice rang as she pushed the door open, peaking her head in like a mom would. “Oh.”

Kori paused, looking from Halley to Jason. Jason had been the first one she saw, catching him lying in the girl’s bed with tussled hair and shirtless, the sheets covering his lower half. She quickly averted her eyes, seeing how he rushed to cover his, erm-uh, area, with his hands. She blinked looking up to Halley, seeing how frazzled she looked as well. She was standing in the middle of the room, between the door and the bed. She looked back at Jason and then back to the girl, already knowing what she walked in on.

“Oh,” she repeated, this time more coyly, enjoying their blank stares. What was the earth phrase? Like deer’s in headlights? She smirked, giving Halley a teasing look before pointing between the pair of them as she slowly began to close the door. “Well don’t just stay there; get dressed. Like I said Dick and Wally are back with pizza.”

Once the door was closed both teens didn’t make a move to do anything, mortified about what just happened. She had said it, she had said that it was too risky to too anything in the Tower, but did she listen to herself? Of course not, she caved and now they were surely going to face the wrath of Dick because there was no way Kori would keep this a secret.

“Why didn’t she fuckin’ wait a second after knocking?” Jason shouted under his breath, being the first to speak. He flared his hands about, confused at how Kori didn’t grasp the concept. “You knock, then you wait until you’re told it’s good to come in.”

“Because for whatever reason, she’d been on earth for almost a decade now but still doesn’t understand the earthly concept of knocking,” Halley found herself saying, rushing over to her mirror to straighten up her appearance.

She remembered when she lived here Kori was always barging into her room, always forgetting to knock. Back then she had nothing to hid but still felt that it was annoying and was glad when Dick talked to the alien about. He at least got her to agree on knocking before entering Halley’s room, so now she’d at least have some sort of notice.

“Dick’s going to fuc-,”

“Shush,” Halley quickly shushed him, not ready to come to terms with reality. “Kori likes me. She likes you. She wouldn’t purposely do anything to get us murdered.” She said, her voice sounding very trying.

And for the most part, Halley had been right. Kori hadn’t purposely gone out of her way to make what she saw known but the Tamaranean also couldn’t help herself. The side looks she kept shooting the pair as they sat together during the team’s movie pizza night was enough to raise a few eyebrows; everyone knew when Kori knew something that they didn’t. It was also the fact that she had went out of her way to sit next to them, the area already crowded but Kori had pushed her way next to Halley which in turn made the younger girl push herself closer to Jason, thighs brushing against the other’s. Their blushes and Kori’s smirk not going unnoticed by Dick.

It hadn’t stopped there either. The next morning during breakfast she’d questioned Jason how Halley slept, seeing that the girl was normally an early riser but hadn’t still not joined them for breakfast yet. Jason tried playing it cool, asking how he would know and doing everything in his power to avoid Dick’s harsh glare.

The incidents weren’t even just with the two of them, after one particular trip to the grocery store, Dick questioned as he saw Kori drop a second box of condoms into their cart. She smiled playfully before shrugging him off with a wave of her hand, “If you don’t know by now than you truly are clueless, Dick Grayson.”

The final straw been pulled a few days later while Dick had Halley with him running drills in the training room. Dick huffed as he blocked another hit by her feeling the sweat forming on his brow. He sidestepped her, sliding out his foot and tripped her. As she fell forward he reached out, grabbing her by the collar of her hoodie and jerked her backwards towards him.

“What the hell is this?” He nearly choked, pulling her closer to him but not loosening his hold on her hood; if anything he pulled it tighter, showing off the skin on the side of her neck better.

“What’s what?” She blew, not appreciating being choked still.

“This! What is this?” Dick repeated but more forcefully.

Halley craned her head up to look at him, unclear on what he was talking about. Dick’s glare intensified, jabbing his finger into her skin. It took another second until it clicked, feeling herself pale as it did. She remembered cursing at Jason the other night for biting her neck a little too hard. She normally would remember to check in the morning and apply make-up but she had totally forgotten, rushing to get to the training room. She cursed herself again, knowing that Dick damn for well sure knew what a hickey looked like and couldn’t deny it and claim it to be something else.

“I can explain,” Halley gapped, rushing to cover the mark with the palm of her hand.

“Oh yeah? I’d love to hear this?” Dick cut her off, not giving her the chance to talk once he started. He was right; his hunch about them was right all this time. And worst of all they’d been hiding it from him; she’d been hiding it from him. “What the hell have you been doing? Why would you let Jason do this to you! You’re only sixteen! I knew you were sneaking around with him! Does Bruce know about this! Really, Jason? Jason of all-,”

“Dick!” She shouted, pulling herself free and pushed him back from her.

“No! I can’t believe you! I knew I shouldn’t have left you in Gotham again!” Dick shouted right back. “I can’t trust you; you’re still keeping secrets from me!”

“You know what?” Halley narrowed her eyes dangerously at him. “I don’t owe you an explanation if this is how you’re going to act!” She pointed an accusing finger at him as she took a step back, planning to leave the room.

As she turned her back to him, Dick reached out, grabbing her shoulder, once again. His hold on her was a little too tight for her comfort but Dick was hell-bent on not dropping this conversation this time. When she was jerked back again she flared her nostrils like a caged animal. Feeling a nerve snap in an instant she had Dick flipped over her shoulder and back on the ground in front of her. She gritted her teeth down at him, only to let her jaw drop seconds after.

Dick kick Halley’s feet out from underneath her, twisting his body up and moving to pin her down. He grunted as she fought against him, trying to tug her arms out from his grip, letting out a few grunts of her own. She was angry; she was flashing back to her training sessions with her father, remembering how hard it was to beat him once he had her down into a death hold.

Letting out a scream of frustration, she knew she was better than when she was a little girl and that Dick wasn’t her father. She stretched her legs up, snaking them around his torso and heaved him to the side. Now flipping them so she was now pinning him down. She huffed when he fought back. He was close to flipping them back, using his heavier weight against her but failed when she quickly grabbed at his hair, almost desperately.

“Stop acting like a child; we need to have an actual conversation.” He winced as she tugged, but didn’t relent. He was clearly out of breath, as she continued to push against him. Grabbing her wrist and tried pulling her hands off of him, he heaved, “You can’t keep pushing me away.”

“Stop acting like my father; you’re not my father, Dick.” She gritted right back, not loosening her hold, instead tightening it and flinging her legs up as they lay on the floor locked together on their sides.

She wrapped her legs around his neck, choking him and pushing him back onto his back. She didn’t let up even as Dick seemed to freeze at her words. She didn’t know how long they stood like that but she felt her chest heaving as she stared down at his blank expression. She didn’t snap out of it until Dick tapped on her thigh, timing himself out. She caught her breathe, snapping out of whatever trance she had found herself in and quickly got off of him.

She pushed herself away from him, embarrassed for reacting the way she did. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she rested her chin on them, sitting with her back turned from him. She could hear him sit up, breathing just as heavy as she was.

“I know I’m not your father. I just-,” Dick said trying to find his voice as he rubbed his throat.

“Then stop acting like it.” She spat, barely turning her head to look at him before jerking back away.

“Halley, I just-,”

“Care?” She questioned, quirking her head to the side, as if in disbelief. “I thought you did and I know deep down you do but lately it doesn’t feel like it. Ever since I moved to Gotham, we always just end up fighting. And I don’t get it; this was your idea! I’m just doing what you wanted me to do and I trusted you but it’s still not good enough; it’s just like with my father.

“I didn’t have to be a Wayne.” Halley kept on going, finally feeling herself explode with all the pent up feelings she hadn’t fully realized she had pent up. “I could’ve been a Grayson; you could’ve adopted me instead of Bruce. But that’s not what you wanted and I get it; I totally do but this was your idea and you’re mad that I made myself a life in Gotham and that I actually really like Jason. You’re taking whatever you have against him out on me and I just don’t know how else to please you.”

Dick felt himself unable to find any words to say. He wasn’t good at this kind of confrontation or at least any form of confrontation directed towards him. He was wondering if this was how Bruce felt when he gave his old mentor an ear full before quitting and joining the Titan’s fulltime. If this was how it felt, part of him felt like calling him up and apologizing because this felt like shit.

“Why do you hate him so much?” Halley simply asked finding her voice stronger than his.

“I don’t hate him.” He said, finding it easier to address than her little speech against him.

“It sure seems like you do.” She shook her head, still refusing to look at him.

“Well I don’t.” Dick said firmly, sitting up straight. He pulled one leg up, bending it at the knee so he could rest an arm against it. Running his other hand through his hair, rubbing gentle where it still slightly stung from her pulling it, he let out a pained sigh. “I just- you don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me because he’s done nothing wrong towards you that warrants how you treat him.” Halley said, sounding ready to fight again. She jerked her body around, sitting to face him. “I don’t understand it. You gave up being Robin; why are you so mad that he’s Robin now?”

“Yes, I gave up being Robin!” Now it was his turn to sound like he was ready to fight. Pressing forward he explained it to her, just like she had asked. “I had to give up being Robin because I was always working for Batman, not with Batman. He didn’t see me as his equal; he didn’t see me unless it fit him. It was great at first but it got lonely real quick. He made it known that he only cared about the mission.”

“Then why did you trust me with him?” She felt herself softening, seeing how dark his facial features turned. “If he was that bad?”

“Because he has a thing for helping kids who need it.” Dick looked down at his hands before gripping them into fists. “He was many things but he did help me. He helped me move on from my parent’s death. He helped me bring their murderer to justice. I have no clue what I’m doing with you, clearly. I just thought he’d do a better job than I could.

“And I think he has. I’m proud of you,” Dick said, feeling his eyes somewhat water but bit them back. Looking up at the girl sitting on the side of him and went on, finally getting to say everything he wanted to say, “You’re doing really good work as Nightshade and you’re off in school, doing really well from what Alfred tells me. You’re coming out of your shell, doing the school paper, making friends and now you have a boyfriend-,

Dick almost wanted to laugh when he saw a blush reach her cheeks. Shaking his head and reaching out a gentle hand to rest on Halley’s shoulder. He let a quick smile grace his lips for a second when she didn’t pull or push him away.

“Look, I know I’m not your father and I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to act like one. I’m whatever you need me to be. I just care for you a lot and want what’s best for you, okay?”

Halley looked down from his gaze, feeling a lump in her throat. She moved forward, pulling herself towards him. She buried face into his chest, snugly wrapping her arms around his torso. No one had had said they were proud of her before or at least seriously. She remembered the time when Slade told her he was proud of her. He was joking of course, having said it after she had finally made her first sniper shot but only after failing a few missions in a row due to nerves. Dick actually meant it though, she knew he did. She could tell from the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes. He was actually proud of her; he truly cared.

Dick smiled, lagging in his movements as it took a moment to process that she was hugging him. Knowing how rare hugs from Halley were, he let himself revel in it. He folded his own arms around her, nestling his head on top of hers. He missed being close with her like he had been before, feeling a connection with her he never felt with anyone else before. Dick let the moment soak in, hoping that this was the moment that they needed to go back to being partners in crime again.

It hadn’t been until long after the moment was over and the two had separated had Dick decided he was going to go one step further. He found himself on the roof, having to use the Tower’s security systems to find them but he had eventually found both Jason and Halley hiding out on the roof. He was quiet as he approached, watching as they sat on the edge, laughing about something or other.

He cleared his throat, gaining their attention and giving them an awkward nod. He saw Halley give him a confused look, unsure why he was there, whereas Jason looked miffed by his presence already. Dick moved forward, hands in his pockets as he did.

“Mind if I have a moment alone with Jason?” He asked Halley.

She gave him a slight look of concern with Dick responding with a chuckle. He gave her a sincere look, silently promising that he wasn’t here to fight. Halley had a somewhat hopefully look on her face now, wondering if their talk earlier was actually going to work. She had spent the rest of the morning wanting it to but also hadn’t wanted to get her hopes to high up. She got up giving Jason an apologetic look as he shot her a look of betrayal.

“What did I do now?” Jason complained standing up and turning away from Dick once Halley was back in the Tower. Why did she have leave him alone with him, Jason thought.

“You’re in love with her?” Dick said, sounding in the middle of a question and a statement. He completely ignored Jason’s question, moving to join him.

“Excuse me?” Jason asked looking peeved; Halley hadn’t mentioned her and Dick’s conversation earlier and he had been completely thrown off by Dick light attitude he was carrying.

“Halley. Are you in love with her?” Dick reiterated, swinging his leg off the edge to sit. He looked up at Jason, it being clear how the boy was already trying to either come up with some sort insult to shoot his way or some way to change the subject. Dick chuckled, looking out to the skyline of Jump City. “Its fine, I’m okay with it.”

“You’re okay with it? Excuse me?” Jason looked at him in disbelief.

“Yeah, I’m okay with it.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m hearing you correctly-,”

“Jason, you’re hearing me just fine, look-,”

“Wow, who are you and what have you done to the real Dick Grayson?” Jason mocked a gasp, ending the chain of interrupting each other end and letting how bitter he was towards the former Robin be laced in his tone. “What do you want? Me to break up with her or something? Cause that’s totally cliché and not happening.”

“I said I was fine with it.” Dick said, trying bit back his impatience “That’s not what I want at all.” Dick tried to reassure him but knew that the problems between them wouldn’t be fixed that quickly. He’d still try though. “I actually wanted to thank you.”

“You wanted to thank me?” Jason said still clearly cautious, waiting for some sort of set up.

“Yeah and apologize.”

“Okay, no seriously? Who are you?”

“I’m being serious, Jason.” Dick let out a deep chuckle. “Look I’m sorry I’ve been a jackass to you. We got off on the wrong foot and that was my fault, so this is me wanting to give us a clean slate.”

Dick outstretched his hand, offering it for Jason to shake as a form of truce. He watched as the younger boy just stared at it for a few seconds, making Dick feel as if he would just slap it out of the way. He wouldn’t put it past Jason to do such a thing, he didn’t really deserve Jason accepting his apology but he wanted to try, not just for Halley but for Jason himself.

“This is weird,” Jason said, making a face but warily shook Dick’s hand.

“Only if you make it weird,” Dick tried to joke, earning a scowl from Jason. At least it wasn’t a glare, Dick thought. It was progress and progress was good for now.

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theendofthematerialgworl · 4 years ago

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Demon Actors and Unsolved Mysteries (Part 1)

Title: Demon Actors and Unsolved Mysteries (Part 1)

Summary: You, a demon duke of hell, were to be joining Ryan Bergara and Shane Madej on their episode about Annabelle the doll, as a promotion for your movie. What you hadn’t expected was to meet another demon.

Warnings: Some swearing, mentions of toxic mothers and cults

Word Count: 3,424

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When you had gotten to the Buzzfeed building that Shane Madej and Ryan Bergara worked at shot Buzzfeed Unsolved at, you hadn’t expected to feel the pure demonic energy emanating from the building.

“Do you think it’s haunted?” You asked your driver, who had long since figured out that you were, in fact, a demon. To be fair, she had also been there when you had become a demon, after essentially taking a demon property on a dare and becoming a Duke of Hell. “Could be, but I think Ryan would say that he wasn’t going to work there if it was.” “Fair enough…Maybe Shane’s fans were right and he really is a demon.” “I wouldn’t be surprised.” Your driver sent you a teasing look, and you rolled your eyes. “Oh, hush.” You walked into the building, checked in, and made your way to the shooting location. You met Ryan first. “Hi.” You said, smiling as you shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” “It’s nice to meet you, too.” Ryan described the episode to you, and how you would be shooting where you were at now, then would meet at the on-site location to use the spirit box and whatnot. Just then, Shane appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. “Hi!” You greeted him, turning around to greet him. “It’s nice to meet-” You paused for a moment. One look at Shane Alexander Madej and you knew that he was, in fact, a demon. Just like you. “you.” You finished, holding out your hand for him to shake. “Likewise.” He said, shaking your hand. Your eyes met, and a moment of solidarity seemed to occur. You wouldn’t expose him, and he wouldn’t expose you. There was, quite simply, nothing to worry about, on your part or his. A few minutes later, filming began. “This week, on a special episode of Buzzfeed Unsolved Supernatural, we investigate Annabelle the doll as part of our ongoing investigation into the question: Are ghosts real?” Shane shook his head, and you made a so-so motion with your hands. “There is it, the head nod is back, everybody! He’s dusted it off, he had it-” “I audibly uttered ‘no’ this time.” “Anyways, we are going to be going to the real-life home of the Warrens, and we are going to be paying Annabelle a visit in real life. And, today, as you can see, we are joined by (Y/N) (Y/L/N), who stars in Annabelle Returns.” “Hello!” You greeted, smiling and waving. Oh, the irony. Thank Satan most of my duties are topside. “Before we start, what is your stance on ghosts and demons?” “I think that ghosts and demons exist-” Shane blew a raspberry, and you rolled your eyes. “but most of the hauntings are bullshit. Also, if I were to get proof, I would want it to be a demon or ghost flinging me like a rag doll so that I hit the ceiling and break all of my bones.” “Oh, okay.” Shane said. “So, you’re a shitfish.” “Dude!” Ryan said. “Ignore him, he’s an asshole.” Oh, it is on, Madej. “Yes. Though I must ask, for clarification, do you believe in demons? Not even ghosts, but just demons?” “No, I don’t.” “Interesting.” You said. “I mean, you know, I don’t necessarily believe this is a haunted doll-” “It’s a demon.” You and Ryan said in unison. “That’s fine,” Shane said flippantly. “It’s killed people.” Ryan told him. “Is that-wait, really? Like, with a knife?” “I hope not.” “No, not with a knife!” You said. “How is a doll supposed to do that? Just, like, take a knife from the kitchen and do the ol’ stabby stabby?” “You know, it’s in a case, right?” “Yeah, it’s in a case for people’s safety and protection.” “Are we allowed to like, tap on it?” “I’m sure, yeah, you could probably tap on it.” “Make little faces at it.” “Yeah, sure. What are you gonna do?” “Who knows what I’m gonna do in this place?” “I wouldn’t advise doing anything.” You said. “Yeah, well, you think demons are real-” “Of course, I think demons are real, why don’t you?” “Because it’s bullshit!” “Science can’t explain everything!” “Yes, it can, fuck you!” “You know what, Shane, you do what you wanna do.” “My goal, I wanna say, is for us to have a car crash-” “That seems dangerous-” “-on the way home.” “Jesus Christ!” Ryan said as your eyebrows went up so high they nearly passed your hairline. “I’m bucklin’, you better buckle up, ‘cause we’re done for.” “Oh, my God.” Ryan groaned. “Please don’t kill me, I have things to do in life.” You said. “We’re goin’ into a ravine, baby.” “Alright, let’s just, let’s get this over with, let’s get into it.” “Let’s, before Shane makes any more stupid comments.” “Hey!” “In 1952, Ed and Lorraine Warren established the New England Society for Psychic Research, or NESPR, to investigate reported hauntings. While Ed and Lorraine have since passed away, NESPR is led today by their son-in-law, Tony Spera. Over the decades, NESPR has looked into many paranormal events that would later become famous movies, including the Perron family haunting from The Conjuring, The Haunting In Connecticut, and perhaps most famously, The Horrors of Amityville. None of these events, however, have captured imaginations quite like Annabelle. “According to NESPR, Annabelle’s story begins in 1970, when a 28-year-old nursing student named Donna received a Raggedy Anne doll from her mother as a birthday present.” I-Hang on, what? nice mom For her 28-year-old daughter normal-normal mom gift Yes, Shane, such a normal mom gift. “Oh, you’re 28? How ‘bout a diaper?” (laughter) yeah, I haven’t really gotten any Ninja Turtle action figures from my parents, uh, since I was 10 Maybe it was a nostalgic thing-you know “you’re 28 now, here’s a doll. remember-remember when you used to like them?” What the fuck, Shane? I-I don’t think- I don’t know “She gets it she’s like ‘you know I pay rent, right?’” Ryan joked. “Cool, mom.” Shane said. “Yeah, I live on my own.” “Thanks, coulda used a blender.” Ryan laughed. “Maybe some socks.” “A) Only a fool would give you a blender, Shane.” You began. “And B) I think if my mother, that toxic bitch, had ever given me a Raggedy Anne doll, I would send her a video of me burning it, because those thing creep me the fuck out, so whatever the girl did is absolutely fair play.” “I am offended that you would ever think that.” Shane said. “What would I do with a blender that would be so unforgivable?” “Shane, I once saw a video of you drinking a sandwich.” “Wait, what-?” Ryan started. “We have a few mutual friends, yet have never met before now.” The rest of the story went on. “Donna would keep the doll on her bed in the apartment she shared with her roommate, Angie. Shortly after receiving the doll, Donna and Angie began to notice it in positions they hadn’t left it in. Sometimes, even finding it in a new room. On a few occasions, Donna has said to have left the doll on the couch only to later come home and find it on her bed behind the closed bedroom door.” hypothesis one: Angie is a little trickster. What about that? because-let me tell you something-if I got a roommate who has a doll at age 28, I might…not like them “I might say ‘Hey, maybe we get rid of the creepy doll?” “Counterpoint,” Ryan said, “if you have a roommate who is 28 years old and they’re into dolls, maybe you don’t mess with that doll.” “Maybe I do, counterpoint, counter counterpoint.” “No, I’m gonna counter, counter, counter your point.” At this point, this was worse than one of Hell’s obligatory meetings. “That person is probably weirdly attached to that doll, probably not the best call to touch it.” “No, but the best way to then get rid of that doll that they are very attached to, is to make it seem like it’s haunted. ‘Oh, we better throw this doll out, it’s got ghosts in it.’” “Okay, first of all, the correct term would be possessed, Shane, you should know this by now, and secondly, counter, counter, counter, counter, counterpoint: The roommate probably would have known that Donna got the doll from her mother as a gift and probably isn’t that attached to it, and you bring up that if it is possessed, the best thing to do is to soak it in holy water and then burn it.” “No, you do not do that!” Shane and Ryan protested. “I mean, everyone knows that I won’t go within seven feet of holy water, churches, the like. Too many bad memories, because, ya know, my mother the cult leader. So I would probably be the one doing the burning, and not the one touching the holy water.” Ryan opted to continue. “Their friend Lou had a bad feeling about the doll and told Donna to get rid of it.” Good! “Donna didn’t listen, not even after finding pieces of parchment paper, which they did not keep in their home, with messages such as ‘help us’ and ‘help Lou’ scribbled on them in a child’s handwriting.” Jesus Christ “One day, after noticing drops of what appeared to be blood on the doll’s chest and hands, Donna and Angie decided to contact a medium. The Medium conducted a seance, which revealed the spirit of a seven-year-old girl named Annabelle Higgins living in the doll. “Stories differ, but some say that her body was found in the field where Donna and Angie’s apartment was later constructed. The medium said Donna and Angie made Annabelle feel loved, and that the spirit wanted to stay. Donna felt bad for the girl, and gave permission for the spirit to live inside the doll.” “Would you still burn it now?” Shane asked you. You paused for a moment, considering. “It depends on whether or not the doll started to hurt people.” “Fair.” Ryan said. “Thank you!” You exclaimed. “What if I go there,” Shane said suddenly, “and I give Annabelle permission to live inside me?” “Awful idea!” “You’ve given spirits permission to rip your spine out!” “Also an awful idea!” “I’m gonna see if I can trap Annabelle in my soul.” “I don’t think that’s a place anybody wants to be.” “Certainly not a place I’d want to be.” You agreed. “I feel bad for Annabelle.” “That’s why I’m gonna trap her there.” Shane said. “Oh, boy.” You muttered. “This…This does not seem good.” “In a Shane Prison.” Ryan said. “In the Shane Prison.” Shane agreed. “In the Shane Prison.” You said, in a resigned tone of voice. The story continued. “Lou, however, was not as accepting of the spirit’s good intentions. One night, Lou awoke from a bad dream to a sensation of paralysis. He looked down at his legs, and saw Annabelle, who began to crawl up his body to his chest, where the doll started to strangle him. Lou eventually passed out. In the morning, he was convinced the encounter had not been a dream.” People have one sleep paralysis dream and they think it’s a demon, I swear. You thought. I do think it’s a little hard to kinda wrap my head around how plush hands could-like there’s no articulation in her- it’s a Raggedy Anne doll it’s like a little paw. So how did she (wheeze) I mean- she’s just giving him a hug really “If you squeeze like really hard, like take your arms like this-” “Where, how is it squeezing?” You mimicked Ryan’s motions, grinning at Shane. “If she figured out how to make her hands harder, it could work.” You said. “Just do it, Shane.” “Yeah, take your hands and then squeeze your neck.” “I’m not gonna do that.” “Do it!” You and Ryan insisted in unison. “No!” “Do it-I’ll do it.” “No!” “Yes!” You exclaimed. “Just do it for the science of it.” That seemed to get Shane to do it. He stuck his hands near his neck vaguely, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else. “Now imagine you have little plush hands. Now take them and just kind of squeeze.” “Like this.” You demonstrated, sticking your fingers together and grinning as you squeezed your neck lightly. “Yeah, it kinda hurts a little bit.” Ryan said. “If she did it for long enough then she could probably strangle him for real.” You agreed. “No.” Shane said. “I mean, it’s a doll full of fluff.” Shane put his hands down, as did you and Ryan. “Hey, I love you.” He said in a weird voice.8 You and Ryan were cracking up. “Okay, I just-” Shane interrupted him with a scream. “What is this show?” You exclaimed. “Hell.” Ryan joked. “I mean, I disagree, but okay-” Back to the actual story. “The day after Annabelle allegedly tried to strangle Lou, he and Angie were preparing for a road trip when they heard a loud wrestling noise in Donna’s room. When he went to investigate, Lou found no evidence of anyone being in the room, thought Annabelle appeared to have been tossed on the floor. “As he approached the doll, Lou suddenly doubled over in pain, clutching his chest through his now blood-soaked shirt. He opened his shirt to reveal claw scratches in the Mark of the Beast. It’s said Lou’s chest healed almost immediately and that all signed of the claw marks had disappeared within two days.” it’s death by doll! if-if we’re going your original- “oh, oh, it was crazy. you shoulda seen-I mean it’s… it’s gone now, but it was nuts!” well they said that the blood came through the shirt in the moment how does that even happen? “But I don’t understand why the demon would heal it quickly too, like Doctor Queen Medicine Woman. Like why is the demon just doubling back right away and being like ‘yes, I’m making you bleed, now I’ll put a little triple antibiotic on it.’” “Neosporin’s quick.” Ryan said. “Not that quick.” “Fast acting.” You waved a finger in the air, pointing it an Ryan. “No, that’s not-” “When I fell into that pile of bricks of when I was younger, put some Neosporin on the back of my head, didn’t even need stitches.” “That sounds awful, number one.” You said. “Number two…What the fuck?” “You didn’t get that checked out?” Shane asked. “No, it healed naturally.” “Okay…” You muttered to yourself. “Okay.” Shane said. “Again, things falling into place here.” “No kidding.” “The thing is, it’s a doll that’s walking around by itself. It’s possessed by something, I think the laws of physics maybe go out the window when you’re talking about the doll.” “I mean, when I started acting, I decided that the laws of physics are bullshit and nothing matters, so I am totally on board.” “That’s convenient.” Shane said. The story went on. “At this point, Donna decided enough was enough and contacted a priest. Another higher ranking priest then contacted Ed and Lorraine Warren. The Warren’s determined the doll was not actually possessed, as according to NESPR, inanimate objects cannot actually be possessed. Instead, Annabelle was being manipulated by an inhuman demonic spirit, which was using the doll to search for a human host. “According to the Warrens, the demon was only a few weeks from completing its infestation, which could have resulted in the death of Donna, Angie, and/or Lou. Though they didn’t believe the doll was possessed by a girl named Annabelle, the doll continues to be referred to by that original name. The Warrens asked a priest to perform an exorcist blessing on Donna and Angie’s home and Donna asked the Warrens to removes Annabelle from the apartment. Annabelle, however, would not go without a fight. “While driving the doll back to their house, the Warrens claimed the car would swerve on its onward that the brakes would fail. After several near misses, Ed crossed the doll with a vial of holy water, which allowed them to finish their trip. Back at the Warrens’ home, the doll resumed it’s haunting, moving throughout the house on its own and even levitating out of a chair next to Ed’s desk. “While visiting the Warrens, Father Jason Bradford, a Catholic exorcist, reportedly picked up Annabelle from the chair it was sitting in and said, quote, ‘you’re just a rag doll Annabelle, you can’t hurt anyone.’ End quote. Then threw it back down into the chair. Lorraine instructed Father Jason to be extra cautious while driving and to call them when he got home. Three hours later, the Warrens got a call from Father Jason, saying his breaks went out as he entered an intersection and that his car had been totaled.” what were his exact words there? oh, no oh god. You’re not going to, are you? Shane- what were his exact words? apparently he said, “you’re just a rag doll Annabelle-you can’t hurt anyone “Okay, good to know. We’ll commit that to memory.” “I hope you don’t.” Ryan said. “I hope you do, but you’re not getting in the car with Ryan and I, I’m not risking that.” “She’s just a rag doll, guys.” “I’m gonna call you a lift on the way home.” “Absolutely do so.” “She can’t hurt anyone.” “You’re gonna be in a separate car from me, I think.” Shane looked over at you. “Don’t look at me, you’re not going in my car if you say that. No way in hell, Shane.” “It would be crazy if I died. I mean, I know I say that a lot, but it would be cool to go out from one of the big guns.” You and Ryan opted to instead ignore Shane and continue. “This was the not the only car accident allegedly caused by the doll. One visitor to the Warrens collection reportedly banged on the case that houses Annabelle and taunted it, begging the doll to prove it was haunted by scratching him.” You turned to look at Shane. “Are we sure that wasn’t you?” “No, it was not.” He said. “Oh, okay, then. Sure.” Ryan sighed. “After Ed asked the man to leave, the man got on his motorcycle with his girlfriend and rode off. According to Lorraine, the girlfriend later told the Warrens she and the man were laughing about the doll when the man suddenly lost control of the motorcycle, crashing into a tree and killing him.” (muffled) what? yes? (wheeze) I like-I just like the description that they were laughing (wheeze) about the doll what are you doing right now? you’re laughing about the doll no, but I love the idea of them being like Shane laughed, then screamed, miming the motorcycle driver. You and Ryan laughed. “What’s the most disrespectful thing I can do to her?” Shane asked. “I’m not gonna help you workshop our death.” Ryan told him. “Yeah, Shane-” “Didn’t you say that the way you wanted proof was for something to slam you into the ceiling?” “Well, I mean, yeah, but I don’t want to die! Sure, I’d love to be slammed into the ceiling, or have a bone broken, but I don’t want the demons to eat my heart or something!” “Wait.” Shane said suddenly. “What I creep her out and then she’s afraid of me? And then she gets in a car accident.” You laughed. “Yeah, ‘cause she drives home. She’s gonna get back into her Prius.” “She’s like, I don’t like this place anymore, get in her little Malibu Barbie car.” “Yeah, her little doll car.” You snickered. “It’s all pink and it’s got, like horns for the little thing on top, the little decoration. Gets in ‘see ya, motherfuckers! I’m out!’” Shane fake screamed. “Look, I know if she does something crazy, that’s probably the series finale.” “Sure.” Shane said. “It doesn’t have to be, but okay.” “But boy do I want this one to be real just so I can see you get your ass kicked by a Raggedy Anne doll.” “Wouldn’t that be beautiful.” “Yeah, same, me too. But it’s not gonna happen.” “And I promise you that I will not help you, I will laugh.” “I’ll help you.” You told Shane.  “Aw, thank you.” “…Maybe. Maybe I’ll help you.” “Great.” “Actually, I’ll probably run away.” Ryan said. “Yeah, agreed.” “Yeah, it’ll be very funny.” “I disagree with that, but alright, Shane. You do you, my dude.”

#Shane Madej #ryan bergara #buzzfeed #buzzfeed unsolved #supernatural #true crime #buzzfeed supernatural #reader insert #buzzfeed true crime #buzzfeed unsolved supernatural #buzzfeed unsolved true crime #bfu #bfu supernatural #bfu true crime

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luckyjak · 6 years ago

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fic: i never leave well enough alone [shadowgast]

Caleb and Essik, making out for science. The Mighty Nein are also there to walk in on them and embarrass them. A kissing fic, with some found family fluff thrown in to break the tension that could otherwise be carved up with a knife.

[AO3 Link]

a/n: I haven't even seen the episode yet (I'll see the VOD Monday) but I know a good ship when I see one.

They are studying, and they are talking, and Caleb has been distracted by the gold of Essik’s eyes for a while now.

Normally, dunamancy is a fascinating subject for Caleb, but he finds his attention wandering this afternoon in ways it hasn’t in over a decade. Not since he was a boy, noticing his classmate Astrid and the way her robes filled out in different ways than his.

Today, he’s distracted by a lot of things--the overbearing warmth in the room, to combat the stark cold of the Xhorasian winter outside. The way Essik must be warm, too--there is a gentle bead of sweat falling down the back of his neck, into his high collar. Caleb imagines following that bead of sweat for a moment. Essik has a lovely neck, long and slender, and Caleb can imagine himself kissing it, pressing hot lovebites into the drow’s dark skin. What do drow even look like, bruised? Would anyone even notice if Caleb left a trail of hickeys on his dark purple skin, or would it just be their little secret?

It’s not just his neck, either. It’s his mouth, too: his lips are full, and they look soft to the touch, and they move subtly, spellwork precise in the way it comes out (“ pro” “hibere” “tempus”), the verbal components soothing to Caleb’s ears. Somatic, too, in the way Essik moves his hands, tracing arcane patterns into the air. He has beautiful hands. Caleb thinks about his hands, and wonders where else his long and slender fingers may fit on Caleb’s body.

And his eyes, too--gold, like the center of a hot fire, and Caleb has always been attracted to a flame. They are small but vivid, in color and in shape, and they are staring at him now, intently.

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?” The drow accuses, but his tone is gentle, teasing, coaxing Caleb out of his fantasy and back to reality.

Caleb rolls his eyes, and with the practiced ease of a student who has never once had to study, casts the spell he was only half paying attention to flawlessly.

His reward is a smile and a pointed look of pride on Essik’s face. “You are brilliant, you know? You’ve progressed further in mere weeks than what many have done in lifetimes. You are simply amazing .”

Essik runs his hand down Caleb’s shoulder and squeezes, and it’s too much for Caleb; the heat and the intensity of Essik’s gaze, the skin contact, the way their knees brush against one another underneath the table. He leans in swiftly and kisses Essik fully on the mouth before he can think better of it.

It’s a risk, but a calculated one, and he’s always been a fan of the potential rewards.

Essik’s lips are soft, softer than Caleb expected, and while the Shadowhand doesn’t pull away he doesn’t kiss back, either, and so Caleb moves away sooner than he wants. His gut wants to keep kissing, to grab and to hold the other man and kiss him until they are both breathless, but he stops himself.

Not yet. Not without permission.

“ Oh ,” Essik says, quiet at first, barely audible. “That was-- unexpected.”

“I apologize,” Caleb says, sitting back down in his seat, though his eyes still stare at Essik’s lips.

“No, don’t. It was not unpleasant,” Essik’s hand traces his own lips carefully, cautiously, curiously. “Merely unexpected. I have never, ah, kissed , like that,” He says the word kissed with uncertainty, like he has to think carefully about what the word means in common.

Caleb raises an eyebrow. “Ever?”

“Not with one like you, no,”

“Human?” Caleb offers, scooting his chair closer to Essik’s, so that one of his knees is in between his partner’s. The dark elf doesn’t respond. “Male?” he ventures another guess.

“One of those is correct. I’ll let you guess which one,” the Shadowhand whispers, playfully, a coy smile on his face. He moves his hand to Caleb’s face, caressing the soft patch of hair that’s begun to grow there in the weeks since he’s shaved last. “I would--I would like to try again, if you aren’t opposed.”

Caleb doesn’t respond; instead, he kisses him again, and is thrilled when the elven man kisses back.

This time, Essik is more present in the kiss, less shocked and more daring. He keeps one hand on Caleb’s face, caressing his cheek while the other wraps around the broad expanse of Caleb’s back across his shoulders. Caleb’s hands, for his part, find themselves drawn to Essik’s waist, his fingers catching in the loops of his belt.

They part only long enough to catch their breath before Essik stands, kicking his chair over in the process, and drapes himself instead into Caleb’s lap.

It’s too much; Essik kisses like a storm, like lightning in a bottle, precise, stunning, fast, and all of Caleb’s senses are on fire from the sensation. His vision is dark and blurred, only catching glimpses of white hair against dark skin as Essik nibbles his way down his chin.

Yasha doesn’t remember what she came into the library for, but it certainly wasn’t to catch Caleb in this compromising position.

...It is Caleb under there, although it takes Yasha starring longer than she intends to to discover that. It’s not her fault: Caleb is somewhat buried, his lap full of an attractive drow man straddling him in the chair.

There’s a chair knocked to the floor, and neither man is wearing their jacket. Caleb’s shirt--from what Yasha can tell, where she’s standing--is half unbuttoned, and his hair is a mess, stark red tangled from dark fingers.

They are just kissing, she reckons, but Essik is kissing Caleb like he wants to eat him, tongue first, and Caleb’s hands are firmly attached to Essik’s backside.

“...I’ll come back later,” Yasha tells the room in a whisper, her voice unheard, as she closes the door quietly behind her.

“Did you know Caleb’s kissing the Shadowhand now?” Yasha announces casually to where most of the Mighty Nein are gathered in the kitchen. "They're making out in the library."

“WHAT?” Jester squeals with delight, clawed hands covering her mouth in joy.

“WHAT?” Beau hollers, outraged, fist slammed on the table.

Fjord doesn’t react beyond trying not to choke to death on his salad, his face a new and unusual shade of green.

“Good for them,” Caduceus nods sagely, stirring his teapot without much concern. “Tea?”

“Yes please,” she nods to Caduceus, taking a seat between him and Jester. “I just walked in on them in the library. They seem quite attached to each other.”

Jester’s squealing gets louder (“oh my gosh oh my gosh ohmygoshhhh!!!”) and Beau seems even more outraged.

“The fucking library?” Beau howls, loud enough for the whole house to hear. It’s a good thing Nott and Yeza are out shopping, and that the rest of them were in the kitchen, minus the two in the library. “ I use that fucking library. That’s public property. I swear to god if they get sweaty boy shit all over those fucking books I’ll murder them both, those fuckers-- ”

And then Jester is up out of her seat and down the hall, and Beau is following fast behind her, and Fjord seems like he wants to crawl into his shirt and hide like a turtle as he pushes his bowl of food aside.

“Was I not supposed to say anything?” Yasha asks, more to herself than to anyone in the room, but Caduceus answers her with a cup of tea nonetheless.

“Nah, it’ll be fine. This is what families do, in my experience. At least that’s how I reacted every time one of my sisters brought a partner over.” He picks up his own cup and sips it. “Never really saw the appeal, myself, but different strokes for different folks.”

“Ah,” Yasha nods at his wisdom. Behind her, a door slams and there is a lot of yelling and screeching and a crash of what sounds like two bodies roughly hitting the floor. “Should I stop them?”

“In a minute,” Caduceus says with the sophisticated ease of someone who used to living in chaos. “Let them have their fun, first. Then we’ll go save poor Mr. Caleb from dying of embarrassment.”

“Or setting off a fireball in the house.”

“That too.”

Unlike Yasha’s quiet opening of the door, Jester slams the door to the library open with enough strength that they might should be concerned about the hinges.

“Caaayyyyleeeb,” she coos , her voice getting high pitched towards the end. Her voice and the door startle Caleb and Essik enough that they lose their balance in the chair, and Caleb lands flat on his back on the hard stone floor, with Essik on top of him.

“Oh my gosh, Yasha was right! You two were kissing,” she makes an exaggerated smooching sound, and Caleb can feel Essik stiffen on top of him, uneasy with the situation. For all that Caleb is certain that Essik likes him (as a friend, if not more, now), he always thinks that the elf has no idea what to do with the rest of Caleb’s friends, uncertain what to make of them. “How cuuuteee.”

Beau comes slamming in after Jester, and gods, they are going to have to replace that door. “Do not fuck in public spaces,” Beau yells, and, oh, it seems drow can blush, based on what little of Essik’s face Caleb can see buried on his shoulder. “New house rule, effective immediately, should have been mentioned earlier but we didn’t think about it. No fucking in any place where I routinely eat, sleep, read, practice, or bathe, or I’ll cut your fucking dick off and nail it to the wall.”

Caleb can feel his own face flush at that. “Get. Out.”

Jester scrunches her face at Beau. “But if they can’t fuck any place we sleep, then where are they supposed to have sex? Outside?”

“Get out.”

Beau shakes her head. “No sex outside either. I don’t want anyone to ruin the garden with that. They can fuck in Caleb’s roo-----oom, shit!”

He flings a firebolt at Beau’s head and misses, his aim made unsteady by the body on top of his.

That causes more squawking, this time about “fire safety!” and “don’t burn this house down too Caleb!”, and he feels Essik start to laugh quietly against him.

Luckily, his heroes arrive before he dies of embarrassment. “Okay,” he can hear Caduceus's calming voice come from that side of the room. “You’ve had your fun. It’s time to stop embarrassing Caleb now.”

He hears Beau shriek in protest, and then Caduceus must pick her up somehow, because she starts screaming about being carried off until Caleb can’t hear her voice anymore. He still hears Jester’s giggling though, and heavy footfalls until she, too, starts complaining about how Yasha is ruining all of her fun.

He hears the door shut tightly, and thanks whatever gods are out there that they are alone now.

He feels Essik roll over on top of him, and groans a little, his back bruised from their fall. “We broke your chair,” Essik says, sitting up off of Caleb properly and onto the stone floor. He looks--undignified, and young, but still terribly handsome, as Caleb takes a moment to stare. His stark white hair is in disarray, and his tunic is off-center, and his gold jewelry tangled. It’s the most like a mess Caleb has ever seen him, and he must confess, it’s a good look on him. It makes Caleb wonder, briefly, about other times when Essik might become disheveled, and how Caleb might help him get there.

Sure enough, there is a broken splintered wooden chair nearby. He offers Caleb a hand to help sit up, and Caleb finds he’s reluctant to let go now that he’s sitting up straight. He leans his back up against the leg of the table, and offers Essik what he hopes is a charming grin.

“We can fix it. Jester knows mending,” he breathes in deep, and takes a moment to recollect himself briefly. “That was fun though, yeah?”

He get a soft smirk in return. “I can think of less enjoyable ways to spend an afternoon.” Then Essik bites his lip, his eyes glancing up and down Caleb’s form. “I can think of more enjoyable ways, too, though.”

Caleb feels his face flush, and he wants to ask like what, coy and flirtatious, and he wants to lean over and kiss him again, on the floor under the table, for hours at a time. He wants to peel off Essik’s tunic and see what he looks like underneath his many layers of clothes, to see if his skin is that dark purple color throughout.

He probably shouldn’t, though. Not today. Caduceus and Yasha can only distract the others for so long, and besides, Nott will be back soon, and that’s a whole different interrogation to get through.

So instead he grins, charming and boyish, and says, “Like, four hours of uninterrupted time in a library with a good book?”

That gets him a hearty chuckle, and gosh, the Shadowhand is pretty when he laughs. Caleb’s face should not be this flushed; he is not some inexperienced teenage schoolboy, and yet the rapid beat of his heart seems terribly, achingly familiar.

“Among other things,” Essik smiles, and kisses him, softer this time, just a gentle press of lips against his. Where as last time was all passion and fire and shocked skin, this one is gentle, like a feather tickling the skin, and it ends quickly. “I should probably go, though.”

Realistically, Caleb knows he has to leave; that Essik has a job and a life outside of kissing and tutoring Caleb in magic, but right now the idea seems unfair, cruel and senseless, just another way of punishing Caleb for his past crimes. “Tomorrow, then?”

Essik bites his lip, and kisses him again. “I think I could find the time,” he promises, and there’s another kiss, deeper, and Caleb can taste his tongue. “We could maybe actually study, this time.”

Caleb wraps his arms around his neck, pulling him closer with another kiss. “Or we could explore those,” he’s interrupted with a kiss, “those other things you were talking about,” there’s another kiss, another clashing of tongues and teeth, until they find they need to breathe again. “I have ideas.”

“A locked door might be nice,”

Caleb kisses into Essik’s grin. “I think I know where to find one.”

If they don’t stop kissing now, they may never stop, and while Caleb can think of worse things, he also doesn’t want to get Essik in trouble. He pushes him away slowly, savoring what he plans to be the last kiss of the night. “You should probably go though,”

“Right,” Essik breathes heavily, still staring at Caleb’s lips. “I have a meeting. With the Bright Queen.”

Caleb reaches over, and straightens out Essik’s tunic, and rehooks the gold chain that had come undone around Essik’s ear. “Sounds important.”

“It--it could be more important,” Essik stutters as Caleb stands, offering him a hand up as well. “It could definitely be more important.”

“You don’t want to be late, though,” Caleb picks Essik’s cloak up off of the table, wrapping it around the gentleman’s shoulders. “I doubt the Bright Queen tolerates much tardiness.”

“You’re right,” Essik confesses, and looks down at his shoes. “I don’t want you to be right, but you’re right.” They haven’t stopped touching each other, Caleb’s hands on Essik’s shoulders, and Essik’s hands on Caleb’s waist. “I just want to keep kissing you.”

With a stronger willpower than most, Caleb leans into the embrace, and kisses Essik carefully on the cheek. “Tomorrow, then.” He lets go then, and squeezes Essik’s hand tightly instead. “I’ll walk you out.”

They leave the library hand in hand, and dream of better tomorrows.

Notes:

unpictured: Caleb's walk of shame back inside to be interrogated by the Mighty Nein.

also unpictured: Essik doodling cartoon hearts with Caleb's name in them during his meeting with the Bright Queen

#critical role #shadowgast #caleb widogast #essik theylas #mighty nein

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thorman-barnes · 5 years ago

Text

part 1

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

prompt: there isn't one

summary: everyone teases bucky about his crush on reader

warnings: none

masterlist

Wanda hummed to herself as she took a seat at the dining table in front of Bucky. His eyes flickered from his laptop to hers. "Guess what I found out," she grinned and began to reach for his cup of coffee but he snatched before she could grab it.

"I'm kind of busy," he replied and began to type away on the keyboard.

Wanda rolled her eyes and leaned back on her chair, arms crossed. "You know, you're a very different person when you're not with Y/N."

Bucky looked up with a confused look. He could tell Wanda was trying to pester up by the look on her face. "I don't know what you're talking about," he shrugged and went back to looking at his screen.

"Sure you don't," she accused and drummed her fingers against the table counter and waited a minute before talking again. "Did you hear Y/N has a date tonight?"

Bucky's head shot up to look at her, his eyes narrowed as he glared at the young girl. "A date? With who?" Panic was visible on his face and Wanda did everything she could to keep herself from laughing.

"I wish you can see your face right now," she laughed, hand slamming on the table as Bucky huffed and closed his laptop. He stood up and gathered his things, heading for the exit.

****

Bucky splashed some water onto his face and looked at himself in the mirror with both his hands on the sink. He was breathing heavily from his workout and he should have just gone straight to his room and left his stuff behind in the locker. But he didn't want to make two trips to this floor.

"Tired, grandpa?" Sam laughed and clapped his hand on Bucky's shoulder as he past by to go to his locker.

"Ha ha, very funny," Bucky grumbled and sat down on the bench between the lockers. He worked on untying his shoes then unwrapping his hand before taking a shower in the locker room showers.

"Steve, Tasha and I are going to a drive-in later, want to join?" Sam asked as he grabbed his duffel bag and began to throw his sweaty clothes from his locker into the bag.

Bucky sighed before kindly declining Sam's invite. He was exhausted from his workout and Wanda's teasing all day. All he wanted was to sleep in his for the next decade.

Sam scoffed, "Did I mention Nat's bringing Y/N?"

Bucky's head shot up and he looked over at Sam with a raised eyebrow. "And?"

Sam shrugged and slammed his locker shut. He turned to look at Bucky with a blank face. "Just thought you'd want to know."

"Why would I?" Bucky replied and took longer than he usually would have when taking tbe wrap off his hand.

Sam smiled and titled his head to the side. "Come on man, we all know you like her. We all see the way you look at her."

Bucky remained quiet and shoved his belongings into his bag. He walked to his locker across from Sam's and grabbed his towel he brought earlier.

"So when you gonna ask her on a date?" Sam questioned and sat down on the bench, staring up at Bucky.

Bucky turned and looked at him with an annoyed expression. First he had to listen to Wanda talk about Y/N's fake date, now he's going to be interrogated by Sam. "Go watch your movie, Wilson."

Sam shook his head. "I still have another two hours. Anyway. . . A little birdie told me that she has a thing for a certain brooding, dark haired soldier."

Bucky was thankful that Sam couldn't hear his racing heart. "Let me guess, the little birdie was Wanda."

Sam raised a brow but shook his head. "No the little birdie wasn't Wanda. It was. . . someone else. So, what do you say?"

Bucky rolled his eyes and threw his towel over his shoulder. "Let me know how the movie is." Then he headed for the showers.

****

"Have you seen Wanda and Y/N?" Peter walked up to the two supersoldiers who were playing pool.

Bucky looked over at the kid and was surprised he was even talking to them. Peter was chatty but he usually stuck to people he knew. "No, sorry, Parker."

Steve scoffed and both Peter and Bucky looked at him. "Oh come on, you haven't seen Y/N? At all?"

Bucky groaned and looked annoyed while Peter looked between the two with a confused expression. "No I haven't seen Y/N," Bucky replied with a mocking tone.

Steve laughed while Peter stood there awkwardly. "We're going for frozen yogurt if you want to come," Peter smiled as he invited the two older men.

"No, we're fine, than-"

Steve hit Bucky's side. "We'll go," Steve smiled at Peter as he interrupted Bucky.

When Peter gave Steve the details and left, Bucky shot Steve the meanest glare he could manifest. "What the hell, Steve?"

Steve shrugged and began to set up the game all over again since Bucky won. "Come on, Buck, you should be thanking me!"

Bucky looked over at the window behind Steve that overlooked the city. For a moment, he debated whether he should fling Steve through it.

"We get some dessert AND you can see your favorite girl or at least that's what you call her," Steve snickered.

Bucky rolled his eyes. It was one time. No one ever lets things go. "I'm not inna frozen yogurt kind of mood," Bucky shrugged.

Steve nodded understandingly. "But Y/N is going, I bet that's enough reason to go."

Bucky sighs. He knows getting rid of Steve wouldn't be as easy as getting rid of Wanda and Sam. Bucky and Steve are like brothers and Steve is comfortable enough to follow Bucky around all day if he wanted. "Fine, but you're paying."

Tag List:

@iamalphanow @my-marvelside-bl0g @m-a-t-91 @hoewkeye @im-just-another-monster @caswinchester2000

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes headcanon

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frizz22 · 5 years ago

Note

Heyyy, I love your work SO MUCH. Could I possibly prompt you to write something about Zelda and Vinegar Tom? She must have loved him a lot to keep a stuffed version of him so many years after his death. I’m just kind of craving a scene between them right now. Thank you!!

Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy this just as much :) Sorry it took so long. Read on ao3

It was the first time Zelda truly understood what a familiar was for.

Not just a companion, or a symbol that she’d come into her full powers. There was so much more to it than that.

She’d heard the stories, of course, read up on the great deeds of the familiars of famous witches and warlocks. But Zelda had never considered she and Tom would be in that kind of situation. Never anticipated she’d need saving. Believing she was powerful enough, more powerful than most. And that this would be plenty to keep them both safe.

And in any case, Zelda never wanted Tom to be lauded as one of the ‘greats’ among familiars. Great was a relative term. And it appeared as though all the ‘great’ familiars were granted the title because they’d died saving their witch. A noble end, or so the books all claimed. But it wasn’t an end Zelda wanted Tom to meet, never thought he’d ever come close to meeting.

Until she got too arrogant.

They’d been traveling. Had been for over a decade now, going wherever they pleased and picking up odd jobs or projects that sparked Zelda’s interest. The most recent one being curse breaking; specifically curse breaking on the ancient Egyptian witch tombs hidden within the mortal pyramids.

The first week had been exhilarating; one curse after another fell before her with relative ease. The locals were stunned and promptly hired Zelda on for another week, asking her to work on the darker, more powerful curses in one of the more remote tombs.

Only too happy to continue, Zelda and Tom made for the new tomb the next day, eager to see what it held. They went alone; the locals long scared off the place and Zelda not having the patience to babysit a novice curse breaker who would only screw things up.

Breaking through the first few levels of general protection and mortal deterrent spells was easy. As they made their way inside, Zelda held an enchanted torch aloft, letting it spread its light throughout the antechamber.

Zelda gasped in delight moments later, the torch revealing a four-armed skeleton—the trespasser having sprouted extra limbs before suffering an excruciating death. Digging the torch into the ground, Zelda examined the skeleton, casting various spells and making notes of her steps and findings to share with her employers.

Tom walked slow circles around her, sniffing the air as he went. His voice sounded in her head as she continued look at the mutated skeleton. “You know, if this is what we find in the entrance, imagine what we’d find if you stopped fiddling with that pile of bones and moved on.”

A snort escaped her, and she lifted her head to look at him. “Bored already, are we?” Zelda teased, arching a brow. “It’s a four-armed skeleton, Tom, aren’t you the least bit excited?”

Sitting down, Tom yawned widely, his tongue curling a bit at the end.

The response had Zelda laughing despite herself and she stood, dusted off her pants and grabbed the torch. “Fine then, impatient, lets carry on.” She cast a quick spell to mark the location of the skeleton so she could find it later and moved deeper into the tomb.

She moved further and further into the tomb, disabling a spell here and there, growing bolder with each one—unsure why the locals found this particular tomb so troublesome. Yes, there was the skeleton in the front chamber, but aside from that there was nothing daunting in this place at all. Nothing even magically challenging. From what Zelda could tell, the curses that were in place were rather weak. Perhaps the witches who’d charmed it had simply put the skeleton up front to scare away others so they wouldn’t have to go through the effort of actually making the place a fortress.

Or, a self-satisfied voice murmured in her head, perhaps Zelda was just that much stronger than the others and so it seemed like nothing to her. Tom, who was padded next to her and stopping to sniff one spot or another, looked at her then; sensing her internal gloating.

“Zelda,” he warned, his voice ringing in her head.

Waving a dismissive hand, Zelda scoffed. “What? I’m allowed to acknowledge my own power, there’s nothing wrong with that. I merely—”

“Zelda!” He cried, bowling into the back of her knees and knocking her to the ground. Just as she hit, sending up a cloud of dust, a screech sounded from where she’d been standing.

Scrabbling to her feet, though staying in a low crouch, Zelda’s hand snatched the torch back up from where she’d dropped it in her surprise; praising Satan she’d charmed it to never go out unless she said the right spell.

“Tom,” she whispered, scuttling back and trying to see through the dust. But only another screech greeted her, and Zelda practically fell backwards away from the noise, heart pounding in her ears. “Tom!” She hissed, peering through the gloom. Just then both Tom and the creature came into the sphere of light her torch was giving off.

It was a reanimated corpse, a mummy come back to life. And there was her familiar, hanging off the cursed thing’s arm, clamping down and shaking with his whole body as he snarled.

Zelda attempted to blast the thing, aiming for central mass so Tom wouldn’t be hit. The spell went right through the beast, if anything it only angered the being further. Screeching once more, it clawed at Tom, ripping him off and flinging him to the side so it could advance on Zelda once more.

But Tom got back up, in goblin form this time, and rushed the corpse, slamming the thing into the wall and sending up another blinding cloud of dust. Zelda was forced to cover her face, the gritty dirt filling her lungs and sending her into a harsh coughing fit.

When she recovered, the dust had somewhat settled and she could just make out Tom back in his usual dog shape, laying broken on the ground. The mummy in pieces off to the side, twitching slightly but no longer a threat.

A panicked sob tore itself from Zelda as she lurched forward, trembling hands hovering over her familiar unsure how to help, not wanting to touch least she cause more harm. “Tom? Tom?!” When he still didn’t respond, Zelda hiccupped. “Vin!” Her voice cracked but still he didn’t move.

Desperate, and seeing blood starting to pool underneath him, Zelda scooped up her darling Vinegar Tom, the only sign he was alive a soft whimper at her touch, and Zelda did the only thing she could think of—she teleported home. Home to Greendale. Home to her sister; Hilda the best healer she knew and the only one she trusted with Tom.

~~~~~~~

The jump nearly killed her. She hadn’t prepared for it, hadn’t left from a designated teleportation spot which were created to make international trips easier, safer.

By some unholy miracle Zelda arrived in the Spellman kitchen, swaying dangerously and Tom’s limp body clutched to her. “Hildie!” She bellowed, bursts of color filling her vision even as the edges went black as she swayed.

Her sister came barreling into the kitchen, confused and spell in hand. “Zelds?! You’re supposed to be in—,” she stopped, registering the state Zelda and Tom were in. “Oh Satan,” Hilda gasped, “what��?”

“Save him.” Zelda whimpered, collapsing into one of the chairs next to the table as she held out Tom. “Please, Hildie, you have to save him.” She begged, tears streaking through the grime covering her face.

Nodding vigorously, though slightly pale, Hilda carefully took Tom and hurried into the greenhouse where her medicinal plants resided along with the rest of the first aid kit.

And though she desperately wanted to follow, act as Hilda’s surgical nurse and heal Tom, the buzzing in Zelda’s head had grown stronger, and her vision was dipping and fading in and out as she sat there. Before she could summon something to restore her energy, Zelda passed out.

~~~~~~~

Some time later, Zelda woke up, tucked into her old bed, with a rough tongue rasping against the back of her hand. “Tom?!” She exclaimed, voice thick with emotion. The dog nuzzled her hand and pushed his head underneath her arm so that it was draped over him as he rested his head on her stomach.

Chest heaving, Zelda gently tugged Tom completely onto her lap and laid his head on her collarbone. Cradling him to her, Zelda stroked Tom’s ears as she cried in relief.

The door opening a few minutes later caught her attention; Hilda was back, a basket of potions and bandages slung over one arm. When her sister saw they were awake, a small noise escaped the back of her throat.

Slumping against the vanity, Hilda shook her head. “Don’t ever do that again. You understand?”

Lifting her eyes from Tom completely, Zelda furrowed her brow. “Do what?”

“Teleport like that.” Hilda admonished, pushing off the vanity and coming to sit next on the edge of Zelda’s bed. “You nearly did yourself in, making an international jump like you did. The exhaustion and magical depletion almost had you. Had you been even a few miles further away you wouldn’t have made it!” She was practically in tears by the time she finished, undermining her lecture a bit.

Grimacing in apology, Zelda shrugged. “Tom needed you.” She murmured, tracing a finger up her familiar’s nose, in between his eyes and over the crown of his head. “I wasn’t going to let anything happen to him.”

Softening, Hilda reached out and pet Tom’s head before starting to unpack her basket. “He got hurt protecting you, didn’t he?” And it wasn’t really a question, there’d have been no other reason for Tom to be in the state he was, nothing else could have caused it except a fight to protect her.

Licking her lips, Zelda nodded. “Yes, so it was only fair I take the same risk to protect him. To save him.” She breathed, dropping her eyes back to Tom and framing his head in her hands, playing with his ears; Tom’s tail thumped lightly against her legs in response.

Hilda rubbed the back of her neck and sighed tiredly. “Well, both of you need to be more careful. Take better precautions,” she scolded, handing Zelda a potion. “And you’re going to tell me the whole story, but first you need to rest. Drink this, it’ll help restore your energy and magic faster.”

Zelda drank the potion while Hilda gingerly changed Tom’s bandages, dipping the new ones in a potion before wrapping them around Tom’s various injuries. “Thank you, Hildie.” Zelda took her sister’s hand and squeezed hard. “So much, I don’t know what—” And tears clogged her throat, leaving Zelda unable to finish her sentence, that she didn’t know what she’d do without Tom by her side.

A small smile tugged Hilda’s lips and she nodded, leaning forward to kiss Zelda’s forehead. “Of course, Zelds. Now rest, and when you wake up again, we can talk. Just be glad Edward isn’t here, he wouldn’t give you a moment, would demand answers right now.”

Huffing, Zelda inclined her head in agreement, grateful Edward wasn’t home. With that, Hilda got up and left the room, shutting the door softly behind her.

“That was a stupid thing to do,” Tom’s voice chimed in her head, reclaiming Zelda’s attention.

Taken aback, Zelda blinked. “What? Teleporting here? What other choice did I have? I knew Hilda could save you. That was the end of the matter.”

“And if you’d died?” He cocked his head at her, ears lifting up just a bit.

Sniffling, Zelda shook her head and wrapped her arms around Tom. “Stop that. It didn’t happen so it doesn’t matter. And don’t go interfering next time.”

Tom sighed and rested his head on her chest heavily. “Zelda, what if I don’t interfere and you get hurt?”

Scoffing, Zelda shrugged a shoulder. “Then I get hurt. There are more resources to help witches than to help familiars. If you get in the way again, you could die.”

“Then I die.” Tom countered, taking her words almost verbatim. “That is the job of a familiar. To protect his or her witch, in all ways, from all things.”

Swallowing hard, Zelda shook her head. “No. That isn’t your job. Your job it to be here for me. To understand me when no one else does. To counsel me. To know me better than any other living thing. Your job is to be here, so I’m, so I’m not alone.” Tears slipped down her cheeks. “So, you have to promise, promise you won’t interfere again. So you can be with me for centuries.”

A low, soft whine emanated from Tom’s throat and he snuggled against her closer. “Zelda, I cannot promise you that. I want to be here for you always, but what you and I want might not matter.” His little eyebrows rose a bit. “And just as you could not stand to see me hurt or dying, neither could I do the same.” And she must have looked ready to argue further, because Tom huffed. “And if you die, I die. So, if we are looking at future scenarios logically…”

She hated that he’d used logic on her. Hated that it made sense and that he’d wriggled out of promising her he’d stay safe and with her always. But Tom was right, if something happened to her, well, he wouldn’t be far behind. It wasn’t fair, but it was the truth.

Instead of responding, Tom knew he’d won the argument already anyway, Zelda just cuddled him closer and shut her eyes to rest.

Today was the first time Zelda realized and truly understood what a familiar was for… not to be her closest companion and confidante; but to be her protector, her guardian. And, Zelda swore to herself as she drifted off, that she’d never put them in a situation like that again. Tom, her Vinegar Tom, would be with her for centuries to come, she’d make sure of that.

#caos #Chilling Adventures of Sabrina #Zelda & Vinnie T #Zelda Spellman #vinegar tom #Vinnie T #familiars #hilda spellman #netflix #writing prompt #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #AO3 fanfic #ao3fic

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

Text

as the stars align 6/? (branjie) - rujubees

A/N: A/N: hollywood enemies to lovers au; 4k - also on ao3

“Tell it to me again,” Nina said excitedly a couple of days later as she sat at Brooke’s house, only hours before they were due at the wrap party. Brooke rolled her eyes, Nina raising her hands in mock surrender.

“I’m sorry, you just don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for the Ice Queen to catch feelings. Let me enjoy myself!”

“Trust me, I can’t believe it either,” Brooke admitted quietly.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna have a girlfriend! It must be too good to be true,” Nina continued.

“It is,” Brooke began. “Nothing’s gonna happen between us.”

Nina sighed.

“Let me get this straight. She’s single, she likes girls, and you think there’s a chance she might be into you too. Seems like you have a good shot, Miss Pessimist.”

“It’s not that simple,” Brooke protested. “She just came out of a relationship. A serious one, long-term one. She said that up until last year, marriage was on the cards, Nina.”

“Okay,” Nina replied, trying to process Brooke’s reasoning. “But she seems pretty over this guy, correct? Didn’t she say that they’ve been growing apart for a while now? It doesn’t sound like you’d just be some rebound.”

“That’s what she says, sure. And I don’t doubt she believes it, but… I dunno. She seemed pretty distraught over everything the other day. I know she doesn’t want to be with him, but it can’t be an easy transition, throwing away years of a life you’ve built with someone else. She’s emotionally fragile right now, I can’t abuse that. She needs a friend. What if I made a move, and she thought that all along, I’d just been pretending to be nice because I want to fuck her? What if she thinks that I just told her to break up with her boyfriend for my own selfish reasons? She’ll go back to hating me all over again,” Brooke rambled, the possibilities of what could go wrong making her increasingly anxious.

“Brooke, calm down, you’re spiralling. If you’re honest about your feelings for her, she won’t think any of that.”

“But what if she doesn’t want me anyway, Nina? She hasn’t been single in years. She probably wants to spend some time alone, not running into another commitment already, I of all people can relate to that. And I don’t just wanna be some dumb Hollywood fling who she forgets about once this is all over.”

“You just gotta talk to her, B. Lay it all out on the table, tell her if you’re in, you’re all in. But don’t make that decision for her. The only person who can say whether she’s ready or not is Vanessa.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Brooke despaired. Nina shrugged, as if to say, this is my advice, take it or leave it.

“As much as your love life thrills me more than you could know, I do actually have business to discuss,” Nina diverted the topic of conversation.

“Damn, it hasn’t even been a week since As The Stars Align wrapped, but fire away.”

“Well, as you know, it’s now early August, and you have a gap in your schedule until early November when you start press for Stars, ready for an early December premiere and theatrical release a week later. I just got the news that a full mini season for the HBO pilot you shot in January has been ordered, and they’re willing to accommodate your schedule, so filming starts in two weeks and finishes a week before Halloween. So you’ll get a little time off before press, at least,” Nina told her succinctly, slipping into professional manager mode like she always did when they talked work.

“Sounds great,” Brooke agreed, already wishing that the discussion would go back to Vanessa.

“There’s a catch.”

Brooke looked up at Nina, expectedly, gesturing for her to proceed.

“The show’s moving shooting to Vancouver,” she revealed, grimacing, “It’s inconvenient, but I think you should do it anyway. Of course, they can recast if you say no, and I know you don’t have a place up there so it’ll be two months of hotels. But they know how lucky they were to get you on board and they’ve already made special arrangements for you.”

Brooke had wanted to get into TV for a while, always having felt that it was ahead of Hollywood in terms of female roles available and LGBT representation. She had no reason to say no. Except… it would mean that whatever she could possibly have going on with Vanessa would have to be put on hold.

“I really can’t believe you just spent the whole morning trying to convince me to make Vanessa my girlfriend, only to tell me now that I can’t see her for months anyway,” Brooke huffed.

“You don’t have to do it, Brooke. Lord knows you don’t have to work another day in your life if you don’t want to,” Nina argued.

“No, you’re right, I should do it. I’m not that bitch who’s gonna give up an amazing opportunity just to stay with her crush, what am I, fourteen? Nope. Besides, it’s probably a sign. This is exactly why it wouldn’t work between us; we’re always gonna be travelling the world and spending months away from LA. It’s probably for the best.”

“Okay, now you’re just being dramatic. Probably seventy-five percent of the filming you do is here in Hollywood, and this is just a one off mini series, you’re not signing over the next decade of your life. I still think you two would be good together,” Nina rationalised.

“Well, this is all hypothetical, because she probably doesn’t want to be with me anyway,” Brooke concluded. She loved Nina, but the woman was like a Disney character — a believer in fairytales and true love and with more optimism than what was surely healthy.

Brooke couldn’t let herself get her hopes up. One of them had to keep things realistic.

—

Vanessa arrived at the wrap party at nine pm, Silky and A’keria with her after managing to charm the organisers into allowing her to bring the both of them as her plus one. It was being held at a hotel in Beverly Hills — probably one of the poshest establishments that Vanessa had ever been to — and they had even been provided with rooms for the night.

Inside, it was filled with the cast and crew, alongside their guests, all mingling and enjoying the luxury of the chandeliers and the gourmet buffet. People were sipping wine, and there was music playing, but not too loudly, and it wasn’t exactly the kind of event Vanessa was used to, but she knew that as long as she had her Dreamgirls, she would be in for a good night.

She felt like That Bitch, with her beaded blue mini dress that was glamorous and expensive as hell but also a little slutty, and her her dark curls a little more polished and sleek than usual. And she knew that her mug was on point.

Her eyes scanned the room, affectionately taking in the sight of the people who had grown to become her friends. Michelle was chatting away in a group, her arm linked with her husband’s; Katya was sat on the lap of her girlfriend, Trixie, a little too casually for an occasion like this, not that Katya would ever care about that. Scarlet and Yvie were also together, hand in hand, whereas Aquaria, Kameron and Asia were laughing loudly as Shuga and Plastique gossiped in a corner.

Brooke was nowhere to be seen. It was rare for her not to be on time despite the mishap on the first day of filming, but the bitch did like to make an entrance.

“Can’t find your girl?” A’keria asked with a smirk.

“She ain’t my girl,” Vanessa denied.

“But you do know who she was referring to, surely that means something,” Silky chipped in.

“Y’all are a nightmare. Ima go get us some drinks, try and stay outta trouble,” Vanessa announced. She strutted up to the bar and ordered for the three of them, feeling butterflies form in her stomach as she thought about the idea of herself and Brooke being just steps away from each other that night. She wanted nothing more than for something to happen between them. Even though Brooke didn’t do relationships, and Vanessa very much wanted a relationship, it had taken every ounce of strength to reject Brooke’s subtle advances in the kitchen, and the more Vanessa’s feelings towards Brooke deepened, the less she was convinced she’d be able to turn her down should a similar situation arise.

“Hey,” Vanessa heard a voice to her right, and turned to see Asia, glass of champagne in her hand.

“Hey. Congratulations on all of this,” Vanessa smiled.

“You too,” Asia responded, smiling back.

“You uh, seen Brooke?” Vanessa asked cooly, staring ahead at the bottles lining the wall behind the bar.

Asia’s grin turned wicked.

“Don’t worry, she’ll be here.”

“I ain’t worried — why would you say that?” Vanessa gave a nervous laughter.

“Girl, don’t sweat it. You two are obvious, you know that, right?” Asia teased.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, everyone else does. And we’re happy for you.”

“I’m serious, bitch,” Vanessa said, with more sadness than she’d intended to convey. “There’s nothin’ going on between Brooke and I.”

Asia paused.

“Vanessa, my love, you cannot be that oblivious. I’ve worked on a lot of movies and the sexual tension you two have… it’s not common or normal between two co-stars. Whenever I’m around you guys, no matter what you’re talking about, it’s like I’m intruding on a private moment, because that’s just the energy y’all give off. It would be cute if it weren’t so annoying watching y’all tryna dance around it instead of dealing with it. So just cut the crap and climb that tall hoe like I know you wanna.”

Asia had been almost like a mother-figure on set, maternal and caring yet direct when necessary, but Vanessa had never heard he be this bold.

“It had to be said,” Asia concluded, flashing her perfect white smile proudly.

Vanessa excused herself, made her way back to A’keria and Silky with their drinks, and Vanessa was already aggressively downing her champagne when Silky begun tugging on her arm, pointing her towards the entrance of the room.

Brooke had arrived, and it took Vanessa a moment to snap out of her awe and realise that she was walking towards her, Nina in tow. A’keria and Silky decided that was their cue to make themselves scarce.

Brooke always looked incredible, but Vanessa had never seen her so dressed up in person, and the sight made Vanessa’s breath hitch. She had her usually wavy hair straightened into a sleek shoulder length bob, and she wore a red midi dress that hugged her curves, and all Vanessa wanted to do was put her hands all over them.

“Hi,” Vanessa greeted her shyly, pulling her into tight hug that lingered a little too long. When she pulled back, Brooke was giving Nina a pointed glance that seemed to be in reference to something which Vanessa wasn’t a part of.

“Hey, Nina,” Vanessa continued, pulling the other woman into a quick hug.

The three of them engaged in lighthearted small talk, about a range of topics — the movie, the party, what a beautiful hotel it was — but Vanessa couldn’t shake the feeling that Brooke was distancing herself. She didn’t understand her. Brooke had been so caring and thoughtful and even flirtatious the night Vanessa had opened up to her, but here she was now, barely weeks later, struggling to look her in the eye.

Vanessa wanted Brooke, and by now, she was starting to believe that Brooke wanted her too, at least on a surface level. She wasn’t always the best at reading signs, but she was pretty sure there was no platonic explanation for the way Brooke had leaned her body against her own and basically eye fucked her right there in front of the counter.

But the way Brooke was acting right now was just confusing. This woman had seen Vanessa at her very worst, seen her fiery anger and her uncontrollable tears, and yet Brooke’s demeanour would suggest that the two of them were merely colleagues, acquaintances at best.

—

If Brooke thought the chances for her and Vanessa were already low, they were pretty much on the floor now that Nina had told her about the miniseries in Vancouver.

But all of her resolve to keep her distance from Vanessa had crumbled the minute she’d walked into the wrap party and seen her co-star standing there, her old Hollywood pin up curls contrasting with the tiny beaded mini dress she was wearing. Blue wasn’t something she’d seen her in often, and it only served to prove her theory that there was no colour that Vanessa didn’t suit. Brooke didn’t know where to look — at her mesmerising locks, or her long, exposed legs, or her face that looked soft despite the fact that she was wearing more makeup than Brooke had ever seen her in.

Brooke felt herself get lost in Vanessa’s embrace, and that’s when she knew that if Vanessa held her like that again, she’d never bring herself to go to Canada.

For much of the night, Brooke somewhat avoided Vanessa. Not enough for it to seem like she disliked the girl, or that she was intentionally trying to stay out of her company, but she ensured that she spent plenty of time with other people, like Nina and Katya and Yvie, and that when she was with Vanessa, they weren’t alone.

That’s how she ended up in a group with Vanessa, Aquaria, Kameron and Asia, Rihanna’s Sex With Me playing loudly. It was a far cry from the rather tame, classy shenanigans of earlier; now the real fun was beginning.

“Bitch, I’m ‘bout to turn this out,” Vanessa said excitedly. Asia and Kameron had already began dancing together in way was a little provocative, but didn’t veer too far into more-than-friends territory.

Suddenly, Vanessa grabbed Aquaria and began grinding on her in a much less wholesome manner, and as far as Brooke could tell, they had both completely forgotten that she was still there, sipping her drink and watching on, not wanting to watch but unable to look away.

Their bodies were practically slammed together as they danced, and Brooke felt her throat constricting as Vanessa grabbed Aquaria’s head in her hands. Brooke was sure they were going to kiss, when Aquaria’s lips latched onto Vanessa’s neck, but Vanessa only tilted her face towards Brooke, making eye contact in a smug, challenging, lustful stare.

Brooke didn’t understand and was embarrassed to be unable to move from her spot, looking on like a horny straight boy who’d just discovered lesbians.

She felt moisture fill her eyes as she forced herself to consider that maybe Vanessa didn’t care about her after all. She was ready to move on, she just didn’t want Brooke. Maybe she never wanted her, and that was why the restaurant night didn’t go anywhere. Even if Vanessa was trying to make her jealous, she was being cruel. She must’ve realised by now that Brooke liked her, and there was no need for her to throw it back in Brooke’s face like this.

Brooke’s legs began working separately to her brain and she took off abruptly, walking briskly as far away from the party as possible, not expecting Vanessa to follow shortly behind her. Vanessa began calling her name, but Brooke didn’t even want to give her the satisfaction of looking back around at her.

“Hold up, Mary!” Vanessa pleaded as she followed Brooke into the hotel lobby. It was quiet, away from the main action of the party, and Brooke knew she couldn’t pretend like she couldn’t hear Vanessa any longer.

“What?” Brooke said coldly, facing Vanessa, trying to seem unbothered. It was in vain since her reaction to Vanessa with Aquaria had already made her feelings loud and clear.

Vanessa was always short, but Brooke had never seen her look so small, and she looked a far cry from the confident, empowered woman that had been present on the dance floor moments prior.

“Can we… talk? Like, in private?” Vanessa asked. Brooke nodded, and the pair walked together, palpable distance between them, up to Vanessa’s hotel room. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Brooke on edge of the bed as she undid her shoes, and Vanessa propped up on the dressing table. Their eyes kept finding each other, both of them unsure on how to proceed.

Vanessa spoke up first.

“So —”

“I’m leaving,” Brooke interrupted her. Vanessa’s face fell.

“Wh— what?” Vanessa chuckled awkwardly.

“Well. I’m going away for a few months, I just found out today. To Vancouver. I’ll be back by the time Stars is released, obviously, but who knows what I’ll be doing once that’s all over.”

“Why you tellin’ me this?” Vanessa pondered with a frown, “I know we good Judy’s an’ all now, but I still ain’t hardly see you outside of work.”

“I just thought you should know, this is the last night we’ll see each other for a while,” Brooke said, licking her lips and looking at Vanessa suggestively in a way that left nothing up for interpretation.

“Oh,” Vanessa smirked.

“Don’t make a thing out of it. I just… the way you were dancing… bitch, I’m only human.”

Something shifted in that moment.

“You were real jealous out there, mami,” Vanessa called her out, slipping off the dresser and crossing the small space of floor between them, coming to sit next to her on the other side of the bed.

“No I wasn’t,” Brooke protested futilely.

After a flash of hesitation — gone so fast Brooke wasn’t sure if it had even been there — Vanessa reached out her arm and rested her hand on top of Brooke’s.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“I — no.”

That was all the confirmation Vanessa needed to shuffle herself closer to Brooke and begin combing her fingers through her hair.

“What do you want, Brooke?” Vanessa asked sweetly.

It was as if a switch went off inside of her and Brooke suddenly processed that she was with the girl who she’d been pining over for ages, and she was very obviously coming on to her. She’d be a fool to turn her down.

“I want you,” Brooke replied. “I mean, just tonight. No strings attached, etcetera.”

Vanessa raised an eyebrow like she didn’t quite believe her. She was right to have her doubts, but Brooke knew it wasn’t the right time to be tackling feelings so as long as neither of them went there, they’d be fine.

“Tonight sounds good,” Vanessa consented, moving her hand up to Brooke’s thigh.

Brooke decided she had to kiss her before she ended up begging her for something more, so she lunged forwards and crashed her lips to Vanessa’s, hot and slightly salty from the tears that Brooke hadn’t realised had fallen.

It was familiar and yet a whole new experience at the same time, just the two of them, no hovering cameras or bellowing crew members to distract them from each other’s touch. They no longer had to restrain themselves, and Brooke couldn’t help but moan loudly into the kiss, making up for all the times she’d had to suppress such sounds.

“Ooh, she’s eager,” Vanessa mumbled in the brief seconds they were apart.

Brooke shut her up with another kiss, before pushing Vanessa’s body down on the bed and straddling her hips. “Do you know how fucking pretty you are?” she asked, her tone hard as she could make it as she sucked on Vanessa’s neck.

“You are too,” Vanessa responded so sincerely, it made Brooke’s heart skip a beat. Brooke began tugging at Vanessa’s dress impatiently and Vanessa pushed her off of her and began working her way out of it.

“This was custom, hoe,” she scolded, but there was a slight quiver of something — nerves? — in her voice, and all the attitude in the world couldn’t hide it. Brooke laughed anyway.

“Sorry,” she replied, figuring she should undress herself as well, leaving them both naked, and Vanessa further away than she had any right to be under these circumstances.

Brooke was used to being the quieter one out of the two of them, but they were both silent as they took each other in, Brooke’s eyes roaming over her perfect, golden curves.

“You’re —”

“Just get over here,” Vanessa cut in. Brooke obliged and slammed her body against Vanessa’s, and they kissed hungrily as Brooke pinned her against the ugly hotel wallpaper.

“Bed,” she panted, Vanessa whining as they were momentarily separated.

“So bratty,” Brooke noted as she began crawling on top of her. “But we knew that already, didn’t we?”

Vanessa wasn’t given any time to respond, and simply let out a gasp as Brooke’s hand began massaging one nipple at the same time her lips covered the other. She then began kissing her way down Vanessa’s body and up her thighs, knowing she was tormenting the other woman as curse words rolled off Vanessa’s tongue.

“Fuck me,” Vanessa moaned, and Brooke dipped her fingers gently between her pussy, before starting to draw swirls on Vanessa’s clit.

“Is this okay, Ness?” Brooke checked anxiously, and Vanessa’s moans and cries of affirmation removed any last seeds of doubt.

Brooke replaced her fingers with her mouth, and just minutes later, Vanessa was climaxing, repeating Brooke’s name like a prayer.

Brooke laid herself down next to Vanessa, feeling overwhelmingly lucky that she even got to see her like this, glowing and blissed out. They held eye contact for a few seconds and before Brooke could even collect her brain and start overthinking, she felt Vanessa’s hand stroking her inner thigh, making goosebumps raise all over her skin.

“Wanna make you feel good too, Mami,” Vanessa purred, kissing her thoroughly.

“Okay,” Brooke stuttered, wishing she could compose herself and provide a more smooth response.

Vanessa dragged her fingers from Brooke’s legs to her clit, and caressed it slowly, before speeding up, encouraged by Brooke’s enthusiastic response. Vanessa then broke their kiss and gazed up at Brooke as she began pumping two fingers into her pussy, and Brooke’s eyes fluttered shut, both from pleasure and an inability to look at Vanessa’s face any longer without saying things she knew she shouldn’t. Vanessa continued fucking her through her orgasm, before giving her a soft kiss that made Brooke long for a second, third, hundredth time like this that she knew wouldn’t come.

Once Brooke had recovered, she turned to Vanessa, who was looking at her coyly, sucking on her fingers irresistibly.

“I, um. I should go,” Brooke said, startling Vanessa with how quickly she got up and put her dress back on.

“What? Why?” Vanessa persisted with a pout. “The night ain’t over yet, girl.”

“I got a flight in the morning,” Brooke claimed. It was lie, but she couldn’t stop it from coming out anyway.

“Oh. Well, bring me back some of that maple syrup, Miss Brooke Lynn.” Vanessa picked her phone out of her clutch and began scrolling, looking like an angel with her body sprawled naked on the king size bed, hair fanned out over the white pillow.

“Would you, uh, zip me up?” Brooke asked, feeling like a fucking cliché but not wanting to walk all the way to her room with it undone. Vanessa hopped off the bed, began zipping her dress agonisingly slowly, fingertips grazing her skin and warm breath tickling her neck. Brooke could feel her heart beat loudly in her chest, every last drop of her willpower stopping her from spinning around and jumping Vanessa all over again.

“Don’t freeze to death in your igloos and shit,” Vanessa ordered once she had completed the task, and Brooke snorted.

“I’ll try not to,” she promised.

She thought about giving the shorter woman a hug, but she was still naked and she didn’t know whether that would be weird or not. So instead, she gave her a small smile and a soft bye, before slinking out of the room, questioning where the hell they would go from here.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #smut #angst #fluff #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers #lesbian au #as the stars align #rujubees #concrit welcome

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carmenlire · 6 years ago

Text

Higher than the Big Trees Ch. 18

read chapter one

read on ao3

Have a good flight! I hope you don’t get stuck next to an awful stranger :)

Magnus can’t help but smile down at his phone as he sees Alec’s send off message. He’s in line for airport security and trying to drown out the three children screaming behind him.

Magnus loves traveling but sometimes it’s hard to maintain his usual good humor when he has wailing drowning out the chatter around him.

Especially when he hasn’t had his morning coffee yet.

His flight was slated for seven in the morning, which means he’d arrived at the airport at a dastardly five o’clock.

He’d woken up in the middle of the night, disoriented and more than a little pissed off. Thank God today wasn’t anything important on the conference agenda; otherwise he’d be fucked. While Magnus had grown used to waking up early, this was just ridiculous. He doesn’t know what had persuaded him to book a flight so early-- especially on a Monday-- but he hates past him with a vengeance right now.

He has a brief moment to wonder why the hell Alec is up before the birds but there’s no time to respond as he steps up, handing over his driver’s license and boarding pass to a bored looking TSA agent. He’s waved on and takes off his shoes and belt, throwing his items into a bin and waiting his turn to go through the security screening.

A few minutes later, he’s sliding his belt back through its loopholes, stepping into his shoes and gathering his belongs, looking desperately for the nearest coffee kiosk.

Thankfully, there’s a Starbucks on the way to his gate and there are only a few people waiting in line. Rolling his carry on beside him, he gets in line and takes out his phone.

Thank you, Alexander. So far it’s smooth sailing but I’m in desperate need of caffeine. Who the hell flies this early?

He spends a few moments on Twitter, liking a tweet from Alec about progress in the studio before reaching for today’s issue of The New York Times. He glances over the headlines before it’s his turn to order.

He orders a venti americano, extra shot, and pays for the newspaper. He’s just grabbing his cup, paper tucked under his arm, when his phone vibrates.

Early birds, Magnus. Some people like to get a jump start on the day.

Magnus scoffs.

He takes a minute to tuck his phone back into his pocket and places The Times in his briefcase before heading to his gate, pleased to see that there are only a handful of people seated across the area. He sits down and takes a fortifying drink, easing into the strong bitterness of the espresso.

He debates on what to do. Checking his watch, Magnus sees that he has forty minutes before the plane starts boarding. He can fuck around on his phone, read a few depressing articles, or--

He could talk to Alec.

Even though it’s just past 5:30, Alec is obviously awake and coherent.

With a mental shrug, Magnus swipes across Alec’s contact, brings the phone up to his ear as it starts to ring. He’s just thinking that it will go to voicemail when Alec’s voice, strangely breathless, sounds in his ear.

"Magnus?”

“Good morning, Alexander. What on earth are you doing up so early? It’s not even light outside yet?”

He feels warmth trail through him as Alec chuckles. “Jace dragged me from bed at five to go work out with him at Fuel.”

Magnus hums. “Fuel? Is that why you sound like you just finished sprinting a marathon?”

“Sorry, Jace owns a gym called Fuel. He usually gets here around five and today he decided I needed to, I don’t know, release some tension or some shit. We just finished racing a few miles around the track when you called.”

“What else is on the slate this morning? I’m sure your brother didn’t bring you there just to run.”

Laughing, Alec says, “Oh, no, you’re right about that. We’ll probably spend a couple of hours sparring and end it with weights. He’s weirdly obsessed with what I can bench press right now. He says I should’ve gone soft while I was out on tour.”

Under his breath he mutters, “As if.”

Magnus can’t help but think of Alec, sweaty, hair disheveled, skin flushed. Fuck.

He really shouldn’t be so preoccupied with imagining how exertion would sharpen Alec’s already flawless features. His mind flashes to his brief, but ogling, glimpse of Alec straight out of the shower over the weekend and he shifts in the hard airport chair, suddenly far too warm in the chilly space.

“Magnus?”

Magnus clears his throat, realizing that it’s been a few seconds since Alec finished talking.

“Sorry, darling, I spaced out a little. Mornings just aren’t my thing. It sounds like you have a busy few hours ahead of you, though. I didn’t know you were so into working out.”

He can hear the smile in Alec’s voice as he says, “What did you expect, that all I did was take shots and dance? Tour is grueling and I need to keep my endurance and stamina up-- concerts are really just two hour workouts and I need to keep in shape to deliver the best performance for my audience. Plus, I think exercise is a stress reliever. I regularly run to help keep my head clear and with a brother like Jace, there’s no way that I wouldn’t spend my fair share of time in the gym.”

“I’m not much for cardio but I drag myself to the gym a few times a week and practice yoga daily.”

Alec clears his throat. “Yoga?”

Magnus responds, a little distracted as he watches a mother walk with twin toddlers down the aisle, rushing to help one as it falls right on its butt and starts gearing up to cry. “Yes, I’ve maintained my yoga instructor certification for almost a decade now and it’s the first thing I do in the mornings. I haven’t taught a class in a few years though.”

There’s a beat of silence before Alec’s offering, “Maybe we can workout together sometime. It might be fun to train with someone who isn’t such a gym rat.”

Magnus hears an indignant yell in the background and bites back a laugh. “That sounds fun, darling. Name the time and place.”

Moving on, he asks, “You played sports in high school, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Alec confirms. “I played soccer in the fall and baseball in the spring. How’d you know?”

Magnus takes a few sips of his drink, blowing over the lid to cool it down a little. “I read your article for Out Magazine earlier this month.”

“I didn’t know you read about me.” Surprise tinges Alec’s voice and Magnus can’t help but laugh.

“Alec, we already established that not only are you a celebrity but I’m a fan of your music. I think it’s to be expected that I might’ve read the occasional article about you-- especially once we met.”

There’s a beat of silence before Magnus decides to add a little extra tidbit. “I follow you on social media, you know.”

It’s muted, but Magnus is almost certain that Alec squawks.

“What? Since when? I know I’m being ridiculous, but I feel like I should’ve known about this.”

Thinking Magnus, replies, “I’ve been into your music for awhile. A few years maybe? I just liked something of yours when I was in line at Starbucks, actually.”

Alec’s voice sounds far away as he asks, “What’s your Twitter handle?”

“Luckily, there aren’t too many people in the world named Magnus Bane so it’s just my name. Am I on speaker?”

Distractedly, Alec says, “Yeah, I had to get on Twitter and follow you. Is it the same for Instagram?”

Magnus hums in affirmation and there’s a few moments of silence as Alec does whatever he’s doing and Magnus relaxes against his seat and enjoys his coffee.

This is nice. It’s not an awkward silence, like they’re trying to fill it and it’s just not working. They don’t have anything to say and they’re both content to take a minute.

It’s rare that Magnus has found someone who’s okay with not filling every second of dead air. Rarer still is for it to feel okay, good, relaxing. Easy. It’s absurd, but there are no expectations with Alec. Magnus doesn’t have to be the life of the party, always ready with a quip and amusing story. It’s enough that he’s there on the other end of the line.

He might be tired and a little annoyed at everything, but Alec makes him smile, relieves tension that even the smoothest travelling unfurls.

Magnus likes being with Alec in the quiet.

Sounding pleased, Alec’s voice is clear in his ear as he asks, “What time is takeoff?”

“I have about twenty minutes until they call my zone.”

“Are you excited for the conference?”

“I am. It’s going to be a hectic four days but I’m looking forward to catching up with a few of my peers I only see at these sorts of things.” There’s a pause before he can’t help but sneer. “I’ll have to be careful to avoid one of them, though.”

“Don’t tell me you have another professional rivalry. I didn’t think academia was so cutthroat.”

Magnus hears the teasing tone and his own lips turn up. “You have no idea, Alec. Academia is just as mercenary as any other field-- maybe even more so. But, no, this particular avoidance is for an ex-girlfriend. It’s the only time I’ve ever mixed business and pleasure and let me tell you, it is not worth it.”

“Oh?”

Alec’s voice sounds off but Magnus chalks it up to a weird connection. “It was during my Oxford days. Camille and I were both PhD candidates and we had a whirlwind fling for a few months. It burned out soon enough, though, and after the initial attraction, I realized what a nightmare she was. It petered out soon after but there’s always been, shall we say, a hint of animosity between us. We usually play it off as professional rivalry but there are a few people who know the truth.”

“That’s rough, Magnus. I hope that you can avoid her and still enjoy the trip.”

Magnus laughs. “Don’t worry, darling, I’m made of sterner stuff than that and I stopped feeling anything towards her years ago. It’s just an inconvenience at this point. I think we’re on a panel together tomorrow and she has the nasty habit of speaking over other guests. Honestly, I don’t know how she earned her tenure at Dartmouth.”

Magnus and Alec talk for a few more minutes about his schedule before he hears his zone being called out over the speaker.

“I’m sorry Alec, but I’ve got to go. We’re finally boarding.”

“Alright, have a safe flight, Magnus, and good luck this week. I know you said this was a fun trip but it’s also work and I hope your presentations go well.”

Magnus can’t help the little smile that comes over him, warmth lighting him up. It’s such a small thing, but that little gesture of encouragement and hint of familiarity means a lot.

“Thank you, Alexander. I return from the UK Thursday night but I’m afraid until then I might be a little behind on responding to messages, especially since there’s such a time difference.”

Alec laughs and Magnus can imagine him waving a hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about it. I know how it is when you’re away and get caught up in work. Have fun and I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Goodbye, Alec.”

Magnus hangs up and tucks the phone into his back pocket. He gathers up his briefcase and carry on and makes his way to the plane.

He’s in business class and by some miracle, the seat next to him remains empty. It’s a seven hour flight to London and Magnus settles into his seat, reaching for his phone and earbuds, drowning out the safety information.

He laughs a little to himself, deciding to listen to one of Alec’s albums. He presses shuffle next to his name and leans back, eyes closing.

He doesn’t mind flying and usually has enough work so that the flights go quickly in any case but he’s not in the mood to work on any of that right now.

His head is a little crowded with other things. With Alec.

There’s just something about him that Magnus can’t put his finger on. He’s not a stuck up, vapid celebrity. He’s generous and funny and sometimes he’s just a little bit awkward. That usually happens when he lets his guard down, when he reveals information that contrasts with the suave playboy image he's built up and Magnus loves it every time.

God Dammit, he’s adorable while still being hot enough to burn. There’s a man behind the reputation and Magnus is endlessly fascinated with him. They’ve only known each other weeks but it’s no exaggeration that Alec is the best part of his day. A text from him puts a smile on his face. The phone call just now distracted him from the damned early morning and the headaches that travelling always bring.

Hanging out with Alec-- Magnus firmly shuts down the part of his brain that wants to call those meetings dates-- is fun and comfortable and easy in a way that Magnus hasn’t experienced since college.

Magnus might be the life of the party, but he prefers to keep his real circle small. He has a handful of true friends and he likes it like that. Alec has wormed his way into things with an adeptness that has Magnus reeling.

Magnus might’ve liked Alec’s music and admired his stage persona, but he harbored no delusions that they were probably nothing more than a thin veneer on a spoiled child star. Alec had been in high school when he’d started his climb to fame and Magnus has seen enough celebrities, heard about them from Catarina, to know that most of them are lazy and selfish and debauched in a way that leaves a bad taste in most mouths.

But not Alec. This past month has let Magnus see that Alec is genuine in a way he couldn’t have guessed. Alec works hard to stay on top of things, he’s not infallible, and he’s kind. He's smart, can match Magnus wit for wit, and readily admits when he doesn't know something, listening intently as Magnus tells him or they look it up together.

He’s a real person and Magnus is a little surprised at that.

Distantly, he starts to think about the next stage. The stage that will never happen. As his thoughts turn, so does his mood.

Alec is the most interesting man Magnus has met in awhile. He likes the zoo and coffee that’s more sugar than caffeine. He loves his family to distraction and has a lovely sense of humor. He’s grounded and chivalrous.

He hasn’t told anyone, especially Raphael or Ragnor, but Magnus might be plagued lately with thoughts of more.

During the movie night Friday, Alec had been so damned comfortable against his side, a long line of warmth.

His commentary had been biting but hilarious and Magnus had had more fun than he'd had in ages. He’d gotten used to his friends refusing to watch the Twilight movies with him but having Alec over had brought a new layer of enjoyment to his semi-regular viewing marathons.

He really hadn’t meant to fall asleep with him, let alone wake up on top of Alec. When he’d first been waking up, he was helpless to do anything but nuzzle into the warmth under him, the soft t-shirt smelling like Alec, an irresistible scent only faintly touched by cologne.

Then he’d come to himself and realized that it wasn't his imagination or wishful thinking. He really was tangled with Alec on his couch. He’d frozen, waiting for Alec to slide out from under him or demand to know what he was doing.

Alexander had surprised him again when he’d gone with the flow, not questioning how they came to be pressed so close together.

Magnus had said the first thing that came to mind.

Well, not the first.

The first thing would have been how captivating Alec was in the mornings. His hair was a bird’s nest, stubble heavy on his jaw, sleep clinging to his lashes. He looked rumpled and soft and good enough to eat but Magnus had refrained from voicing any of those thoughts. Instead, he’d quipped something about looking less than impressive and Alec had given as good as he took as he remarked offhandedly about Magnus’s leftover makeup.

He’d cringed inside as he imagined how disheveled he must looked but he’d forced himself to let his shoulders fall back. It was just makeup and fuck knows that Magnus had looked much worse before. If he and Alec were truly friends it shouldn’t make a difference for them to see each other at less than their best.

He’d suggested breakfast, half expecting Alec to bolt at the first chance, remaining polite as always as he refused. To his surprise, Alec had readily agreed and the two of them had shared a lovely breakfast in the early July sunshine.

But not before Magnus had been treated to the sight of Alec’s beautifully sculpted chest, the dusting of hair over it sending his brain offline in the best way.

While he knew that Alec kept in shape, he couldn’t have predicted just how delicious the sight of him in nothing but a damp towel would be, that towel doing nothing to preserve his modesty.

Magnus had made a hasty yet dignified retreat, all the while thinking about just how much he wanted to get his hands on Alec.

When he’d come out of his bedroom and seen Alec reading against his bookcase, he’d felt warm and content.

He wanted Alec to feel comfortable in his space. He wanted him to feel welcome to explore or read or do anything else that struck his fancy.

It was purely wishful thinking if Magnus wanted for one of those things to be Alec pushing him against the nearest wall and kissing him senseless.

Magnus spent the rest of his weekend after Alec left catching up on work and errands. He’d made a trip to the dry cleaners, cleaned his loft and packed for his upcoming trip. A considerable chunk of Sunday had been spent grading papers and discussion posts, resulting in Magnus sending out a class wide email to his special topics class to clarify his expectations along with a reminder to all of his students about classes being cancelled this week.

He’d actually had a student respond to the email with Thank u god!!!!! at three in the morning. He’d huffed out a laugh in the Uber this morning as he’d seen it, rolling his eyes at their antics.

As the plane takes off and he feels the shudder as the wheels roll up and they begin their ascent to thirty five thousand feet, Magnus reflects that maybe it’s a good thing that he’ll be out of the country for almost a week.

He needs the perspective. He needs space away from Alec. While it’s true that he’ll have a great time over the next days, learning and teaching and catching up with friends he hasn’t seen in far too long, he’s also a little disappointed that Alec won’t be in the same city, that their messages will probably grow far and few between and phone calls will be nonexistent as his data is turned off for the duration of the trip.

He knows Alec only wants friendship and that there’s a million people who are lined up around Magnus for the shot of something more with Alec.

Magnus has a healthy ego and great confidence. He knows he’s a catch but he can’t help but worry that Alec sees him as nothing more than a friendly fan. Maybe the very fact that he’s admitted to enjoying Alec’s music for years and has followed him on social media for ages has automatically denigrated Magnus to a friendly face without the possibility for anything else.

He can’t blame Alec. Christ only knows what he’s had to put up with because of his celebrity. Magnus has heard horror stories through tabloids, through Cat, about the frankly terrifying number of people who are willing to use celebrities to reach their own ends.

Luckily Catarina had found Ragnor in college before she’d reached the level of fame she’s at now, but there have still been people over the years who had tried to befriend her only for it to turn out that they were only looking for an investor, bragging rights, or their own fifteen minutes in the spotlight.

Magnus thinks that it would be almost impossible for Alec not to be jaded, wary about new people.

No, Magnus knows that he’s solidly in the friend arena with Alec but that’s enough. Magnus thoroughly enjoys being Alec’s friend even if he wishes there was a possibility of a next step, a more intimate stage.

Magnus drifts off, his busy morning catching up to him, with Alec in his ears and in his mind.

#lol I broke up this chapter #because i got my word count and I wouldn't be able to write anything else for the rest of the day #httbt #my writing #my fic #malec fic #malec au #malec update

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nikkigrand · 7 years ago

Text

Sakutaro

Summary: When Haruno Sakutaro said that he'd date the hell out of himself, he wasn't being literal.

But they say that man makes plans and God laughs, and ain't that the truth?

Somehow finding himself in an alternate dimension where he's a girl, Sakutaro finds himself venturing into unknown, salaciously ridiculous territory...for science.

Word Count: 10k

A/N: Posting this here because male Sakura x female Sakura is trending! Warning, this is kinda kinky...

Kill me, I’m hungover.

Sakutaro groaned as he rolled over in the soft, dewy grass as the early morning sun warmed the lightly freckled skin of his bare shoulders. Burying his nose into what he recognized as a cluster of mint leaves, he inhaled deeply and found himself holding it against a giant wave of nausea.

A few seconds and a soothing pass of healing chakra later, Sakutaro felt sober enough to prop himself on his forearms and lift his head to search for his best friend through squinted, bloodshot beryl eyes. Except, he didn’t see any silky tuffs of platinum blonde anywhere in the expansive training grounds.

Rolling his eyes, Sakutaro stood with a huff and raked his hand through his messy jaw length hair before plucking a few mint leaves from the ground to chew on as he walked. It was so like Inomatsu to leave him for dead after a night of irresponsible drinking. The boar probably saw him sprawled out in some obscene undignified position and decided he’d just leave him there because, wouldn’t it be so funny if Sasuka tripped over him?

Sakutaro begged to differ, it would be the worst day of his life if the woman he’d been pining after for over a decade had come upon him while he was unconscious. Inomatsu would definitely get a kick out of it, but he’d been trying to impress the raven-haired beauty since he met her nearly fifteen years ago, and he would be mortified if he gave her any more reason to look down at him.

In fact, Sakutaro was sure Sasuka still thought he ate worms—never mind the fact that they were in their early twenties—and that was even after he slapped the shit out of that crazy rabbit god during the war. For some reason, no matter what he did, his teammate just wouldn’t notice him.

And wasn’t that just unfair? He had Naruko and Li practically falling over themselves for a date with him, and Sakutaro knew he was charming, so why wouldn’t the damn girl just see him and give him a chance? He wasn’t ugly (something a lot of women in the village would attest for) and he wasn’t stupid, he was one of the most intelligent men in the village. So what was he missing?

Sakutaro had come a long way from the sniveling, awkward mess of a boy he’d been when Team 7 first formed. He even stopped declaring his feelings for Sasuka—the whole lot of good that did him—and left her alone for a while. But he found, much to his chagrin, that it was hard to abandon such strong feelings for someone and he approached the situation with a lot more tact.

Sakutaro’s booted feet took him down the familiar dirt paths and roadways of his home village, the hitai-ite across his forehead marking him as one of her ninja, and was heedless to the villagers’ curious stares as he took thoughtful strides in the direction of the hospital. Too distracted by depressing thoughts to notice the lingering stares, Sakutaro shoved his hands in his pockets with a pout.

He’d once gone to Sasuka’s older sister for advice, and was too nervous to even articulate his dilemma, much less confess his feelings for her younger sister. Where Sasuka’s beauty was sharp and piercing, Itamina’s was soft and breathtaking. But where her face was soft, her eyes were hard and Sakutaro found it difficult to speak under such an unwavering stare.

He’d developed a bit of a crush on her that day, but he was nothing if not loyal. Sasuka held his heart, and the worst part was that she knew it.

God, how depressing can I be, Sakutaro sighed as his nimble fingers slipped his apartment’s key from his pocket. He could almost hear Inomatsu’s voice teasing him for getting so hung up over a girl, that shameless flirt. The pink haired man was comfortable in his sexuality (he’d have to be in order to withstand the mean-spirited teasing that came from having rosette locks) to admit that his blonde best friend was a handsome man. What was the word Saiyu had called him? Ah, yes, gorgeous.

Inomatsu was a gorgeous man and used it to his advantage, something that Sakutaro would loathe to say to the man’s face. He had a big enough ego as it was, with his stupid, long and silky cornflower hair that drew attention wherever he went. It was bad enough that Inomatsu didn’t seem to own any full length shirts, imagine what he’d be like if his tried and true rival admitted that he was the better looking one out of the two of them.

The man would walk the village naked, Sakutaro was sure of it.

As if he needed more female attention, anyway. Sakutaro scoffed as he climbed the few steps to his door on the fourth floor. Inomatsu had women trailing after him like lovesick puppies, and Sakutaro used to be slightly bitter that he didn’t have that type of swagger to make women jump into bed with him with only just a smooth word or two and a smile.

But, after a few one night stands and casual flings, he found that no one quite did it for him like Sasuka. No other woman was as fiery, as ruthlessly intelligent and efficient like her. They didn’t have her flame, her beauty, her will of fire.

Naruko was too loud—too brash and obnoxious with her orange clothing and blonde pigtails. She was also his best friend, and almost like a sister to him—which made things extremely awkward on his part when he hit puberty. And although she was strong and pretty, Sakutaro could never see himself falling for her—besides, Hinazo was in love with the girl. What kind of man would he be if he pursued the love of his friend’s life?

The asshole kind, that’s what.

The other women in Konoha’s Rookie 11 weren’t his type, either.

Chouko would never love him as much as she loved food. To Tenshi’s grief, Nemi was too serious and proud to consider dating outside the Hyuuga clan. Li had a good heart and was a kind girl, but she was too eccentric and youthful for his tastes. Shika was a genius and came from a good clan, but she was lazy and unmotivated. Kiwa was too wild and untamed, as were those from the Inuzuka, and Sakutaro wasn’t sure he’d survive that relationship. Shizu had an entire hive living under her skin—in no life would he be comfortable with that—and she was too withdrawn.

Therefore, the only other woman he’d see himself falling for is if he were a woman. Which, in all sense, would be impossible.

“If only.” Sakutaro grumbled to himself as he unlocked the door to his apartment, pushing the door wide with his foot as his hands worked to unbuckle the clasps to his medic and weapons belts.

But when his foot nudged the door closed with a slam, it was by the grace of his war honed reflexes that he caught the sharp kunai aimed for his head. Pivoting on the ball of his feet to face his attacker and wielding the enemy’s kunai, Sakutaro hadn’t dropped the blade only because his senses were confused—and maybe he was still slightly drunk.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my apartment?!”

Narrowing his emerald eyes at the petite woman before him, Sakutaro determined that he was not in the mood for any of Naruko’s pranks today. His pounding headache was starting to come back and he needed water.

Making his way towards his kitchen, Sakutaro was determined to ignore his pesky teammate until she got the hint and left. Except she’d do no such thing and stepped in his line of sight, right fist glowing and kunai bared in the other.

“I said,” she spat, “who are you, and what are you doing in my home?”

Swiping an impatient hand through his short hair, Sakutaro sighed, “Naruko, I’m not in the mood. Go home.”

“Naruko?!” The girl hissed, “Listen here, mister, I don’t think you know where you are and who you’re talking to—“

“Except I do know where I am and who I’m talking to, Naruko.” He stepped towards her, his patience worn extremely thin, “I’ve told you once and I’ll tell you again, that Oiroke jutsu of yours is inappropriate and I don’t want you using my image.

So, please, stop.”

Because, honestly, how creepy was it of Naruko to pay such close attention to him that she’d managed to catch even the most minute of details in his face to perfect her jutsu. Sakutaro was close enough that he could see the light freckles dusting the bridge of her nose in a way that mirrored his own. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever let her get close enough to see the flecks of blue in his irises and the thin blonde lashes he’d gotten from his father tangled with the customary pink.

The woman in front of him was an exact replica of himself—that was if he had breasts and other lady bits, and when did he ever have such long hair? As in, it was Sakutaro as a woman. Courtesy of Uzumaki Naruko.

“Naruto,” the girl growled, “This isn’t funny. I don’t know how you managed to copy my chakra signature, and I’m not going to even dwell on how accurate the little things are, but I’m letting you know right now—I am not amused. So cut it out!”

“Naruko,” Sakutaro barked, already having had enough of her games, “I’m not stupid, Naruto is the name of your male henge, so drop the—“

Wait, did she just say they had the same chakra signature? Naruko was smart, but not that smart, and chakra mimicry was a forbidden technique. His chakra instantly reached out to probe the other pink haired woman’s.

Normally, probing and outreaching with one’s chakra for another always had some type of feedback. It was why chakra control was of such paramount importance as a medic, a stranger’s chakra was always fighting against you. No two chakra signatures were as compatible to blend seamlessly, the only way that could ever happen is if someone’s chakra interacted with itself. And yet, that is what Sakutaro’s chakra did; it blended with this woman’s chakra effortlessly, almost as if her own signature was an extension of himself, and he stumbled back in shock just as she reared back as if slapped.

“What the fuck was that?!”

Their voices rang out in the apartment, both shinobi baring kunai at each other and eyes tracking each small ruffle of clothing and tensing of muscle.

“Who the hell are you?” The girl cried, her voice rising in pitch to match her growing anxiety.

“Who the hell are you?!” Sakutaro pushed back, his own voice deepening in response to the threat.

“This is my apartment and I asked you first!”

“Like hell! You’re all fucked up, lady, all fucked up! This is my apartment!”

“Excuse me?!” She screeched, green eyes the exact shade of his own blazing furiously, “You’re the one who’s delusional enough to make yourself look like me and then come barging into my home like—like you don’t know who the fuck I am!”

“I’m delusional?!” Now wasn’t that rich, “I have no idea who the hell you are, actually, so drop the stupid henge and release that jutsu you’re using to copy my chakra before I drag your ass to the Hokage!”

By the time Sakutaro was finished shouting at the girl, he had a split second to block her punch with his forearms (accompanied by a screech of fury, mind you) before it met his face. And wasn’t that a mistake?

The instant her fist met his arms, a precise output of chakra had him crashing through a hole where the window—his window, his!—used to be and he bit back a scream as the bones in his arms shattered.

Who the hell has strength like that?! It was—it was monstrous!

He skidded through the streets in front of the hospital (because wouldn’t it be so convenient if he’d found an apartment by where he spent every waking moment?), narrowly avoiding screaming civilians, and quickly jumped to his feet.

Sakutaro hurriedly directed his medical chakra towards the bones in his arms, wincing as each bone realigned and mended itself. He watched warily as his pink headed counterpart jumped from the hole where his window used to be and made her way towards him—his eyes narrowing at each crater following her footsteps.

Best avoid her limbs then; but no matter, Sakutaro had something even greater than monstrous strength—precise chakra control. All it’d take is a brush of his fingers and she’d be incapacitated long enough to drag her to the Hokage’s office and then T&I.

Adjusting his leather gloves, Sakutaro widened his stance in anticipation for a destructive fight when she came to a stop in front of him—ignoring the growing crowd of shinobi and civilians.

“I’m going to ask you again,” the woman started, cheeks flushed and voice hard as steel, “Who—“

“Sakura-chan!”

Both heads turned towards the loud voice bellowing from above. Sakutaro instantly recognized it as the gravelly baritones belonging to Naruko’s Naruto-henge and if his shoulders tensed anymore he’s sure he’d pull a muscle. Because if Naruko was there, then who was in front of him?!

He wanted to accuse Inomatsu of learning Naruko’s perverted jutsu and playing such a ridiculous prank on him, but Inomatsu didn’t have the chakra control to demonstrate such strength. In fact, in terms of brute strength, Chouka was the strongest in all the village—due to her clan jutsu, of course.

“What’s going on?” Naruko jumped next to his counterpart, and Sakutaro felt slightly betrayed. Naruko was his teammate, so what was she doing?

His confusion and hurt must have shown on his face because familiar eyes the color of the bluest skies settled on his face, already narrowing into slits before her lips curled in a sly grin—giving Sakutaro the distinct impression of a fox.

“Sakura-chan~,” Naruko sang, the deepness of her voice making Sakutaro’s skin crawl, “I knew you were kinky…using my kage bunshin for such purposes, how scandalous.”

“Shut up, idiot!” The one Naruko called Sakura screeched, the chakra emitting from her fists glowing brighter with her ire, “That’s not me!”

Instantly, playful blue eyes hardened into ice as they settled on Sakutaro’s taller frame.

“Oh?”

“How interesting.”

Sakutaro froze at the deep murmur that came from beside him, all too aware of the sharp tip of a kunai pressed threateningly to the nape of his neck. His eyes shifted to the left to see who had spoken and it was only etiquette that kept him from going slack jawed.

They even had Keiko-sensei going along with this stupid game? Team 7’s perpetually late Genin instructor with the sharp undercut and shuriken patterned scarf was now a man with wild, silver hair and a mask—of all things!

But Keiko-sensei wasn’t the one holding a kunai to sever his spinal cord, and Sakutaro would recognize the chakra signature crackling against his skin if he were deaf, dumb, and blind. It was Sasuka who was standing so coolly behind him, and he was absolutely appalled that they’d somehow managed to coerce someone as proud as Sasuka into this humiliating joke.

“Girls,” Sakutaro’s voice warbled dangerously, a cue to all who knew him to evacuate the premises lest they lose control of their limbs, “This game has gone on for long enough.”

Except Sakutaro was ignored as Keiko-sensei directed her attention to his evil twin, and the sting of betrayal was not pleasant.

“Sakura, who is this?” His sensei’s once smooth, pleasant voice was now as deep as Sakutaro’s own and he shuddered. It was so wrong.

“I don’t know, Kakashi-sensei!” Sakura cried, and Keiko-sensei called herself Kakashi?! What kind of name was that?! “He just walked into my apartment like he owned it and told me to get out!”

Sakutaro tensed as Sasuka’s kunai pressed deeper against his skin, feeling the sharp tip break skin and the sting that came from it—and betrayal. Traitors!

“How did you get into Sakura’s apartment?” Sasuka asked, and there was no way in hell Sakutaro could have suppressed the cringe that came from hearing his crush’s sweet voice be so masculine. She sounded like her father, Mikotsu-sama—if Mikotsu-sama had a stick up his ass.

But wait…

“Sakura’s apartment?!” Sakutaro exclaimed, incredulous, “That’s my apartment! I live there! I’ve lived there for the past six years!”

“Bullshit!” Sakura stepped towards him, hands on her hips and less defensive now that she had backup, “I’ve lived there for the last six years!”

By that point, Sakutaro had already had enough. There were too many oddities, too many inconsistencies with their behavior to be his teammates, so he pulled his hands into a seal and sent a pulse of chakra to unravel any genjutsu that could be causing this—this mockery of his team’s behavior.

When nothing happened, Sakutaro did it again and noticed that the other three were watching him cautiously to see what he was trying to do. Not that they didn’t know! They were the ones who had laid such an elaborate genjutsu that even he as a genjutsu perfectionist couldn’t dispel!

“This is no genjutsu.” Sasuka’s cool voice filtered through his brain until the only thing Sakutaro could reply to that was,

“Well, shit.”

How eloquent.

“Will you tell us your name?” It wasn’t a question, and Sakutaro knew as much.

Sea glass eyes finding his counterpart’s with a frown and furrowed brow, his fists clenched at his sides, “My name is Haruno Sakutaro. And you are?”

“Liar!” Sakura took another step towards him, eyes blazing so familiarly it made something in his gut clench, “I am the only Haruno with pink hair!”

The knot in his gut unfurled with his fury at the absurdity of her statement. “Bullshit! I am the only Haruno with pink hair!”

In fact, the color of his hair was because of some freaky recessive gene from his clan’s roots in Whirlpool (another reason why he’d never date Naruko, they could be related!) and he had been bullied all throughout his childhood for looking like a girl. They had even called him—

“Sakura.”

The rosette’s jaw shut audibly at his voice and she glared at him, daring him to refute her claim as a Haruno as if he were blind enough to do so.

“Your name is Sakura,” Sakutaro sighed as he dragged a hand down his face, “And I am Sakutaro.”

She stared at him as if imploring him to get to the point. If things were as his heart were telling him, then he’d be correct in assuming her patience was close to extinction.

“We are either family, or cut from the same cloth.” Sakutaro drawled, tired from the night before and tired from the joke his life had become.

His only consolation was if Sakura were as smart as he was, then she’d surely figure out what he meant, and judging by the twist of her lips and the furrow of her brow she’d understood him.

“I guess a trip to the Hokage is in order, then?” Keiko-sensei—no, Kakashi—hummed, already breezing past them in the direction of the Hokage’s tower and Sakutaro nearly groaned as he was forced to follow behind him—flanked on either side by the other three as if he were a prisoner.

He was still hungover, for Hokages’ sake! He just wanted an aspirin and some water, maybe a granola bar or two. Was that too much to ask?

Somewhere out there, wherever he was, Inomatsu was cackling away at his expense. He had a feeling this—whatever this was—had something to do with him. The man was always dabbling in fuinjutsu in conjunction with his clan’s Mind Transfer techniques. Sakutaro rued the day Inomatsu declared he had a crush on Naruko and decided the best way to pursue her was to have her tutor him in fuinjutsu.

Luckily for Sakutaro, Inomatsu quickly figured out that Naruko was even more of a loudmouth blonde than he was (“…and who even lets her out of the house in that crime of an outfit anyway?! Sakutaro! You’re not her friend. You don’t love her! How dare you?!”), among other things, and the conquest ended quickly. Unluckily for Sakutaro, Inomatsu continued to meet Naruko for fuijutsu lessons and he’d decided that his best friend Sakutaro would be his guinea pig.

As if Sakutaro wanted to have conditioner and hair pomade sealed into his skin…

He did, however, convince Inomatsu to develop a seal for storing herbs and plants on his body while also preserving their potency. The seal was still at its infancy, and if he remembered correctly, the platinum blonde had been working on it before they’d gone drinking.

Honestly, it was all a bit fuzzy. But all Sakutaro had to do was check his forearms to see if the seals were still etched onto his skin. It was too bad he wore compression sleeves up to his biceps, though.

Nonetheless, there was a link between Inomatsu’s drafted fuinjutsu, their unholy consumption of booze, and Sakutaro’s current predicament.

And, if he was right, Sakutaro was going to take such joy in shaving Inomatsu’s head.

The walk to the Hokage tower was as short as he remembered it always being, having been apprenticed by the Hokage himself, and the pink haired man wasn’t surprised that all of the receptionists he remembered as men were now women.

He was quickly adapting to his situation, he knew, or maybe he was just in shock? Either way, Sakutaro should have been surprised—he really should have—but he was not the least bit derailed when they just waltzed into the Hokage’s office and instead of seeing Tsubasa-shishou sitting behind the grand mahogany desk, he found his female counterpart.

“Tsunade-shishou.” Oh, and would you look at that, Sakura was also apprenticed to her Hokage, of course, “We have a problem.”

Standing in front of the generously endowed woman whose eyes were as eerily stern as his shishou’s, Sakutaro couldn’t help but be cowed. If this was his powerful and scary sensei’s counterpart, he had every reason to defer to her.

Tsunade’s eyes travelled from the tips of his booted feet to the top of his distinctive crown of pink hair, and he swallowed when a mischievous grin curled her painted lips.

“My, oh my, Sakura,” The Hokage crooned, “I didn’t know you were so resourceful. Kage bunshin?”

“Shishou!” Sakura cried as she flushed deeply while Sakutaro blanched. Just what the hell kind of sexual deviant was she?! And were those sake cups on the Hokage’s desk?!

“It’s not like that!” Sakura whined, her hand combing through her messy bangs, clearly frazzled, “This is very serious!”

“Oh?” Tsunade rose an eyebrow at that, “How serious?”

“Baa-chan!” Naruko—ugh, Naruto—shouted, “This guy here,” and he poked him to make a point, “says he lives at Sakura-chan’s place! But we’d know because she’s our teammate and since when does Sakura-chan bring guys home, anyway?”

Raising an eyebrow at that, Sakutaro directed his flat stare to the petite female looking like she wanted to hide under the Hokage’s desk and come out only when humanity keeled over for good.

“Oh my god, Naruto, will you shut up?!”

Smiling sheepishly at his teammates venomous hiss, Naruto tried a different approach, “Baa-chan! This is as serious as that time we thought Sasuke couldn’t have Uchiha brats!”

And Sakutaro could have sworn the temperature dropped several degrees when another, even more venomous, hiss sounded from beside him.

“Dobe, shut the fuck up.”

“Hey! Don’t tell me to shut the fuck up! You shut the fuck up! It was a serious concern for the village!”

“It’s not your business!”

“The hell it ain’t! Who knows what that snake bastard did to you while you were away! You sure as hell won’t tell us!”

“Because it’s none of your—“

“Enough!”

Sakutaro would neither confirm or deny that he jumped at the booming sound of the Hokage’s voice, but wow Tsubasa-shishou would be proud. The woman commandeered attention as well as he did.

“You!” Sakutaro immediately directed his attention to the Hokage at her bark, “You tell me what is going on!”

Clearing his throat to stall for time and hands twitching at his side, Sakutaro struggled to come up with an explanation without sounding like an irresponsible idiot. How does one explain to a foreign kage—who’s supposed to be his village’s kage—that he and his best friend had been tampering with fuinjutsu before getting hammered? And then forgot all about said fuinjutsu?

It was quickly becoming apparent that no matter how he said, phrased, or fenagled it, Sakutaro was going to sound like a fucking moron.

Swallowing his dread, Sakutaro decided that if Tsunade was essentially Tsubasa, then she could probably smell his fear and he might as well get it over with.

“Well, Hokage-sama,” he started, voice rough but even, and thank the world for small miracles, “I’m not entirely sure what exactly is going on.”

“Well, then start from the beginning.”

Knowing an order when he heard one, Sakutaro slipped into every ninja’s mission debrief mindset.

“My friend, Inomatsu, and I were experimenting with fuijutsu,” the ninja in the room tensed and Sakutaro hurriedly continued before they pounced, “nothing too dangerous or serious. Inomatsu is a novice in the field, even if he is a brilliant learner, and he theorized that sealing fuinjutsu transported items to empty dimensions for storage purposes. By drawing seals onto the skin, we’d be able to direct chakra to it without using blood as a conduit, and Inomatsu decided he wanted me to give it a try.”

“Why you?” Sakura asked, gears churning in her head as everyone listened intently.

“Because I have absolute perfect chakra control.” And Sakutaro couldn’t help but be smug every time he said that because he was the only shinobi in all the Five Shinobi Nations to have such absolute control of his chakra.

Except Sakura didn’t seem so impressed and rolled her eyes, “Oh, big whoop, I do too.”

Bristling a little at her shut down, Sakutaro ignored her and resumed his debrief, “It worked, but only for small items. Inomatsu was disappointed, but he’d decided that the seal working was reason enough to celebrate—so we did. My friend is a very demanding man, so I didn’t have time to properly remove the seals before we left.”

“So, let me guess,” Tsunade mused dryly, “You and your friend, Inomatsu, then got completely wasted and don’t remember a lick of what happened after that.”

Bowing his head sheepishly, Sakutaro scratched the back of his neck nervously, “That is correct, Hokage-sama.”

Shaking her head at what must be his stupidity, the Hokage waved her hand lazily and he continued his story.

“At some point during the night, I assume Inomatsu tried to modify the seal and—we were both drunk, I don’t know why I agreed. And I must have tried to use it, I don’t see why else I’d be here…” Sakutaro trailed off, coughing awkwardly to stave his embarrassed flush.

“The next thing I know, I’m waking up on Training Ground 3. I don’t know how I got there, I figured that Inomatsu and I had passed out there since it’s where my team and I spend most of our time. But I couldn’t see him when I woke up, so I went home, and I found, um, Sakura there and she then proceeded to shatter my forearms.”

There was a slight silence after his report where Tsunade stared at him like he was an idiot, and Sakura and Naruto stared at him like he was an idiot, and Sakutaro wouldn’t dare look at Sasuka’s—Sasuke’s—face.

And who even knew what Kakashi thought behind that ridiculous mask?! It wasn’t like he didn’t know what was behind it anyway! What was so shameful behind a mole?

After everyone reached a consensus that Sakutaro was an idiot, Kakashi was the first to speak.

“Luckily for you, Naruto here is our resident seal master. May we look at them?” How nice of them to poise it as if he had a choice. His voice was muffled behind his book, appearing to be uncaring and distracted, but Sakutaro would be a fool not to know that the man was always poised to strike. He knew Keiko-sensei was.

Shrugging, he slipped off his gloves and started pulling up the tight sleeves to expose his forearms as they huddled around him. “Sure.”

The more his seals were revealed, the more Sakutaro wanted to roll his sleeves down. Inomatsu had modified the seals all right…with smiley faces and squiggles and was that a penis?

Naruto’s howl of laughter confirmed that yes, that was indeed a phallus drawn in permanent ink on his forearm; and as Tsunade-sama handed him a cup of sake, Sakutaro vowed to shave Inomatsu’s head and eyebrows.

The rice wine burned as it went down his throat and he tried his hardest to ignore the veiny depiction of the male anatomy taking residence on his corded forearms. Sakura looked at him with sympathy as Naruto grasped his arms with surprisingly gentle hands, bringing his crown of blonde closer to get a better look. Sakutaro took small comfort that even in this, wherever he was, he was still taller than the Uzumaki—even if it was now only by a few inches.

Naruto’s spiky hair brushed against the tip of his nose, bringing with it the peculiar scent of ramen and wind. Wrinkling his nose, Sakutaro decided that it wasn’t entirely unpleasant and not unlike Naruko’s normal scent, but she at least wore a bit of that expensive perfume Hinazo had gifted her. Naruto probably didn’t even do his laundry…

“Well, Sakutaro-baka,” Naruto cheerfully started, his head still downturned and therefore blissfully unaware of the scathing glare the pink haired man directed at his head, “This is so weird, but also so funny.”

Sakutaro didn’t think it was funny at all! How was any of this even remotely funny?

Naruto pointed towards a squiggle that served as a smiley face’s eye, “With this right here,” then he pointed to a squiggle that served as a shamefully thick vein in Inomatsu’s art, “and this,” his calloused fingertip slid down his pale forearm to stop on a sharp line that may or may not have been the beginnings of an obscene character, “and this, you and your friend have yourselves a space time ninjutsu conduit. Apply a little bit of chakra and bam! You’ve got yourself a case of interdimensional travel.”

Sakutaro could only stare at the blonde blankly because they did what?!

“Are you familiar with space time ninjutsu?” Sasuke asked from beside him, bi-colored stare trained unnervingly on his own bewildered orbs.

“Vaguely.” Sakutaro replied slowly, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he and Inomatsu had managed to bullshit their way to another dimension. “Kagumo, the rabbit god, used it often during the Fourth War.”

“Kagumo?” Sakura repeated sharply, drawing his attention to her, “Was that the male version of Kaguya?”

Sakutaro nodded, “Aa. He was very difficult to defeat. We were lucky that my team and Itamina-san were there to seal him away.”

He couldn’t help the sadness that churned in his chest at remembering the war and he averted his gaze, swallowing the lump in his throat. “We lost many souls on that battlefield. It was a bloody war.”

Jerking in surprise at the feel of small hands brushing against his own, Sakutaro caught the haunted look in Sakura’s eyes as she withdrew her hands.

“Ours too.”

It was then, at that moment, that Sakutaro knew that he and Sakura were one in the same. A medic might understand his pain—his grief at the cumulative loss of life—but only he could understand the hollow feeling of failure. Of not being fast, good, strong enough to be everywhere at once like Naruko—and by extension, Naruto—could be.

Losing so many Allied shinobi was a crippling blow not only for the shinobi forces, but for morale. The medics were too tired, too hungry, too chakra deprived to heal the shinobi who’d been gutted but who would have lived if only they’d had enough chakra.

Sakutaro had retrieved too many bodies from the battlefield whose souls could have been saved if only they’d had enough medics with enough combat experience and chakra to send to the front lines. As one of the only medics with combative training, Sakutaro was not—under any circumstances—allowed to expend all of his chakra on healing. In the case of an attack on the Medic Corp’s established base, he and a few others would be their front line of defense. He’d stood idly while shinobi he could have saved perished because of his commander’s orders, and he’d never be able to forgive himself.

Sakutaro had devoted years of his life to medical ninjutsu, to learning such intimate details of the human body and how to stitch, mend, and fight death by sheer force of will to get to where he was. He’d spent grueling hours perfecting his task, buried under heaps of medical scrolls and devouring tomes, breaking and rebreaking, mending and mending and mending his bones and hurts in an endless cycle in pursuit of nothing short of excellence. What good was he if he couldn’t even save one dying person? Or ten? Or hundreds? Gods knew he had the skills, but not the chakra.

And something viscous and angry had crawled up his throat to fill that hollow feeling of failure in his chest for one, awful moment when Naruko’s chakra had consumed the entire battlefield to regenerate lost limbs and punctured organs. Naruko, who had never had any type of formal training and didn’t know the difference between the fibula and the ulna, could regrow legs and arms with just a wave of her hand from hundreds of feet away. She, in a few minutes, had done what he and his medics and tried to do for the last year, and wasn’t that just fucking unfair?

The war took something from him—from all of them, and all the shinobi killing and dying on the battlefield for peace or love, or for war, they would always be him. Sometimes, Sakutaro would look to the horizon in the direction of that horribly scarred and empty battlefield that would never heal just to close his eyes and look away.

They were still out there.

And with a fleeting gesture and a moment of soul bearing eye contact, Sakutaro knew that Sakura understood him probably deeper than he understood himself.

“Wait,” Naruto dropped Sakutaro’s hand, stepping away to scratch at his head, “You were in the war? With us?”

Sakutaro’s lips twitched at Tsunade-sama’s muffled “Idiot,” and shook his head.

“While I was in a war, I was not in your war, Naruto-san.” He explained patiently, not entirely unlike the way he’d go about teaching aspiring medical ninja, “As your teammates have already figured out, I’m from a different dimension. One where you and everyone here exist…differently.”

Naruto stared at him like he’d said something exceptionally stupid, which was saying something because it was Naruto, who—like Naruko—was not the brightest bulb in the bunch. They were brilliant in other ways, but some things just weren’t their forte.

“You expect me,” Naruto drawled slowly and with flourish, “Konoha’s resident fuinjutsu expert, to believe that you and some other moron created a dimensional portal with some squiggly lines, a smiley face, and a drawing of a dick next to a storage seal?!”

Naruto dissolved into howling laughter, tears streaming down his whiskered cheeks, “As if!!”

“You were the one that said it was a space time ninjutsu conduit, asshole.” Sakutaro grit his teeth as Naruto’s laughter rose in volume. Fortunately for Sakutaro, no one else found it quite as funny.

“Okay, okay,” Naruto wheezed in between heaping bouts of ugly laughs, “One: I’m not the asshole, you’re the asshole! And two: I was only speaking hypothetically. As in, if you didn’t have all this other shit around it, then that’s what it’d be! But since you got a wiener on your arm, it’s literally impossible for it to work!”

“And yet here I am.” Sakutaro told Naruto, voice contemptuous and wry, almost as if he wanted to spread his arms like a bird and bow for his graceless audience.

Sobering up, Naruto placed a fist on his hip and scratched his chin with the other, eyes squinting and head tilting as he observed the taller man’s face.

Never was there a day when Sakutaro was happier to note that in Naruko’s extensive list of facial expressions, Naruto’s current face was not one of them.

“So,” Naruto pursed his lips, “Hypothetically speaking, if you were from a dimension where things were different, who would you be here?”

“Dobe…” Sasuke very nearly groaned at his blonde teammate’s idiocy. Sakutaro could relate; was Naruto not able to read chakra signatures?

“Shut up, Sasuke-teme!” Naruto spat, “This is a legitimate question!”

“He’d be me, Naruto.” Sakura growled from where she stood next to the Hokage’s desk, fingers rubbing her temples in circular motions, “I am him, and he is me. We are the same person—just from different dimensions.”

Naruto’s mouth dropped open silently, before he shut it with an audible click to stare at Sakutaro suspiciously. “I don’t believe you. You can’t be Sakura. Prove it.”

Blinking slowly at his demands, Sakutaro turned his head expectantly at his female self. It seemed she was at a loss for words, as well. There weren’t many ways to prove a person’s identity. There were the obvious two: DNA analysis and chakra signature identification. But those methods took days, and Naruto looked like he wanted an answer now.

Fortunately, Tsunade was there to save the day.

“And how do you suppose they prove it, brat?” The busty blonde sighed as she leaned an elbow on her desk with her cheek resting against her fist.

Naruto sputtered for a response, clearly not having thought that far, before settling on whatever his mind must have first latched onto, “What’s something only Sakura-chan would know?!”

“Naruto,” Sakura intoned, exasperated beyond all belief, “He wouldn’t know anything about me because he’s not me! He is the guy version of me! It doesn’t mean we have the same mind!”

“Well then, I don’t know!” Naruto huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “But he’s not Sakura-chan unless he proves it.”

Having apparently had enough of the tomfoolery (something Sakutaro had quickly grown tired of himself), Tsunade stood and pointed a perfectly manicured finger at her female apprentice.

“Sakura,” Tsunade said, voice sharp as a whip, “You have two birth marks, correct?”

Sakura squeaked, and then blushed deeply, “Yes, shishou.”

“Wonderful.” Clapping her hands, Tsunade gestured towards the storage closet by the book case where Tsubasa-shishou kept his cleaning supplies. “Go in there and confirm that yours and Sakutaro’s match.”

Excuse you, lady?! She wanted him to what?! No!

From an outside perspective, all shinobi in the room watched intently as an identical shade of rose flushed up the two pink haired people in the room up to the roots of their hair. The female of the two fanning herself and the male shaking his head resolutely.

“No, absolutely not.” Sakutaro replied, completely adverse to the idea as Sakura also shook her head.

Tsunade’s eyes narrowed, “You think you have choice? Get in there before I make you do it in front of these three!”

Sakura squeaked and made a beeline towards the closet, Sakutaro dragging his feet behind him as he followed. Inomatsu must definitely be cackling behind some stupid book on poisons by now. It’s just his luck, just his luck, that he’d have to show his embarrassing birth mark to someone—both in such intimate places, too!

As Sakura opened the door to the storage closet, pulling the chain to the light bulb as she went, Sakutaro’s breath picked up as he nervously shuffled in behind her as he shut the door. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been with a woman before, or been naked around one. And he’d seen plenty of female bodies as a medic, this was no different.

Plus, Sakura was himself. He was Sakura. There was nothing weird about getting naked in front of yourself, right? It’d be like looking in the mirror…if his reflection had breasts and lady bits. God, he was twenty-two and could barely stomach the word vagina in reference to himself!

He was doomed. He was so nervous. Why was he so nervous? His palms were clammy and he wished he’d put his gloves back on, no one likes clammy palms. But it didn’t matter! It wasn’t he was going to touch her—himself?—anyway, so it didn’t matter!

His wide eyes scanned the closet for something to focus on. Was it small in there, or was it just him?

“Okay,” Sakura sighed, twirling a muted lock of pink around her finger and looking everywhere but at him, “Let’s go at this like medics, okay?”

He didn’t trust himself to speak, so Sakutaro nodded.

“Okay.” Sakura nodded to herself, and he admired the smooth collectiveness of her voice, “You’re a medic, I’m a medic. This is just another physical, nothing to be nervous about.”

Her eyes were identical to his own when they sought them, and he bit back a huff of surprise at her proximity because he could see the blue in her eyes even in the dimness of the supply closet. So, yeah, the closet was definitely smaller with two people in it.

“Besides,” she said shyly with a tremulous smile, “You’re me and I’m you, right? We-we shouldn’t be nervous! So, let’s just get this over with, hm?”

Sakutaro nodded in acquiesce, eased by her gentle bedside manner, but the trembling in Sakura’s hand as she reached for the zipper of her vest belied her nerves. Dissociating himself from the situation, he forced himself to look at her as other patient—something that was admittedly not hard to do—but as the tug on her zipper revealed inches of smooth skin, a lock of long rosette hair fell forward to brush against the curve of her breast and his concentration was shot.

Sakutaro was so embarrassed he wanted to cry. He, the great Sakutaro—hero of the Fourth Great War, one third of the second coming of the legendary three, wrecked by the appearance of his female counterpart. He couldn’t even dissociate! The situation was too weird! What medic couldn’t dissociate themselves?!

But it was his medical and scientific curiosity that spurred him to drink in the sight of her exposed flesh, light freckles and tiny moles placed identically on his own body (freckles only on his shoulders from being in the sun, one tiny mole under his collarbone, two others by his ribcage and his elbow.) His eyes clinically swept up the elegant curve of her neck, taking in her full lips, the straight slope of her small nose, her large eyes staring at him demurely, all set in a pretty heart shaped face.

Sakura was beautiful.

And wow wasn’t that a fucking weird thought? It was so weird, soso weird! But, Sakutaro fancied himself a handsome man, so it’d only be logical that he’d find his female counterpart beautiful, right? He was Sakura, Sakura was Sakutaro.

It was then that he noticed that she was looking up at him expectantly, and she was just so small! He was well over a head taller than her! He’d always thought, in some depraved part of his brain, that if he were ever a woman, he’d be as tall as he is now.

Well, apparently not.

“Y-Y’know,” Sakutaro cleared his throat as if that’d get rid of his nerves, “We don’t have to look at anything. We can just walk out of here and say that we did. No big deal, right?”

Just as Sakura started to nod along to his suggestion, a booming voice sounded clearly through the door, “Haruno Sakura, I dare you to lie to me!!”

Said girl “eep!’d” before repeatedly banging her head gently against the shelves. Sakutaro exhaled nervously, a small grin finding place on his lips as he tried to scratch the back of neck in a nervous gesture he’d picked up from Tenshi, only to put his arm down because the space was too limited.

“She’s scary, huh?”

Sakura huffed a small laugh, “Yeah, she is. The scariest, you have no idea.”

Sakutaro hummed. “Oh, I think I might.”

“Is your shishou scary as hell, too?”

“Tsubasa-shishou is absolutely terrifying. I swear they cow village children by telling them Tsubasa is going to get them if they don’t behave.”

Sakura giggled softly, eyes dancing in the dim light, “I hear visiting mothers at the hospital tell their children to eat their vegetables or else the scary Tsunade-hime is going to make them eat pebbles!”

Their quiet laughter was interrupted by a loud banging on the door, “I did not send you in there to have a tea party! Do as you’re told and get out here!”

Rolling her eyes but still keeping a grin on her face, Sakura unzipped the rest of her vest as Sakutaro did the same.

“I stopped having tea parties when I was five.” Sakura mumbled under her breath as she undid her chest bindings, her fingers freezing when Sakutaro’s head lifted sharply from where he was attempting to unclasp his belts to stare at her with wide eyes.

His mouth dropped open silently, words forming but unable to speak.

“You…?” Sakura’s own lips were hesitant, frozen as a statue, eyes widening in wonder as a bright flush bloomed across Sakutaro’s cheeks.

“Don’t tell anyone!” Sakutaro gasped before shyly averting his gaze, fingers working clumsily to undo loops and buckles.

At Sakura’s silence, Sakutaro added softly, “I was alone a lot, and I didn’t have many friends until Inomatsu.”

Glancing at her from beneath his lashes, Sakutaro watched her bite her lip as a gentle smile softened her face, “It’s okay, me too. I won’t tell.”

He smiled gently in response, and Sakutaro crossed his arms. This part would be easier for him than it was for her, and he lowered his gaze respectfully when Sakura reached the last of her chest bindings.

“Alright,” Sakura sighed, “Let’s get this over with.”

Carefully lifting his eyes to stare directly into her own, he found her standing awkwardly with her arms crossed over her chest. He made sure to look nowhere else but her eyes until she told him to, he did not want shattered forearms again—thank you very much.

She was very nervous, he could tell, and so was he. But he didn’t have to expose himself like she did, so perhaps if he made her laugh…?

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” He grinned at her, eyes warm and keeping a respectful distance. His grin, however, faltered when she blanched and made a face like he’d just farted.

“Ew,” she frowned, “Don’t say that! You’re such a guy!”

“What?!” He laughed, slightly confused but picking up on the teasing lilt in her voice, “I was only trying to make you laugh!”

“But what you said was so dirty!”

“Listen here, woman, I go only where your mind takes me.”

“Oh, my god,” Sakura groaned, hiding a smile behind her hand, “I’m such a dork.”

“I am not!”

Clearing her throat, Sakura held eye contact with him and dropped her arms and Sakutaro, in light of her professionalism and the less awkward atmosphere, successfully dissociated himself enough to reach out with a clinical hand to push aside her vest—right over her pounding heart—to look closely at the nipple of her left breast.

He hoped she forgave him for what he was about to do, but he couldn’t see very well, so he brought his head closer—close enough for his breath to fan across it and see it pebble in response—and angled her towards the light.

A small smile curled his lips as he glanced up at Sakura, who was doing her best to avoid looking at him. There, crossing onto the skin of her nipple from her areola was a slightly darker patch of skin in the shape of an oval. One that matched the one on his own left nipple.

Releasing her vest and taking a step away from her, Sakutaro nodded his head and Sakura nodded back before boldly pushing his vest aside with cold fingers. He stood absolutely still, but shuddered as she trailed her fingertips down his well-formed pectorals, gooseflesh rising quickly along his skin, and was very surprised that she was so…handsy. His own nipple, the same exact peach shade of her own, stiffened as she leaned in to get a better look.

He felt, more than heard, her murmur to herself, “Well, would you look at that.” Before stepping away from him with her own smile.

“Okay!” Sakura chirped, zipping up her vest without doing her chest bindings, “That wasn’t so bad! There’s only one more left!”

Sakutaro raked a hand through his hair, “Yeah, that wasn’t bad at all. Next is the one where the groin meets the pelvis, right?”

Sakura hummed in response, her slim hands already hiking up her black, civilian skirt to reveal black lace panties.

“Trying to impress someone?” He asked slyly, relishing in the blush that spread across the bridge of her nose as she lifted her head—just like him.

“How did you—“ She trailed off at his knowing stare and huffed, “Right. You’re me, I’m you.”

Unbuckling his pants, and sliding them down his legs, Sakutaro took a moment to be mortified. He just met her and he was practically naked! This was so weird!

Standing there with his pants around his ankles, and rolling his black boxer briefs as high as they could go, Sakutoro was quick to curse Inomatsu.

Sakura chuckled, “Black. How sensible. Trying to look cool for someone?”

Sakutoro scoffed as he straightened, “As if she’d ever let me get this far.”

Sakura shrugged as she lifted a glowing hand to her inner thigh, “She’s missing out, then.”

Crouching down in front of her, the glow of her medical ninjutsu illuminating the sharp contours of his face, Sakutaro smirked, “So is he.”

Using the light emitted by medical ninjutsu to find that elusive birthmark in the shape of a stupid flower on her inner thigh wasn’t much better than using the light in the closet, and Sakutaro cursed.

“Well, I can’t see anything,” He said as he rose to his full height gracefully, “I’ll take your word for it then.”

But Sakura had a frown on her pretty face and he didn’t like it, it was like he was upset.

“Hey,” Placing his hand on her shoulder, Sakura looked at him from below her lashes, “What’s wrong?”

Sakutaro’s brow furrowed when her eyes refused to focus on his face, and blinked when they suddenly did just that.

“Aren’t you the least bit curious?” She asked, teeth worrying her bottom lip familiarly,

“Curious?” He repeated, not sure what she was asking of him. He was curious about many things, like why he was staring at himself as a woman.

“Yes.” Sakura whispered, eyes lighting up as something bloomed in her mind, “Aren’t you curious about how perfection and accuracy travels through dimensions? Are we exact replicas of each other, save for—well, you know—or do we have something the other doesn’t? Can we tell by facial expression what the other is thinking? Do we have the same tics? Do we like the same things?”

He didn’t say anything, but she was breathless as she barreled on because she already knew.

“If-If this turns out to be true, and-and we are what we think, then I know you and I know I’m right. You want to know as much as I do.”

Scrubbing his hand down his face, Sakutaro cursed Sakura because she was right. The scientific anomaly of having two people with exact DNA was a treat too tempting to ignore; no two person’s DNA was the same, not even identical twins, so to see two people not cut from the same cloth but the cloth itself was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Sakutaro didn’t even have to say anything, she knew his response. He nearly flinched when her cold hands found his own, the soothing feel of her medical chakra coaxing his own out of his pores. Her fingers entwined with his own, palms resting against each other as the glow of their hands grew stronger. It was a peculiar sensation having someone’s chakra blend completely and seamlessly with your own; if Sakutaro could describe it, it’d feel like home.

“Will you two hurry up in there?!”

Glancing at the muffled voice coming from the other side of the door, the pair nodded at each other.

“We can explore and theorize later.” Sakura said, excitement showing through her guise of clinical detachment, “For now, feel and confirm.”

Sakutaro had a split second to utter a dumbfounded “wha?” before she grabbed his hand and placed it on her right inner thigh. His hand instantly froze, eyes glued to her flushed face, her glare making his heart beat a steady drum in his chest.

“C’mon, Sakutaro,” Sakura grunted, a very unlady-like sound for someone with a man’s hand on her thigh. And oh, did he just think that? “You know where it is, just touch it and see if it’s there.”

Swallowing the nervous lump in his throat, Sakutaro’s hand eased gently up her thigh, grateful that her skirt was bunched up to her waist, it was already awkward enough that he had to crouch down to reach her, what if he’d had to hoist her into his arms?

He’d probably die from all the blood rushing to his head.

The taut, iron muscles beneath his calloused fingertips quivered as he felt around and he was awed by how silky her skin felt as juxtaposed by her monstrous strength. She was deceptively frail and delicate looking—a berserker with petal pink hair and bottle green eyes. All she’d need was Naruko’s pig tails and she’d be the emasculators of all emasculators.

Well, Sakutaro decided, if he was going to be a woman—he’d want to be her. He couldn’t quite wait for the chance to spar with her.

“Sakutaro,” Sakura whined, and oh she shouldn’t be saying his name like that, not her. He was still a man, even if they were one in the same, and his own leg twitched in response. “What are you doing? Hurry up!”

Nodding more to himself than to her nagging, Sakutaro ignored his impulsive, primal desires to run his hands over such soft, feminine skin and his fingers made a beeline towards where he knew that stupid little birthmark would be.

Spreading her legs even further apart with a nudge of his knee (yes, it was that up in there), Sakutaro ignored Sakura’s gasp in favor of probing deeper. When he reached the junction of where her thigh met her pelvis, he gently extended his long middle finger to feel around the smoothness for the slightly raised skin in the shape of a lotus flower. Finding it, Sakutaro ignored Sakura’s deep puffs of air against his neck in favor of tracing the design to confirm its shape—its petals extending slightly across her labia and surrounding thigh, and he hesitated when he accidentally brushed upon a certain wetness and heat.

Freezing when Sakura let out a low mewl, he became emboldened by her thighs clenching around his hand and he tentatively brushed his calloused fingertips against her again, boldly circling her skin with a featherlight touch.

She rocked against him, and Sakutaro shut his eyes against the heat collecting deep in his groin. What was this? Was this wrong? How did it get to this?

Just when he was about to take the literal plunge, Sakura shoved him into the shelves and bottles of window cleaner toppled onto the dusty floor.

“Okay,” She stood there panting, her unbound breasts heaving beneath her vest. Cheeks flushed, lips parted and eyes darkened by lust, Sakutaro thought her the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “You found it. My turn.”

Excuse you, Sasuka who?!

His hips jerked when she toyed with the elastic waistband of his boxers, and Sakutaro buried his face in her hair. Her hair that smelled like vanilla and passion fruit—he smiled, how fitting. Large hands trailing down her sides to rest on her unbelievably small waist, he gripped the fabric of her shirt tightly, straining against the desire to buck into her hand. He was so painfully aware of her already, and this was—this was…he didn’t have a word for it.

Sakutaro hissed when her small, soft hand plunged into his underwear—the side of her palm barely skimming the side of his hardened length as she gently, if not curiously, ran her fingers over the smooth skin of where his own thigh met his pelvis. He, like herself, preferred to be clean shaven—and wasn’t that a given for them? He liked what she liked, she liked what he liked.

His own lotus flower birthmark wasn’t as deep as hers had been, by virtue of being a man, and she found it quickly. But his foot still jerked into a collapsed bottle of detergent when her fingers lightly trailed over the raised skin that overlapped the sensitive skin of his tightened sack. He softly groaned her name into her hair, voice deepened by desire, and he felt her shudder against him.

Sakutaro had never had woman touch him like she was, doing so much by doing so little, and it figured that the one to do so would be himself. Sakura would know that he liked to be teased, just as he knew she’d like the same.

But Sakutaro hadn’t indulged himself in months, and if Sakura kept going, things would be messy and awkward, so he gently eased her away and she mutely pulled her hand from his underwear. She smiled at him sweetly before adjusting her clothing as he did the same, willing his frantically beating heart to slow down and blood pooled below to resume normal activity.

Once they were dressed adequately enough to conceal their experimental activities in the supply closet—of all locations, Inomatsu would be proud—the pair looked at each other with silent understanding and promise.

“You are me.” Sakura whispered, her fingers reaching to trail softly down his cheek.

“I am you.” Sakutaro replied, his hands tucking a strand of long, pale pink hair behind her ear.

And when they smiled at each other, it was like looking in the mirror and coming home.

#haruno sakura #sakura haruno #male sakura haruno

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fanfictrashdump · 4 years ago

Text

Universe in a Jar, 4 - Phase 4 fic

Recap: Some days ago, I reblogged this post about the magical trio. And then my brain went off on a monumental tangent and, I wrote Universe in a Jar.

Characters: Stephen Strange, Loki, Wanda Maximoff, Wong, OC

Rating: T?

Warnings: Language! Mentions of sexual encounters, sarcasm, terrible storytelling, and typos prob.

Summary: Baby-sitting beings arguably more powerful than him goes awry for Doctor Strange. He knows one person who can possibly keep them isolated and out of trouble. Well, he knew someone who could… he hasn’t seen them in decades and for stupid reasons.

Previous Chapter

Persephone stepped lively out of the portal and gave Wong one last haphazard wave before dropping her book hoard onto the kitchen table. Wanda didn't even look over her shoulder from the pot of oatmeal she was stirring at the sound, despite the fact Stephen started slightly at the booming thud. Seph threw herself into one of the wooden chairs, cross-legged, only to find that she was hovering slightly above the seat as the cloak fluttered around her. After a gentle stroke of the fabric, she grabbed the leather-bound tome at the top of the pile and opened it to the first page.

Wanda gave a yawn and started ladling oatmeal into bowls. "What did Wong say?"

"Not much. Just that Stephen was an unobservant idiot," Seph quipped back, turning the page, devouring the words on the page as if they were to be taken away from her at any second.

"So, nothing new, then?" The two exchanged a smile, but Seph remained silent.

Stephen made an offended noise like a strangled scoff. "I am still standing here." He threw himself into another chair with an undignified pout, only to have Seph blindly pat his hand. "That is in Sumerian. How are you even reading it?"

That comment was enough for her to raise her eyes up at the surly Sorcerer with a question in her eyes. "What?" She stared at the page for a long time before humming acknowledgment. "Hm. I guess you're right." She shrugged and continued her reading, leaving Stephen to make an exasperated noise.

"How can you read it?"

She scrunched her nose. "I don't know. I just can."

Wanda flicked her hands and all the books floated up above their heads. "Food first, reading after." Seph stared at the surface of the oatmeal with a certain hesitation. "I asked Stephen how to make it."

The hesitation on her face turned sheepish at the clarification. "Oh. Thanks, Wanda."

"You're welcome. I need to keep myself occupied and I feel bad for imposing on you like this," she replied, sitting down with her own bowl at Seph's other side after sliding one toward Stephen.

"You're not imposing. I should probably get out a little more, as it is." She smiled, stirring her breakfast absently. Hazel eyes cut briefly sideways, watching Stephen shovel a spoonful of hot cereal into his mouth. He did a double-take when he caught her gaze briefly and smiled before giving her the smallest of nods, unbeknownst to the other occupant. A spoonful of her own promptly went into her mouth, leaving her to determine whether she was going to be able to finish this bowl. While it was a little on the sweet side, it wasn't eliciting the same headache-y response other attempts at food had done. "Is Loki still asleep?"

"Pretending to be," Wanda responded. "I don't think he actually sleeps this much, but he likes keeping to himself in the mornings. Why?"

"He asked to see the flowering greenhouse. I was going to take him for the early blooms."

"That's sweet. He's certainly a contradiction, isn't he?" Wanda looked like she had more to say, but opted to look between Stephen and Persephone with an inquisitive eye.

Stephen scoffed. "Not the word I'd use."

"That's because you're salty. That is not his fault, Steve."

"I'm not salty–" Both women leveled a disbelieving stare at him. "–I just wonder what he has to do for you two to see he's trouble."

Seph put down her spoon and leaned against the table. "So, you're upset we think he's a good person even if he hasn't lived a perfect life while simultaneously being annoyed at you for making mistakes, even when you've lived your life in what you perceive to be utter perfection?"

Stephen shifted in his seat, his shoulders tightening in on themselves with discomfort. He avoided her gaze as he pushed oatmeal around his bowl, silent.

"Shit, you're good," Wanda muttered, smiling into her coffee.

Pushing another spoonful into her mouth, she reached out to him, again. This time her hand lingered on his and she continued her breakfast eating with her non-dominant hand. After a few extra minutes of silence, steps thudded down the old, creaky staircase and Loki swept into the kitchen like a hungry storm. He walked around the table, stopping to press a kiss on Persephone's crown, on his way to the stove.

Stephen made to slip his hand away at the gesture, only to find that 1. Seph tightened her hand around his, and 2. he actually couldn't will his hand to move, despite his desire. A cursory look around to room showed him that Loki was still dealing at the stove and Seph had managed to fish her book down and propped it to float at eye level while she ate. Wanda was the only one smiling to herself, looking up only when Stephen's glare was too heavy to ignore. He mouthed an irate stop it only to have her shrug like nothing was the matter.

Loki took his seat on his other side, glancing around the table with an impish grin. "Oh, are we holding hands, today?" He grasped Stephen's other hand, paying no mind to the spoon in it, and tucked into his own breakfast. "I can't say we've ever held hands, darling. A shame, considering we've held pretty much everything else of each other's, haven't we, Sorcerer?"

The man in question stiffened, eyes falling closed with a heavy sigh. Wanda and Seph looked up from their tasks, and at each other, before turning back at them with curiosity. "I have to–your carrots are overdue…" he muttered quietly, pushing his chair back and finding he could move at will, once more. He fled the kitchen as quickly as he could.

Seph departed from her text to glare across the table. "Loki–"

He waved her serious tone away. "It's only sex. There is no reason to be so touchy. Truly."

"He doesn't like being reminded of mistakes."

Loki laughed, hand over heart in mock offense. "Ouch, kitten. Low blow."

She rolled her eyes. "Just… there's enough tension in this house, as it is. Don't antagonize him, please."

"I make no promises," he retorted with a wolfish grin before taking a spoonful of porridge. "What have I missed? What's all this?" He gestured the floating books and the cloak wrapped around her.

"I could show you if I had Stephen's slin–" Loki twisted his hand and produced the ring out of thin air. "Is that why you were holding his hand?" Loki shrugged, but smiled, nonetheless, tossing the ring in the air. Seph caught it easily and slipped it around her fingers. The walls lit up in bright sigils for Loki to peruse.

"Quantum magics. How pedestrian."

"Ass." She smiled to herself and pulled the ring off, pinning it in the waistband of her pajamas.

"Oh." He sounded more amused this time around. "Now this. This I can get behind." He watched curiously as the sigils sizzled and settled into the fabric of reality. "Asgardian, Vanir, Jotunn, Celtic, Elemental, Chaos, Eldritch–how worried are you about your safety, pet?" He pondered over a bite of breakfast. "Or is it a linguistic error?"

Wanda frowned. "Linguistics?"

"Security for safety." He tilted his head and fluttered his fingers, symbols rearranging themselves in the ether. "You longed so hard for a place to feel at home, secure, that you essentially made yourself a fortress. Fascinating."

"I'm glad my emotional trauma makes for an interesting study."

"Says the woman who just psychoanalyzed the most annoying man on Earth into silence," Wanda teased, standing with her empty bowl and mug and placing them into the dishwasher.

"I can't help it. I've been doing it all my life. If figuring out Stephen Strange to save him from himself paid dividends, I'd be a fucking millionaire by now."

"Nice to know the conversation is still on me," Stephen quipped as he dropped a basket of carrots on the table, dirt caked on his arms and smudged on his face. "And maybe if you'd gone into a better specialty, you'd be a millionaire."

"Aww, but who would oversee your mandated psych hold when you finally crack under the weight of your own expectations?" She flashed him a saccharine smile that made the corners of her eyes crinkle.

Despite Stephen's best efforts to remain stone-faced, he smirked. "Well, you got me there, Peep." He glanced at Loki. "My ring."

The Asgardian smirked. "I do not have it, Strange."

Persephone whistled, holding his sling ring aloft while she turned a page with her other hand. Stephen reached to retrieve his ring. Seph did not release it immediately. Instead, she slid a scrap of paper to hold her place and looked up at him. "You want some help? Gathering my crops or do you have some weird, period movie-style brooding to do in the fields?" He nodded. "OK. You stay here, buddy." With gentle hands, she coaxed a reluctant cloak off of her shoulders, only able to shrug it off with the promise that she'd be back later.

Pulling on her boots at the door, she followed Stephen onto the sun-dappled green fenced-in with chicken wire. They kneeled in neighboring rows and worked silently for a while, stopping every so often to straighten their backs and stretch. It was a companionable silence that fell between them, only the sound of earthmoving and vegetables being tossed into large baskets cutting through their thoughts.

"You know, Loki had already mentioned it to me."

Stephen frowned, loosening the dirt around a particularly stubborn carrot. "Mentioned what?"

"That you two had a fling."

He snorted. "Fling is a strong word for what we did, Peep."

"Quickie hate sex, then. I was being delicate." She smirked. "Unlike you and Mischief."

"Is there a point to this conversation? Other than reminding me of my poor judgment."

"You don't have to feel awkward about who you sleep with, Stephen."

"I don't feel awkward that I slept with him. I feel awkward that it was a topic of discussion at breakfast. And why were you talking about that with him, anyway?"

"He was curious if we had ever hooked up. Something or other about collecting a full set."

He breathed in, stretching his neck side to side to disguise the little bubble of irritation that rose within him. "Oh, so you slept with him?"

It was her turn to laugh. "Fuck no. My life is as complicated as I want it right now. Sex with a demigod sounds like everything I don't need. Why? Was he any good? Is this a Yelp review?"

"I am not talking to you about this."

"Oh, come on! We've told each other worse!"

"Exactly! I still can't the image of Zach Curtis sobbing while they wheeled him off to the hospital. It's been twenty-six years!"

Seph hummed, lost in thought. "Yeah, that was a pretty bad day."

"Aggressive technique. Poor kid was in agony for a month."

"He kept saying 'harder'! I got annoyed," she defended vehemently, throwing a clod of dirt in his direction. "I bet Loki would like that."

"He would not," he riposted, automatically, only catching himself after the fact when she gasped. "Fuck. Not another word. Besides, you punched Zach in the balls so hard you gave him torsion. No one wants that."

"Is he secretly very gentle and sappy? Needs to be nurtured? Come on, give me something!" He remained quiet, stacking his accumulated carrots in the basket before digging his hands back to the earth. "You're no fun."

After a long while, he mumbled. "If you want to know, jump him yourself."

She shrugged. "Maybe I will."

"Fine. Go right ahead." Despite the message, his tone sounded unconvinced.

Persephone piled the last of her carrots into her basket, stood, and dusted off her knees. She hefted the basket and balanced it on her cocked hip. "Why are you even doing this by hand? Don't you have some impressive universe-bending powers?"

"It's soothing. And quiet," he shot her a look, "most of the time."'

"What do you need to be soothed about?"

He didn't turn his eyes away from the clod of dirt he was breaking apart. "I spent five years inside the Soul Stone. Aware that time had passed but with no way to understand why. Worried out of my mind for the people with me and the people outside. Worried my plan would fall through and we'd be stuck there forever. Half the Universe, stuck there forever because I could not make our one chance come through. I have a few things."

With a sigh, she put the basket down beside his and sat cross-legged between the rows. "I'm sorry. I was being a brat."

"It's not your fault, Seph. You didn't bring Thanos." He shot her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Managing my feelings isn't your job, anymore."

"It never was my job, Stephen. I did it because I cared. I still do."

He looked over, deadpan. "You tried to kill me."

"Yes! I was upset and heartbroken and I still couldn't get over the fact that I cared for you. And despite the fact that I tried to kill you, you still checked up on me because I had a nightmare." She sighed. "Let's face it. We're stuck with each other. No matter how far we try to run, we always come back to each other."

With a heavy sigh, Stephen sat back onto the dirt, folding his legs up so he could rest his arms on his knees. When he looked up, Persephone recognized a familiar sort of ache in his eyes. It was the same pain whenever they were going in for a test he didn't feel prepared for, or his first ER rotation where barely had a chance to think before reacting.

"I-I don't know what I'm doing, Seph. I'm supposed to be in charge of protecting reality and I haven't got a goddamn clue wha–" He sighed, hanging his head.

One of her hands grasped at his, and his head snapped back up. The vision of his shaking digits in hers had him pulling back. Her own, faster hands closed around his before he could slip away.

"Don't do that, Stephen." She smiled. "You can probably still suture faster than I can."

Something like a smile tugged at the very corner of his mouth. "Probably. You were always a slowpoke."

She rolled her eyes, though an affectionate squeeze went through his hand. "We're going to figure it out, Stephen. I promise."

"You'll help me?"

"Of course. Lord knows you have no authority over those two. At least they listen to me."

"Thanks, Peep." Sincerity rang clear in his words.

"You're welcome, hon." He smiled, then, at the long-forgotten term of endearment. "Come on, before Loki eats me out of house and home. Maybe I can get a vegetable in him," she added easily, gesturing the carrots.

#marvel #mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu phase 4 #doctor strange #stephen strange #loki mcu #wanda maximoff #wong mcu #multiverse #marvel phase four #original character #stephen just doing farm things to avoid the others #cloak being clingy #universe in a jar

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