#There's so much click bait everywhere already | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mamamittens · 2 years

Text

Naughty Cause I've Never Been Nice (+18)

Day #6 of December Event 2022

Fandom: One Piece

Ship: LawXKirin(OC)XReiji(OC)

Warnings: Tipsy drunk Law (still mostly sober), fingering, teasing, dirty talk, praise kink, light degradation, unsafe sex, and implied threesome ending.

Word Count: 2,093

@cebwrites

Let me know if something needs tweaking, I might be coming down with a cold and wanted to get this out before I got wonky lol

It happens upon occasion that Law wonders what exactly he did in a past life to deserve the bullshit of his current life. It had to be fucking awful. Horrendous. Positively unforgivable. There wasn’t really many other explanations to be had for this shit.

At the very least, Law hadn’t managed to drink nearly enough eggnog to put up with his partner’s shit.

“Oh-Ho-Ho-Ho! Have you been naughty or nice~?” Six-inch heels clicked across the floor as Kirin teased Bepo, slinging an arm over the mink’s shoulder. Bepo looked uncertain and almost afraid, panicking like he thought Kirin was actually Santa Clause and not just his usual jackass self in fishnets and a red mini dress with a fur trim. A dress that, Law noticed, bunched up at his waist just enough that his ass was barely covered.

“A-Ah—I-I’ve t-tried?” Bepo managed to stutter, looking towards Law for emotional support only to find a brick wall of irritation. “I-I’m s-so-sorry! EEEP!” Bepo ran across the room, removing himself as a distraction for Kirin to tease. Ever the opportunist, Kirin simply redirected his attention to someone else, swaggering towards another victim instead.

Aside from a saucy turn to show off his ass in the faux-Santa dress, Kirin had been ignoring him all night.

And Law has had quite enough of that shit.

Law slammed down the last of his heavily spiked eggnog, ignoring the burn in his throat that felt more like high grade moonshine than store bought booze.

Then, without any ceremony, Law stormed over and yanked on Kirin’s ear. Dragging the precocious shit to the hall and slamming him into the wall a bit harder than he intended.

“You.” Law hissed, face hot from the fake fur of his Santa suit brushing his chin… and probably too much eggnog. Kirin grinned, all teeth and self-satisfaction, gold eyes gleaming.

“Me.” He purred, tipping his chin down mockingly. Law nearly snarled, suddenly aware that his baggy pants weren’t as loose fitting as they were an hour ago.

He was pissed about something.

Law knows he was… fuck if he could remember with the ridiculous amount of heat and peppermint eggnog pouring off of Kirin’s body.

Was it the dress? It was the dress, right? Too damn tight everywhere to the point it rode up his thighs. Fake fur covering Kirin’s tits—see how smug that ass would be if Law could tweak them. Maybe it was the heels, already overkill as it was, paired with the fishnet stockings.

More than anything though, it was probably the absolute certainty that Kirin wasn’t wearing anything under the dress at all, having flashed him just before the party started with his tight ass and bare pussy. Stockings conveniently cut around the areas Law wanted to fuck bent over the nearest flat surface.

“The fuck are you asking Bepo about being naughty or nice for when we both know damn well you top that list?” Law hissed finally.

Kirin chuckled and leaned down.

“Are you included on that list, Captain?” Kirin asked coyly.

“Well someone is enjoying the spiked eggnog.” A low voice murmured behind them. Law hissed like a startled cat and whirled around, only to find it was just Reiji. The man grinned, light eyes narrowed in amusement. “Don’t mind me. I’m just enjoying the view.” Reiji laughed softly, shuffling by them with a hard swat to both their asses. Law felt his hand twitch to rearrange something painful but it was already too late. Reiji had accomplished his goal of tweaking Law’s nose and had left Kirin to take the fall.

A bait Law happily took anyway. Reiji would get it later though.

Abruptly, Law gripped the fake fur trim over Kirin’s chest and yanked hard, slamming their lips together in a harsh kiss that tasted of spiked eggnog and frustration.

“You wish.” Law spat, his tongue slipping in deeper as he pinned Kirin to the wall, grinding his erection against Kirin’s thigh. “Only the nice list gets to top. Naughty gets fucked over the dresser.”

Kirin had the audacity to laugh but Law let him have the moment. He’d soon be laughing a lot less after Law started riding his ass hard.

“You think you’re on the nice list?” Kirin laughed but allowed Law to yank him towards their room by his belt.

“Keep it up and the only thing you’re getting for Christmas is being edged.” Law warned him in a low voice. Even through the taut pull on Kirin’s belt, Law could feel the hard shudder. “You’d fucking like that, wouldn’t you? Long as I called you pretty and twisted your nipples, you’d ride the edge until I said so… isn’t that right, pretty?” Kirin sucked in a sharp breath as Law reached their room.

“…Yes, Captain~” Kirin breathed, clearly excited with the electric atmosphere that crowded the bedroom. Law spun Kirin around and slammed him onto the bed. As expected, the mere act of bending over exposed Kirin completely.

Law kicked aside Kirin’s heels and slipped two fingers in, unsurprised to find it tight but soaked. Law dug his fingertips into Kirin’s soft walls hard, pulling a high whine from the man as he arched his spine.

“Is this what you wanted when you dressed like a slut?” Law growled, steadily working Kirin up with one hand.

“Yeah, Captain~ Mm-more~!” Kirin sighed, clutching the bedspread in his hands. Law braced himself over Kirin’s back, fingers drenched as he stretched them wide apart.

“Oh? So you’ll be perfectly happy with just this? You should have said you liked my hand more than my cock, Kirin.” Law purred. Kirin gasped, clenching down on Law as he looked back a little frantic.

“N-No!” Law yanked out his hand, arousal dripping onto the floor and soaking Kirin’s thighs.

“So you don’t want my hand either? Tch, I guess I’ll just go back to the party then…” Law pulled back, licking his soaked hand like his cock wasn’t throbbing against the cheap Santa pants.

“Law~!” Kirin groaned, reaching back for him with a hungry stare aimed firmly at his crotch. “I want you, please baby!” Kirin whined, receiving a hard smack to his exposed ass for the trouble.

Law pulled up one leg and set it on the bed before sinking his fingers back into Kirin’s pussy until he hit his knuckles. Stroking the pinned leg, Law started a furious pace, stretching and teasing until his whole hand was soaked.

“You’ve got me right now, pretty. What more could you need? Isn’t this good enough?” Law teased, leaning further against Kirin until his erection was pressed against Kirin’s thigh. “Show me you can be good and I’ll let you cum. Doesn’t that sound fair to you, pretty slut?” Kirin panted and cried out into the bedspread, trembling beneath Law as he got worked up fast.

“So fucking wet…”

“Look at how well your pretty pussy takes it?”

“Ah-ah! You haven’t earned that yet. I can feel you squeeze me, knock it off.” Law warned despite not slowing down or going any easier on Kirin. The wet smacks from his dripping pussy made Law dizzy with want, but he had a plan. To what end, Law didn’t remember, but the plan itself was perfect in Law’s eyes.

“L-Law~ I-I’mmmmmmm~!” Kirin cried out, trembling as he tried to hold back.

Law ripped away his hand and yanked down his pants, slamming into the hilt as Kirin let out a startled moan, just barely managing to not cum.

“Oh, what a good boy you are.” Law cooed, pressing down onto Kirin’s back as he reached under the other man. His hands found the faux fur and pulled it down enough to grasp his chest. Kirin clenched down on Law like a vice as he started teasing his nipples. “So close but so eager to be good for me. Keep holding on for me, pretty.” Law groaned, staying perfectly still as he ruthlessly exploited Kirin’s weakness. Kissing the exposed skin of his shoulder blades as he tweaked and twisted. Enjoying the steady clenching on his unmoving cock.

“I-I wanna be so fucking good for you~ P-Please le-let me cum!” Kirin stuttered, thighs shaking under Law’s steady pressure. Law hummed, like he was thinking about it.

“Hmmm… I’m not so sure you deserve it yet. Dressing like a slut tonight. Trying to tease me. Oh, but you do sound so pretty begging.” Law considered, whispering against Kirin’s skin. “How about this? You can cum when I do. And not a fucking second before me.”

Law pulled back his hips and slammed into Kirin’s ass, setting a hard pace with his hands still toying with his nipples. Kirin’s body bucked under Law as he cried out, babbling pretty compliments to goad Law into cumming faster.

“S-So good! Oh! Shit L-Law you feel so fucking good, fuck me harder~!” Kirin groaned, moaning when Law obliged. Railing into Kirin’s pinned body as he gripped his wrists above their heads. “Y-Yes, I-I’m so fucking close let me have it! Cum, please!”

Law pressed as deep into Kirin’s body as he could and fell still. Leaning down a bit further to whisper into Kirin’s ear.

“No.” Kirin’s whole body shuddered as he cried out in denial.

“No?! S-Shit L-Law please!” Kirin groaned, squirming under his body as if he could make Law continue fucking him.

“No.” Law muttered, body hot in his stupid Santa suit as he clenched his teeth against the vice grip Kirin’s pussy had on his cock. “It would serve you right to just sit like this for the rest of the night. Maybe then you’d remember to behave.”

Kirin huffed, clenching down on Law’s cock deliberately.

“I need you! F-Fuck Law, please fuck me I need it so bad~! I-I wore it for you p-please enjoy it—it was for you!” Kirin confessed deliriously.

Law removed himself entirely, ripping off his jacket and shirt as Kirin scrambled to stand. Hopping onto the bed himself, Law grinned and pat his lap, right next to his wet cock.

“You want it so bad, huh? Then sit on Santa’s lap and take it, darling” Law invited. Kirin didn’t hesitate for long, throwing his leg over Law’s lap and damn near impaling himself on Law’s cock.

And then the needy slut started bouncing, Law’s hands anchoring on his hips as he tried to steady the desperate rhythm. Glancing up at Kirin’s red face and closed eyes, Law grinned.

And took a sensitive nipple between his teeth. Instantly, Kirin moaned loudly. Shuddering on Law’s lap as he came hard.

“O-Ooooh~! L-aaaahhhnnn~!”

Law thoughtfully slapped a still quivering thigh.

“I didn’t say you could stop, darlin'. Keep going.” Law growled, nipping at Kirin’s chest. Shaking and dizzy, Kirin did his best to follow directions. Sloppily slamming his soaked pussy onto Law’s cock. Crying and moaning as he started getting wound up all over again.

“Cum! P-Please, Law! C-Cum for me!” Kirin whispered desperately as he shook on Law’s cock again. Slowly, gold eyes fixed on his own, Kirin reached up and grasped Law’s neck.

Slowly enough that Law could stop him easily.

Instead, Law allowed himself to be pushed down onto the bed, Kirin still bouncing on his dick. Fingers tightened as the tension built up in Law’s thighs. His breathing grew more labored.

“Harder, darling.” Law hissed and Kirin squeezed. Law’s cry was cut off and garbled as he came, Kirin’s pussy throttling his cock almost as hard. Kirin kissed him, still choking Law as he moaned into his open mouth.

Trembling, Law took shuddering gasps as he was released. Muscles boneless as he panted for air. Still reeling from his orgasm, Kirin rocking on his lap as he rode out his own high.

After another long moment, Kirin collapsed on Law’s chest with a gasp. A cold finger trailed up his cock still in Kirin’s pussy.

“Aww, are you all tuckered out or are you ready for another playmate?” Law opened his eyes and found Reiji staring down at them with a smug expression. “Santa should know to share his toys, after all.”

Kirin whined but Law didn’t miss the harsh squeeze on his cock.

Looks like all three of them were calling it early. At least now Law could get back at Reiji with an added bonus of the post-nut clarity bringing an additional air of soberness to Law’s head. Law grinned, reaching down to grip Kirin’s ass cheeks and spread them.

“Can’t leave such a pretty stocking empty, now can we?” Law mused.

#one piece smut #trafalgar law smut #trafalgar law x oc #poly relationship #Hope you don't mind he snuck in at the end there #and that it's not terribly long #imma post before I overthink again lol

12 notes · View notes

iviarellereads · 1 month

Text

The Dragon Reborn, Chapter 26 - Behind a Lock

(THIS PROJECT IS SPOILER FREE! No spoilers past the chapter you click on. Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Wheel of Time, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(Silhouettes icon) In which someone laid it on a bit thick, but who?

PERSPECTIVE: Egwene walks back along the hall, having dismissed some of the doors as unoccupied, but wondering if the silver and white woman might have hidden in one, but they all prove empty, and some have mouse tracks in the dust on the floor. There are more empty rooms than occupied ones in Accepted quarters.

Elayne and Nynaeve catch up, wondering where Else went. Egg says she thought she was right on top of her, but ran into someone else, then turned her back for one second, and the woman was gone. Nyn says they'd better go see what's in that storeroom before Else has the chance to tell the wrong person about it.

Egg is glad not to see the silver and white woman as they go, then chides herself for seeing Black Ajah everywhere. They find the storeroom, but there's no light inside, so Egg and El have to channel light balls to see by. The door they're looking for has a new lock and chain on it. Egg touches it, and does something (though she's not sure what) to the metal, making it fragile.(1)

The storeroom does indeed contain the belongings of the sisters who abandoned the Tower, but there's not much in common between them... except that every one has a map, a book, or a scrap of paper mentioning Tear. Nyn says it's got to be bait.(2)

El asks what they do now, and Egg says maybe they'll know after she sleeps with the stone ring.

Nynaeve looked at her, silent and expressionless, then chose out a dark skirt that seemed not to have too many holes and rips, and began bundling in it the things they had found. “For now,” she said, “we will take this back to my room and hide it. I think we just have time, if we don’t want to be late to the kitchens.” Late, Egwene thought. The longer she held the ring through her pouch, the greater the urgency she felt. We’re already a step behind, but maybe we won’t be too late.

=====

(1) The Seanchan established that Egg had an earth-element affinity, much stronger than usual in women. (2) If Nyn is right, then Lanfear's reveal makes somewhat more sense. But, why would she want them to go to Tear? Isn't that where Rand's headed, to confirm the prophecies? But why would Lanfear want him to have potentially more support and protection? Could Nyn's assumption be wrong?

#wheel of time #wot #the wheel of time #twot #the dragon reborn #tdr #wot silhouettes icon #egwene al'vere #elayne trakand #nynaeve al'meara

0 notes

jadequeen88 · 4 years

Text

Incel Tomura

I couldn’t think of a good title for this, so... I just went with something real blunt. Anyway, this was inspired by a friend and how she actually met her IRL boyfriend.

PAIRING: Incel!Shigaraki x egirl!reader

TW: face sitting, degradation, mommy kink, reader basically bullying Tomura (he deserves it)

3.2k~

AS ALWAYS MY FICS ARE STRICTLY 18+

“TCH!”

Tomura scoffed at the screen of his laptop. The Discord server he helped admin had gone to shit since he let that idiot Dabi loosen the requirements to join. It was one thing when Toga joined. He knew she was a decent gamer. But you? With those stereotypical cat-ear headsets, perfectly done make-up and short skirts? Please… He saw right through you. Just another fake ~uwu~ e-girl trying to pretend they knew what they were talking about.

It didn’t end with you being annoyingly informed in the gaming chat, either. You were always in the anime and manga chats, too… Suggesting different ones that there’s no way you actually enjoyed.

But the WORST part of you being in the server? Spamming the picture chat with selfies and outfit pics. No, it wasn’t against the guidelines and yes, you got lots of compliments (of course, you were clearly hot), but it made Tomura livid. Where there used to be pics of half-built PCs and screenshots of character upgrades, now there were endless pictures meant to tease and bait the guys in the server.

Today’s picture is what sent him completely over the edge. Your hair was put up in two messy space buns, signature pink cat-eared headset perched on your head. Your black, mesh top was straining against your tight, hot pink bra, barely hiding your cleavage and your slender neck was adorned with a chunky, black collar with a large, silver ring hanging from the front. The icing on the cake, though… the thing that broke him, was the face you were making. Eyes crossed, little pink tongue lolling past your perfect hot-pink lips, it was an obvious ahegao face. The caption read:

“New collar! Thank you for da gift @XxXknifey_wifeyXxX”

Followed by a bunch of annoying ass emojis.

Tomura shifted in his gaming chair, his growing bulge making his sweats tight. He gritted his teeth and opened his DMs…

******

You snickered as you opened your text chat with Dabi. Poor Tomura… He had no clue his friend was an old high school buddy of yours and sent screenshots every single time he bitched about your presence on the server. At first, it was just a couple of snide comments, but you quickly decided to turn it into a game. You’d add more emojis than you normally would, flirt shamelessly with Toga in the chat, and be very vocal with your opinions. Then it progressed with more and more selfies, pics showing off your new skirts, and pics of your pink, girly gaming setup. Today you pushed it with the ahegao face, you’ll admit. It was pretty out of character for you, but you couldn’t wait to hear about Tomura’s reaction from Dabi.

It was everything you hoped it would be:

Decay_666_

So can we give those bitches their own chat or what? Seriously, I’m sick of seeing their shit everywhere. Did you see her ahegao face selfie? This server was supposed to be for ACTUAL gamers, not fake e-girl sluts spamming the chat with their bullshit…

Cremation_Daddy

Lol, damn dude, calm down… we can make a separate chat. You’re the only one on the server complaining. Y/N really fucking you up that bad?

Decay_666_

Oh, fuck off… she’s just being an attention whore and it’s getting on my nerves.

Cremation_Daddy

Yeah, whatever you say. Prolly jerkin it to that selfie right now

You didn’t know why, but you kinda had a crush on the skinny loser. Knowing how worked up he’d get over the smallest things you did thrilled you. You wanted to know just how badly you affected him and today was the day you’d find out.

*****

Tomura heard a ping from his monitor alerting him to a new DM. expecting it to be Dabi giving him more shit, he scowled and clicked over to his Discord tab. When he saw that it was you DMing him, it was like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head. He could barely type he was so nervous.

Y/N

Hey :)

Decay_666_

Y/N

How did you like my new collar?

Tomura panicked. Had Dabi said something? There’s no way he’d do that. How did he even respond to that? He decided to feign ignorance.

Decay_666_

What collar?

Y/N

*image*

He audibly gasped. You sent him the selfie you’d posted in the chat earlier. Somehow, it was even hotter than the first time he’d seen it. Probably because you had sent it to him. You wanted to make sure he saw it. The thought alone made him painfully hard. He typed out a shaky response:

Decay_666_

Yeah… you look really pretty :)

He grimaced. He couldn’t think of anything clever when he was put on the spot like that. Plus, how long had it been since he’d spoken to a girl one on one? Much less a hot one? Never. That’s when.

Y/N

Aww, you’re so sweet :) wanna see it in person?

Now Tomura was wondering if he’d died and gone to heaven. Did she want to meet up? Wearing that fucking collar? There’s no way… He stared at the screen for a good ten minutes before another ping brought him back to reality.

Y/N

I’m free now if you are. Plus, there’s a new episode of *insert favorite anime* out and I didn’t wanna watch it alone.

Decay_666_

Yeah. Sure.

His response was almost uninterested but inside he was panicking. When was the last time he showered? How much time did he have to get ready? Did he even have any clean clothes? He leaped from his chair and ran to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Another ping rang out and he raced to check his DMs to see that you’d sent your address. To his surprise, you only lived a short walk from him. Another jolt of excitement shot through his spine as he quickly responded.

Decay_666_

Be over in 30 :)

He turned on the shower then started picking through his pile of clothes finding the ones that smelled the least offensive. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this nervous and excited at the same time.

*****

Tomura shifted from one foot to the other, nervously scratching at the side of his neck. He caught himself before the skin there broke and he ended up having to deal with a bloody neck on top of already being a nervous wreck. He’d only been standing outside your apartment for a minute or two, but it felt like an eternity. He kept checking his phone to distract himself. Just as he was starting to question if this had been a good idea, the door flung open.

His eyes widened and his mouth turned into a thin line. You answered the door in a fucking towel. He began opening and closing his mouth like a fish that had been plucked from the water. You giggled innocently like it was perfectly normal to answer the door nearly naked.

“You’re here a little earlier than I expected! I just got out of the shower. Come on in,” you moved to the side to give him room to walk through the door into your small apartment. You were sure to not move completely out of the way so he’d have to almost brush against your chest. You could feel him stiffen and hold his breath as he passed by.

This was going to be so much fun…

*****

Tomura’s dick had been painfully hard the moment he’d seen you in that towel. Luckily, when you’d gone into your bedroom to get dressed, he was able to position it in his waistband so he wouldn’t be pitching a tent in front of you. The thought of you noticing him popping a boner just by looking at you in a towel was mortifying.

However, what you decided to change into didn’t help his situation. Your baby pink terry cloth shorts would have shown the curve of your ass had it not been for the little row of ruffles around the bottom. Your tank top, the same baby pink color as your shorts, was pulled tight across your chest (holy shit, were you not wearing a bra?!). A fleeting glance at your chest proved to Tomura that you definitely were not wearing a bra.

“You can come on back,” you beckoned from the doorway of your bedroom, “I thought we’d be more comfortable in here…”

He gulped and rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans before nodding and rising to walk towards you. Your room was foreign to him. Decorated with all shades of pink and purple, soft, plush bedding, and a soft pink glow emanated from the LED strip lights that lined the walls. Tomura stood awkwardly, looking around for a chair to sit in when you flopped onto your bed and began pulling up the streaming app on your tv.

You looked up at him sweetly and patted the spot on the plush comforter next to you. “Come sit, Tomu! You don’t have to stand way over there. I don’t stink, ya know,” the wink you gave him made his knees buckle.

“Umm,” he chuckled nervously, “No, of course not. You, uhh… you smell…”

No, you were way too close. This was bad. There’s no way he would be able to string together a coherent thought, much less hold an actual conversation with you. You pout and lean in even closer to him.

“Tomuuuuu!” fuck, he hated that he loved that stupid nickname, “You think I smell?!”

“What?! N-no, not at all. I was trying to say that-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you tilted your head to the side offering up your neck for him to smell and he swears his eyes crossed as he tried to absorb what was happening.

“I even wore my new perfume! Go on, smell. Tell me what you think,” you smirk looking out of the corner of your eye.

Fuck.

You were teasing him, he knew you were, but his dick was so hard that he was completely at your mercy. He leaned in to take a tentative sniff and his eyes wandered lower. His breath hitched when he noticed the outline of your hardened nipples peeking through the thin material of your tank top. Before he knew what was happening, you turned your face forward and put your mouth next to his ear.

“Are you looking down my shirt, you pervert?” you purred. Tomura made some sort of incoherent noise and pulled away.

You laughed and pushed his shoulder playfully, “Geeze, I’m just kidding! You’re wound so tight.” you pause making a thoughtful face.

“Oh, I know how to help! Come on, over here,” you pulled him between your spread thighs and proceeded to rub his shoulders, working out all of the knots in his lean back.

After a few seconds, Tomura began to relax into your touch, slumping slightly and letting out a tiny sigh. He was deathly still the entire time you massaged him. He was terrified if he moved too much that his raging boner would free itself from his waistband. When your hands left his shoulders, he started to move away just to be pulled back into your lap. His head landed in your cleavage as your hands trailed down his chest.

“Hmm, so tense, Tomu,” you whispered into the crown of his hair, “Is my massage not working?”

He wanted to yell that of course he was tensed up. That his dick is the hardest it’s ever been in his life and if he doesn’t hold as still as possible, he’s scared he might start humping the air like a pathetic dog. Before he can answer, your hand trails down to the waistband of his jeans, and he freezes. The tips of your fingers brush across his leaking tip and Tomura lets out a low, needy moan before he can stop himself.

“Just what I thought,” you purred as you began to trail your fingers up and down the hard bulge in his jeans, “Pathetic. Look at you, so fucking hard for me. And all I did was rub your shoulders.” He wanted to defend himself, but all he could do was whine as his eyes rolled in the back of his head while you continued touching him through his jeans.

“And to think, I never thought you’d want anything to do with some fake bimbo like me. Because I only game and watch anime for attention, right?” you squeeze his cock through his jeans, causing him to yelp. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself, incel? Wanna tell me why your dick is this hard for me if I’m so annoying to you?”

The realization that Dabi had told you everything flitted through the back of his mind, but he didn’t have room in his brain right then to be mad at him. He had to do whatever he needed to do to keep you touching him.

“I, ahh... I’m s-sorry,” he stuttered pathetically. The front of his jeans was wet from your teasing and the denim was rubbing him raw through his thin boxers, “D-didn’t, fuck, didn’t mean it like… ahh, l-like th-that.”

You loved how easily you could wreck him. You pet his hair back from his sweaty brow as you cooed at him lovingly.

“You know,” you removed your hand from the front of his jeans and he whined from the lack of friction, “You really hurt my feelings, baby. I thought you were so cool and the whole time, behind my back, you said just mean things about me.”

He sat up and turned to face you. His pathetic, needy gaze shot straight to your core. The power you held made you drunk and you desperately wanted more.

“No, no no no…” he grabbed your hands and you realized how clammy they were, “I’m-I’m so sorry. Please! Please…”

“Hmm,” you studied him for a moment, “Well… There might be a way you could make me feel a little better.” you tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, “You were so mean to me.”

“Anything! Please! I-I’ll do anything for you!” desperation started creeping in, thinking you’d leave him hanging with no relief. Little did he know, you had no intention of letting him go any time soon. Your plush lips curled into a devious smile. A soft hand reached up cupping his jaw.

“What a good boy, Tomu,” a tremor passed through his body. You reached over to your nightstand and pulled out the collar you’d taken the selfie in.

“You know,” the collar danced between your painted nails, “This also came with a leash. I was thinking,” your lust-filled eyes meet his, “If you wanted to be a good boy for me… You’d let me see how pretty it looks around your neck.”

Tomura hesitated, his eyes rapidly moving between your eyes and the collar you held. After a moment of consideration, he nodded. You giggled and clapped your hands together excitedly leaping off the bed. You returned with a short, chain-link leash.

“Now,” you leaned in and fastened the collar around his neck. Your bodies were centimeters apart and Tomura thought he might pass out, “When you’re wearing your collar, you don’t call me Y/N,” you nudge his ear with your nose and whisper, “You call me ‘Mommy.’ Do you understand?” you feel him nod against your face.

“That’s not how good boys answer their Mommy. When you answer me, you say, ‘Yes Mommy’ or ‘No Mommy.’ Is that clear?”

“Y-yes… Mommy.”

“Mmm, what a good boy,” you placed a soft kiss on his neck and he let out the most delicious whimper. You hooked a finger through the ring on the front of the collar, “You’re gonna go sit in Mommy’s gaming chair and let her use you as a toy. Okay?”

Tomura’s head was spinning and he almost couldn’t answer until you jerked him by his collar, “Y-yes, Mommy. Please, please make me your toy.”

You stood and dragged him over to your chair and made him sit, “What a polite boy you are! Saying ‘please’ without being asked. If you keep that up, you just might get a reward,” his belt buckle rattled as you worked his jeans down his narrow hips.

A ragged breath escaped his chapped lips as you removed your tiny shorts revealing a black, lace thong. You straddled his lap, your dripping slit hovering a centimeter over the angry, leaking head of his cock. His hands shook as you placed them on your hips and slowly moved your thong to the side. Descending an inch at a time, only teasing his tip, was causing him to come undone underneath you.

“You’re already so close and I’ve only put the tip in. You better be a good boy and not come until I tell you to or you’re going to be punished,” you pushed another couple of inches inside and he nearly wept.

“I-I’m trying, M-mommy! I wanna be a good boy!”

“Mmm, I know, baby. You’re doing so,” another inch, “So…” and another, “Well.” you were fully seated on his cock now. Tomura knew he wouldn’t last. Your velvet walls were sucking him down harder than anything ever had before. It made his fleshlight feel like it was made of sandpaper. You had ruined him for anything else.

With a few rolls of your hips and some high, airy moans, he was about to bust. “Mommy! Mommy, please! I-I’m g-gonna…”

“Tomu,” your voice was authoritative now, “If you come in Mommy’s pussy, I’m going to make you clean it out with your tongue then I’m going to sit on your face until I come as many times as I want.” your hand wrapped around his throat and you started bouncing on his cock. Your filthy words and aggressive motions catapulted him into an orgasm.

“You bad, BAD boy,” a smack to his cheek broke off his moans, “You disobeyed me! Did you do that on purpose?” your hand around his neck flexes, “Are you just a dirty incel that wants Mommy to get mean with you? Answer, Tomu!”

“Yes, Mommy!”

“Tell Mommy what you are…”

“I-I’m a-a… dirty incel.”

“And what do you want?”

“W-want… want Mommy to b-be mean to me…”

You lift him by the collar and attach the leash. He’s thrown onto the bed and you waste no time hovering your dripping slit over his face.

“Now,” you jerk the leash, “Clean up your mess.”

Tomura knew he should be disgusted right now, but his dick was getting harder by the second. With each lick inside your sloppy hole, he shamelessly moaned against your skin. The vibrations were going straight to your clit, causing you to ride his face harder. This went on until you’d almost reached your peak.

“Oh, baby,” you’re making Mommy feel so, so good, “I-I’m gonna…”

Tomura grabbed your ass and moved you back and forth on his face as he sucked your clit into his mouth. Your orgasm hit hard and fast. You lifted your body giving him a moment to breathe before sitting back down, earning a startled mumble from him.

“Don’t think that’s all,” you laughed and humped his face, making his eyes roll into the back of his head, “Be a good boy and mommy might even let you come…”

Tomura only nodded as he began to eat you again like he was starved. Maybe all the stuff you posted in the Discord server wasn’t so annoying anymore...

#Shigaraki #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x you #bnha smut #tw // mommy kink #tw degradation #tw face sitting #jade writes smut

2K notes · View notes

tomurasprincess · 4 years

Note

quote #41 with dabi and prompt # 15 -hi it be raph and i’m dancing like a crazy rn,,, can’t wait to see what you come up with mari 💜

Pairing: Dabi x Reader Quote: Maybe I should leave you like this, that way anyone who wanted to use you could have a go with you. Would you like that? Word; Aphrodisiac Warnings: Noncon, aphrodisiac, drugging, fisting, anal sex, double penetration, overstimulation, multiple forced orgasms, bondage, yandere Note: OMG Raph, I am so sorry that this took forever to write but I knew I wanted to make it really good. Hopefully I succeeded...because this is certainly some fierce thirsty energy right here 🥵 And yes, there is some massive sequel bait at the end.

Prompt Masterlist

You stop your frenzied run through the back alleys of your patrol route in order to double over in pain, grabbing at your stomach as more cramps overtake you.

You don’t know what happened, only that you somehow got dosed with a powerful aphrodisiac that’s ravaging through your bloodstream. Your pupils are blown wide open, sweat is pouring down your body, and you can feel your pussy almost soaking through your hero suit pants. You know you have to get away, and quick, before anyone discovers your predicament.

And that was when the villain, Dabi, showed up. Whether he planned it or not, you’re unsure. But you do know that he intends to take advantage of it. He’s been following you for a while now, but has made no move to capture you. Atl least not yet. In fact, he seems like he’s having fun chasing the drugged up hero through the streets, and you worry about what that means for your chances of escape.

You know you have to keep moving, find someone who can help you. But as your lower stomach tightens in the most powerful cramp you’ve had yet, you can’t hold back the pained whine that echoes all the way through the tight confines of the alley.

That’s when you hear the laughter of Dabi, who has chosen this moment to catch up with you.

You turn around, fear turning your blood into pure ice as you meet his eyes. He’s smirking at you as he casually leans against a wall, acting for all the world like he hasn’t been chasing you for hours.

You try to shove yourself up from the wall to begin running again, only for Dabi to slam a hand on the wall right beside your head. Your head is spinning so much that you didn’t even see him move towards you.

“Don’t you dare fucking try it. You know you can’t outrun me.” He glances down at the obvious wet spot on your crotch. “Although at this point, you probably don’t even want to, do you?”

He dips his finger into the slick and brings it up to his mouth, staring at you as he licks his finger clean. “You taste so good, sweetheart.”

“Please - just let me go,” you whisper quietly, too afraid to worry about your pride, and your mind too hazy to think of any other way out of this. “I won’t tell anyone about where you are, just please let me go.”

His palm lights up with blue fire as he raises it towards you, and you close your eyes and brace for the burning. But instead, you feel heat pressed against your body and hear the ripping sound of your hero suit being torn down the middle. Your eyes fly open to see that he singed your costume just enough to make it easy to peel you out of it, and he laughs at your shocked gaze.

“You didn’t actually think I was going to let you go, did you? I have you right where I want you.” He shoves you face first against the wall as he plunges two fingers inside of you, grazing a spot against your inner walls that has you instantly cumming around his fingers. Shame makes your face heat up, a tear running down the side of your face that you’re getting off from being violated in a dirty back alley by a villain.

“Such a fucking slut, already cumming from just this.” He adds in a third as your pussy still convulses with your orgasm, your inner walls seeming to suck them even deeper inside of you. “You’re so damned wet that it’s easy to slip right in.”

Your fingers dig hard against the brick wall in an attempt to ground yourself, trying to let the pain distract from the fire burning through you. But it does nothing, and you cum again when he forces a fourth inside of you. The stretch of it burns to the point of pain, but even that feels amazing.

“Too much,” you whine, “it’s too much.”

“Nah, I think you can take more,” he snickers as his thumb ghosts across your entrance. He ignores your whimpers as he pushes his thumb past the tight outer ring of muscles. Your world narrows down to only the feeling of him working his hand inside of you, pain and pleasure all mixing into one and leaving you lightheaded and panting.

You feel so stretched out, so impossibly full, and his hand isn’t even all the way inside of you. This shouldn’t feel good, you think to yourself, you should be horrified. But as his hand slowly disappears inside of you, inch by agonizingly slow inch, you can’t stop yourself from feeling the intense pleasure. You orgasm two more times before his hand is grazing your cervix.

He removes his hand suddenly, and you hear the sounds of clicking. It takes you a second to place the noise, but when you do, you feel yourself go hot with complete and total shame.

“What is it, doll? Don’t like me taking pictures?” He snickers darkly as he pushes his hand back inside of your dripping, aching cunt. “The sight of that gaping little cunt was too much for me to resist.”

Your gasps and whines as he fits his hand back in are embarrassingly loud as they echo through the alley, and you can feel your juices gushing out and dipping to the pavement below. When he straightens his fingers out as he strokes the inner walls of your pussy, your vision goes white as you squirt everywhere, only managing to remain standing by clinging to the wall.

“Fuck yes, doll, god that was so fucking hot,” he praises you as he unzips his pants. “You better be glad you’re so damned wet, because I intend to fuck this little ass of yours too.”

He gathers your slick on his other hand, using it to pump his painfully hard cock as he guides it to the entrance of your asshole. “No no no, please, you can’t, it’s too much,” you beg and plead in sheer panic, but he ignores you completely as he begins to push inside of you.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” you babble as you feel his cock stretching out the walls of your ass. You orgasm again as his fist and cock press against each other through the thin barrier of muscles separating them. “So - so full,” you whine as you reach between your legs to continue to stroke your aching clit. Despite how many orgasms you’ve already had, the drug is still raging through your system and you still can’t get enough.

“That drug really is strong, isn’t it? Hahh, fuck, look at how much of a fucking whore you are.” Dabi snorts as he smacks your ass, causing you to clench down and drawing a deep groan from the both of you. “Fist in your pussy, thick cock filling up your ass, and you’re still rubbing that little clit of yours like a bitch in heat.”

His hand thrusts inside of you in time with his cock, and you’re only staying upright because of the wall you’re leaning up against. “Please stop,” you sob to the man ravaging your body, “too much, it’s so - oh fuck!” Your next orgasm rips through you, and it’s almost painful in its sheer intensity.

Dabi increases his pace, balls slamming against your ass with every thrust as his fist continues to work your insides, and he hisses out a curse when he feels you tighten around him again. “Not going to last, holy fuck, this ass feels too fucking good,” he grabs your hip with one hand as he slams balls deep inside of your aching ass, releasing thick ropes of cum.

He fucks you through his orgasm before finally pulling out with a choked gasp when the sensitivity becomes too much, and you glance down to see the mess dripping out of you and coating the pavement. You don’t think you even have the energy to cry, at least until you feel a handcuff going around your wrist and snapping closed against a nearby pipe connected to the wall.

Dabi’s face breaks out into a smirk at your confused face. “Maybe I should leave you like this, that way anyone who wanted to use you could have a go with you. Would you like that?”

“No, please don’t leave me like this!” You pull hard at the handcuff, but there’s no give to the metal and it’s cinched too tightly around your wrist to be able to slip out. “Oh fuck, no,” you sob out as you allow your head to fall back against the wall as that terrible, horrible lust is boiling back up, forcing you to rub your thighs together to try and relieve it.

When you open your eyes, Dabi is gone, and you don’t know whether to feel relieved by that or panicked. But then you hear the footsteps approaching where you’re chained, and you feel a hesitant sort of hopefulness that someone is here to rescue you.

That hesitancy goes away completely when you see who it is, and you just know that everything is going to be okay now.

“Are you here to save me?” You whisper quietly as you look up at the winged hero, Hawks with pleading, tear stained eyes. He’s going to save you, you just know it. He’s a hero, right? Of course he would help an innocent civilian after they’ve been violated in a dirty back alley by a villain.

But your heart sinks into your chest, despair filling every fiber of your being as you see Hawks reaching for his pants as the distinct sound of a belt unbuckling echoes through the alleyway.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Tags: @trafalgar-temptress, @thewheezingwyvern, @vixen-scribbles, @ttamaki, @lildreamer93, @kittygonyan, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @daedaep69, @heyybrittannia, @groovydreamertrash, @chou-maitresse, @shoutogepi, @togasknifes, @kingtamakimurder, @shigaraki-is-my-master, @kittycatkrissa, @reinawritesbnha, @yanderart, @dabilove27, @fae-father, @anxietyplusultra, @flutterfalla, @angmarwitch, @nereida19, @dabis-kitten, @bakugos-cumsock, @yumeneji,

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #yandere dabi #bnha x reader #bnha smut #mha x reader #yandere mha #mha smut #yandere bnha #yandere prompts #tw: noncon #tw: aphrodisiac #tw: drugging #hisoknen #sequel bait

1K notes · View notes

tsarisfanfiction · 3 years

Text

A Little Fall Of Rain

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Scott, John

Here is my contribution to @tagminibang! My artist was the absolutely fantastic @chenria and you can find her accompanying art over here. Something nice and family friendly from us here (please don’t mind the title, it has nothing to do with a certain musical song), and of course some good old Scott&John because who doesn’t love that?

John’s pulled one of his disappearing acts again, and Scott can’t relax until he knows where he’s gone.

People. There were people everywhere, all dressed to the nines and peacocking around. Nothing particularly unusual for an event hosted by Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, where no-one in attendance was worth less than at least ten million dollars apiece and appearing to be the poorest in the room would make you a target for the vampires of the elite.

It was a gauntlet Scott would have gladly accepted, not particularly bothered by how others perceived him and his wealth, except the problem with being a Tracy was that his status of multi-billionaireness was well known, and he was actually richer than most of the aristocracy in attendance, even if there were a few Old Money families that looked down their noses at the Tracys for being New Money.

Still, the buffer of their wealth was, at least, sparing his brother from being preyed upon as the poor, charity case invited to look good. Scott wasn’t sure who the actual poorest person in the room was, but anything to keep at least some of the pressure of the occasion off of John was always worth it.

It was a well known fact that John despised this sort of event. Too many people, too much noise and gravity, too many expected conversations and a lot of interest in the elusive Tracy. Scott still wasn’t sure why Lady Penelope insisted he attend these things, and knew that John was going to hide himself up on Thunderbird Five for at least a month and come down for absolutely nothing or no-one as soon as he escaped the party. She called it good for him, and a breath of fresh air, and Scott only let it slide because John never actually said no.

Speaking of his brother, he’d once again lost sight of the distinctive ginger hair amongst the vibrant colours of the event. Hopefully, that meant that John was just in hiding, rather than the chance he’d been dragged into a conversation out of Scott’s current sight. He glanced around the room again, just to be sure, and when no flash of ginger caught his eye, set his shoulders and beelined for their host.

Resplendent in a stunning light pink ballgown, elegant hands covered with equally elegant white gloves and hair coiffed into something gravity-defying yet somehow not at all outrageous, Lady Penelope was entertaining an elderly woman who Scott had been briefly introduced to earlier in the event, some hours ago, as the Duchess of Royston. As far as the British aristocrats seemed to go, she seemed quite amicable, so Scott had no qualms about stepping in as their conversation paused.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but have you seen John recently?”

“Have you lost him?” Lady Penelope asked, sounding the faintest bit amused. If it was anyone else, Scott would have been annoyed at that, but a longstanding friendship with the Lady told him there was no malice or judgement behind it. It was the amusement of someone who knew how much John hated crowds, and how much Scott could, according to his brothers, hover. “I’m afraid I haven’t seen him recently.”

The answer wasn’t surprising, but it was a little disappointing.

“The redheaded young man?” the Duchess asked, and Scott turned to her. “I do believe I saw him heading for the doors earlier.” She gestured to the small side door that led out of the ballroom and, if Scott’s memory served, towards the gardens.

John was likely hiding, then.

Scott smiled at both women. “Thank you,” he said, inclining his head a little towards the older of the two. “I’ll leave you to your conversation. Sorry again for the interruption.”

“What a charming young man,” he heard as he walked away. “Penelope, I know it’s not my place to say, but you could do far worse than a man like that.”

Scott picked up the pace a little, determined to get out of earshot of whatever reply to that Lady Penelope would make, and making a note to never let Gordon know.

The rich like to talk to the rich, and although Scott was on a mission to find and check on his brother, he was waylaid by at least three other people all wanting to discuss all manner of things from International Rescue to, disconcertingly, his ongoing bachelorship before he was able to slip through the door and head down the corridor.

Soundproofing cut off the hubbub of conversation the moment the door clicked shut behind him, proving an excellent argument for why John would come this way, and Scott followed the hallway until he found a bay window that overlooked one of the many gardens in the Creighton-Ward estate.

John was perched on the window sill, although window seat was probably a more accurate term, looking out at the gentle rain falling from the sky. Raindrops raced each other down the panes of glass, and Scott silently settled next to him, waiting to be acknowledged.

It didn’t take long. “I’m fine,” his brother said quietly, still looking out the window rather than turning to face him. Scott hadn’t expected him to. “You can go back.”

Scott let out a wry chuckle. “The hot topic right now seems to be how eligible a bachelor I am,” he said, leaning forwards on his knees and watching his brother out of the corner of his eye. “If you don’t mind, I think I’d quite like to stay here until they move on to other things.”

His brother let out a hmm, sounding thoroughly amused at that, and Scott rolled his eyes. He knew full well that John was more than happy for him to be the target of that particular type of conversation, because it meant most of them would forget to ask him the same questions. Sibling solidarity only went so far, and perhaps even more so than the rest of his brothers, John was all too willing to throw him under the bus to evade the limelight himself.

“If they follow you here, I am leaving,” John threatened mildly. “And then you will not be welcome to follow me.” It wasn’t an empty threat, but that didn’t matter because Scott would always use himself as bait if it meant a brother could escape a bad situation. Besides, John knew Lady Penelope’s manor far better than he did, and Scott knew if John really wanted to hide, even he wouldn’t be able to find him until the ginger was ready to be found.

It wouldn’t be the first time, after all. John had never been a fan of social situations and had mastered the art of disappearing young. Scott had many memories of running around frantically, trying in vain to find where his brother had got to after taking his eye off of him for two seconds. For someone with such vibrant natural colouring, John was unfairly good at the vanishing act.

He sighed and settled back against the window pane more comfortably. At least John was old enough now to look after himself if he did vanish, and would always come home eventually - even if it was only a necessary stop on his way back to Thunderbird Five and the stars while he recuperated from socialising. It was a marked improvement from when he’d vanish as a child and leave everyone in a panic until he reappeared hours later.

Scott had never quite shaken the instinct to panic when he vanished, no matter how old and self-sufficient his brother was now.

“I can hear you thinking from here,” John said suddenly, and Scott glanced up at him again. He was still watching the rain out the window, seemingly disinterested in paying any attention to his older brother - aside from the comment, which made it perfectly clear that John was, in fact, keeping track of him with at least part of that big brain of his. “I told you I’m fine.”

“I know you are,” he assured him, feeling the cool of the glass seep towards his scalp from where he was resting his head against the window.

John gave a considering hum. “In that case, I’ll assume you’re working yourself into a panic unnecessarily.”

Scott huffed, unwilling to concede the point. “I am not working myself into a panic,” he retorted, a little defensively.

His brother finally turned his head away from the window slightly, enough for one turquoise eye to come into view. The accompanying ginger eyebrow rose in challenging disbelief and Scott scowled in response.

“I was just thinking about all the vanishing acts you tend to pull at things like this,” he admitted after a moment. The visible turquoise eye rolled at him before John turned back to face the window. He didn’t say anything in response, but he didn’t need to; his body language broadcasted perfectly well that he thought Scott was being an idiot.

Scott was used to that attitude - none of his brothers ever seemed to fully appreciate what it was like to be their big brother, after all. Gordon might proudly claim that his grey hairs were all down to his fish of a brother, but the truth of the matter was that they’d all contributed.

Still, Scott wouldn’t change any of them for the world.

Raindrops raced down the large window, merging and lingering and swallowing smaller ones before darting several inches further down in a blink of an eye. It was a mesmerising sight; no wonder John was so captivated by the weather.

Then again, he didn’t get rain in space.

Scott was on his feet before his mind caught up. His movement caught John’s attention, judging by the way the single, turquoise eye reappeared to regard him once more.

“Going back already?” his brother asked. “I thought you were hiding from the discussions about your eligible bachelorship.” There was no sympathy at all in John’s voice, just an undercurrent of amusement. Scott suspected he wouldn’t be hearing the end of it for a while.

“No,” he said truthfully, which was apparently unexpected enough for John to look away from the window completely.

“Then where are you going?” his brother asked. John was normally far too perceptive for Scott’s liking, and he probably shouldn’t be relishing catching him out as much as he was.

“Come on,” Scott invited in answer, tilting his head towards the window. “Let’s go.”

John glanced back towards the window, raising an eyebrow at the rain still falling. “You want to go outside?”

“Why not?” Scott shrugged. “No-one’s going to chase us out there.”

“Because their clothes would get ruined,” John pointed out. “Like ours will.”

Scott rolled his eyes. He wasn’t so attached to the suit he was currently wearing that he’d mourn the loss, and he knew John felt similarly about his own formal clothes.

“They’re replaceable,” he pointed out. “So, are you coming?”

John’s arguments didn’t fool him one bit - one thing his brother truly missed when he was amongst the stars was the cool sensation of rain on his skin, and Scott suspected that the only reason he’d been sat in the bay window instead of somewhere in the Creighton-Ward’s impressive grounds was because he’d known Scott would come looking for him sooner or later, and would have panicked if he couldn’t find him.

Sure enough, with one last sigh that was entirely put-upon, John extended his long legs and made his way to his feet. “Lead the way.”

Scott wasn’t as familiar with the manor as his brother, but he had a pretty good idea where most of the external doors were. John stayed at his shoulder as they passed through the hallways, bereft of any of the other guests, who were all no doubt still gossiping in the ballroom, and found a door that led outside.

The rain wasn’t a monsoon, but it was steady, leaving the sky heavy and grey, and misting out the trees on the far edge of the lawn. Scott lingered in the threshold of the door for a moment, watching the weather, but his brother had no such hesitation.

A little brother he might be, but John had never needed Scott to lead the way. With the assurance that Scott now knew where he was, and wouldn’t be hunting him down frantically, he strode out past him, the fabric covering his shoulder just brushing Scott’s, and out into the rain.

Scott lingered a moment longer, watching the way John tilted his face up slightly to greet the rain, the ginger curl of his bangs losing some of its volume as it dampened. John didn’t beam like their brothers when he was happy, but there was a relaxation in his face and a draining of tension in his body that told Scott that he’d got it right. John really had wanted to go out in the rain.

When his brother’s vibrant eyes slid closed, he took the final step outside himself, feeling the cool raindrops caressing his own skin and seeping into his hair. His hair gel was going to wash out if he stayed out here for too long, but that was a small price to pay to see John enjoying himself down on Earth.

So was the suit. The already black fabric of his jacket darkened even further with water almost immediately, and he knew that by the time John was ready to go inside again, it would be completely ruined. As he’d said to his brother, though, the suits were replaceable.

John’s happiness was not. Scott would ruin a hundred jackets if it meant seeing John so relaxed and content.

Jacketless, his brother’s shirt was quickly becoming soaked through, the white material clinging to his body - the same way his vibrant hair was starting to plaster to his scalp - gaining hints of translucency, and the thought crossed Scott’s mind that he’d have to make sure John didn’t get sick later. The astronaut didn’t seem to care about that, though, standing stock still for several minutes with his hands loosely hanging by his side and his face tilted upwards.

Scott hung back, several paces away but still outside in the rain himself. Cool droplets trickled down the back of his neck, originating somewhere around his hairline, and he could tell even without raising a hand to check that his own hair was plastering itself to his scalp in much the same way as John’s. One droplet ran down from his forehead and caught the corner of his eye, tangled up in eyelashes, and Scott blinked twice to clear it. Reluctantly it got the message and carried on down his face, running over his cheek and trailing down towards his chin.

They didn’t get rain like this at home. English rain was strange, and definitely nothing like the tropical rains Tracy Island witnessed. Even Kansas weather had been different to this. The water was cool and refreshing on his skin, and after several moments Scott took another couple of steps forwards, towards his brother.

He didn’t enter his personal space, though. If John wanted him there, he would make it clear - most likely by moving himself until he was within arm’s reach of Scott. As they’d come out here to escape the crowds, however, Scott deemed that unlikely. Instead, he wandered past him, away from the manor and large ballroom windows. If the wrong person looked out and saw them, their little rainy peace would be broken by someone else who cared less for their clothes than chasing Tracys.

Scott made sure to keep John in view, not prepared to hunt his brother down if the ginger pulled another disappearing act, even as he found a lone tree standing proud in the middle of the manicured lawn and slipped around it, allowing the trunk to conceal him from anyone glancing outside.

Exactly what type of tree it was, he didn’t know, but it was large and broad, boughs extending out above his head and providing a meagre shelter from the rain. It was the same as the trees that made up the woodland at the far edge of the lawn - also large and proud, but with enough space between some of them to hide a Thunderbird. His own ‘bird lurked inside, concealed from view and waiting to carry the two of them back home the next morning.

Tonight, Lady Penelope had insisted, they would stay with her, and Scott had no reason to decline. He did, however, hope that it was an invitation that hadn’t been extended to any of the other guests. Evading their apparent fixation with his marriage status - or lack thereof - was not something he wanted to have to spend all night and breakfast doing as well.

No matter how amused John might be at the whole affair.

Speaking of John, his brother appeared to have noticed that he’d moved, because he’d opened his eyes and started moving forwards himself.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one hiding from the party,” the ginger commented, his voice dry and at odds with the wet shirt he was wearing. The white had gone well and truly translucent now, clinging to his body in a way that Scott knew from experience would get John hounded by half the party the next time they saw him.

He made a mental note to sacrifice his jacket in John’s direction before they went back in. It wouldn’t be a perfect fit, but it would at least keep the attention off of him long enough for John to scrounge up a change of clothes.

“Yeah, well,” he replied, shrugging. “It wouldn’t matter which of us was hiding if they spotted the other, would it?”

John let out a small chuckle in response, rounding the tree in its entirety and therefore putting himself out of sight as well. “Are you sure it’s not just because you don’t want them badgering you about being single?”

He huffed in response, crossing his arms and leaning back against the trunk. The bark rubbed against the back of his jacket, but he ignored it. The rain had already done enough damage - what was a little more?

“My relationship status is none of their business,” he grumbled, shooting his younger brother a considering look. “Wait until they start on you.”

The smirk he got in return didn’t make him feel any better.

“They won’t give me a second glance while you’re around, big brother,” John pointed out with the air of someone who knew exactly what was up, and was quietly smug about it. “No-one’s interested in the spare Tracy.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “You know, technically you’re my heir,” he reminded him. It did nothing to douse the smug smirk his brother was sending his way.

“They don’t think like that,” John shrugged confidently. He was still out from underneath the protection of the boughs, rain falling on his skin and leaving trails of water across it. Scott watched a raindrop run right to the tip of his nose and hang there; the astronaut didn’t even seem to notice, even though it made Scott’s own nose twitch empathetically. “The only heirs they’re interested in are the unborn ones you don’t have because you’re still an eligible bachelor.”

Urgh. Scott pulled a face. “Did you have to put it like that?”

John’s ongoing smirk confirmed that yes, he did have to phrase it like that. Little brothers - who wanted them?

Scott refused to give John any satisfaction by saying that out loud, although he suspected that didn’t actually matter. If there was anyone who had mastered the art of mind-reading, Scott would put John right at the top of the suspect list.

“Well,” John said after a moment, shifting his weight. “I’m going to go for a walk. Are you coming, or would you rather hide under the tree?”

“I’m sheltering,” Scott corrected. John made an uh huh noise in the back of his throat which he purposefully ignored. Still, if John was offering company, instead of retreating into his own personal space, then Scott wasn’t going to turn that down. The problem with John living in space was that he just didn’t get to see this particular little brother in person as much as he’d like.

He pushed off from the tree, straightening up and shoving his hands in his pockets as he took the couple of short steps back out into the rain. John hadn’t bothered to wait for him, and he had to jog a couple more paces before he was at his brother’s side.

It felt like the rain had got heavier, but the droplets were still cool and refreshing on his face, even if he could feel his hair wilting under the weight. Beside him, John’s hair had all but lost its usual curl, vibrant strands of ginger instead plastered to his forehead. His brother didn’t seem to care at all.

Despite inviting him along, John didn’t seem particularly inclined towards conversation as he picked his way across the expansive grounds of the Creighton-Ward manor. It was clear that this was far from his brother’s first time doing so; while Scott started getting a little turned around by all the identically pruned bushes and perfect flowerbeds, John continued unerringly as though it was his ridiculously large garden.

Not that Scott could really comment on the size of the Creighton-Ward estate when his own home consisted of an entire volcano. Both the ranch and the Kansas farm spanned equally large acreage; the Tracys had never been a stranger to calling huge swathes of land home.

John had easily spent enough time in this manor during his Oxford days to have the entire estate mapped out in that impressive brain of his. Scott resolved to never play hide and seek with him here.

The silence that hung between them was a comfortable one. On some levels, it was more touching and heartfelt than if John had wanted to talk - John was a huge fan of personal space, and being invited to share it, trusted to share it, when he had so clearly hit his socialising quota already was akin to an honour.

Rain continued to fall, Scott’s jacket feeling more and more sodden by the minute, but John never headed for anything remotely resembling shelter. The weather wasn’t particularly warm, either. By English standards it might have been passable, but being used to the tropics meant that Scott found it decidedly on the cool side.

John seemed unaffected, but then again John spent most of his time in a rigidly controlled environment and hated the heat. Scott still hoped he’d be able to persuade Parker to get them both a hot drink when they re-entered the manor building. Then again, he wouldn’t put it past the older man to bundle them straight to their rooms with layers of blankets and disapproving mumbles. The former crook liked to pretend he was as tough as nails - and in some respects he was - but he was also quick to fuss over the few friends he had.

Being counted amongst that number was almost as high an honour as being invited to share John’s personal bubble.

Sunbeams poked out from behind the grey clouds as they were strolling through one of several rose gardens - or maybe it was the same one and John had led them around in circles a few times. In answer, the rain faded away into nothing and the world hung, heavy and still. John stopped walking, and Scott followed suit.

Above them, the clouds were dispersing. It seemed that the rain was over, at least for now, although the world around them shimmered a little like crystal as sun caught beads of water clinging to the flowers, the grass, the trees. John glistened as well, his hair transformed into a burning halo as the sun caught the water plastering it to his scalp.

Hands in his pockets and face once again tilted to the sky, Scott’s little brother appeared to be considering something. What, there was no point asking. If John wanted him to be part of the decision making process, he’d say so. Scott suspected he was debating if he wanted to stay outside or duck inside the manor to escape the reappearing sun.

John missed the rain on Thunderbird Five. He did not miss the sunburn.

Sure enough, after a moment his brother turned to face him.

“I’m heading back inside,” John said. “Are you done hiding from your eligible bachelorness yet or are you going to stay out here?”

Scott huffed at him, narrowing his eyes in displeasure at the jab. John really wasn’t going to be letting that go any time soon.

“They’ll have moved topics by now,” he replied, a lot more confidently than he felt. In all honesty, he had no idea how long it would be the hot topic for, but if he stayed out later than John he’d never live it down.

“That topic won’t be dropped until you’re married with kids,” his brother pointed out. Scott scowled. “But if you’re sure you’re ready to go back in…” He trailed off meaningfully and, without waiting for Scott, started striding back towards the manor.

Not wanting to let his brother out of his sight, and maybe a little unsure of the paths back, Scott lengthened his stride to catch up with him again. Turquoise eyes glanced sideways at him, and John’s face settled into subtle amusement.

Scott decided it was best for his pride if he didn’t ask what was funny.

He glanced up at the sky as they walked. The shimmer of moisture in the air was fading as the sun grew stronger and the clouds continued on their merry way to deposit rain on some other part of the English countryside. It wouldn’t be raining again just yet.

His foot caught something hard and he stumbled. Instantly a vice-like grip appeared on his arm, yanking him back upright and steadying him.

“And you call me the clumsy one,” John commented lightly. “Watch where you’re walking.”

Scott glared down at the flowerbed border he’d apparently walked into before switching targets to his brother. John, as always, seemed completely unperturbed at the look. Turquoise eyes looked him up and down, clearly making sure he hadn’t somehow hurt himself with his stumble, before the grip on his arm vanished and John continued down the path.

Sending another glare at the border, Scott followed.

Being behind John quickly brought back the reason why he’d been checking the sky. While the rain had stopped, the white shirt his brother was wearing was still very soaked through, with the consequences of that on full display. Scott shrugged out of his own, soaking wet, jacket.

“John,” he called, lengthening his strides to catch up. His brother paused and turned back to look at him quizzically, jumping as Scott draped the waterlogged jacket over his shoulders.

“What are you doing?” the astronaut asked, making to shrug the fabric off. “Carry your own jacket, Scott.”

Scott caught the fabric before it could fall to the ground. “John, you’re wearing a white shirt.”

A single eyebrow raised. “Your observational skills are unparalleled.”

Little brothers. Scott huffed. “And yours are lacking,” he retorted. “You wore a white shirt in the rain.”

John looked at him, puzzled, for a moment, before comprehension dawned across his face. A quick glance down had his pale skin reddening slightly.

“Oh.”

Scott shook his head fondly and draped the jacket around his brother’s shoulders again. This time it was gratefully accepted. They weren’t quite the same size, but Scott’s shoulders were the broader of the two, so while the fabric bunched a little oddly when John threaded his arms through the sleeves and fumbled the buttons until it was concealing as much of the wet white shirt as possible, it did at least fit. Scott was grateful it wasn’t Virgil.

“You might want to go and get changed into something dry,” he suggested. “Get out of those clothes.”

“I didn’t bring a spare suit,” John reminded him. “I don’t have anything else with me suitable for Lady P’s party.”

Scott rolled his eyes and started walking again. “Then just don’t come back to the party,” he said bluntly. “That’s not exactly a tragedy for you. You can see Lady Penelope again once it’s over - she won’t care what you’re wearing.”

“She will care,” John corrected, catching up to him. “She’ll judge my outfit and everything.” Despite the words being ones of apparent complaint, he didn’t actually seem that bothered about it. Then again, he had survived going to university with the woman. Their friendship was on a completely different level compared to the one the rest of the Tracys shared with her.

“Just go and get yourself out of those wet clothes and make yourself comfortable for the rest of the evening,” Scott sighed. “I’ll make your excuses.”

“If I need to get changed, why don’t you?” John challenged. Scott grinned at him and tapped his own shirt.

“Not white,” he pointed out. Well, admittedly, he would call it white, but according to Virgil it was cream, and according to the weather that combined with the covering jacket meant that it hadn’t gone the same way as John’s white shirt. “Ergo, still appropriate for polite company.”

John scrutinised him for several moments as they walked, as though he was trying to find an excuse why Scott’s outfit wasn’t appropriate any more.

“You’ll get sick if you stay in wet clothes too long,” he said eventually. “Make sure you come up and get changed soon.”

“I don’t have a spare suit, either,” Scott admitted. “I’ll be fine.” It couldn’t be that many more hours before the end of the party, surely…

“If you’re not up in half an hour I’m sending Parker to extract you,” John said firmly. “Virgil will have both our hides if you go home sick.”

“Half an hour?” Scott repeated. “I’ll be lucky to talk to Lady Penelope by then. You’ll have to give me longer than that.” There was no point telling John not to enlist Parker at all - his brother would hum non-committedly then do it anyway the instant he was out of earshot.

John scoffed. “You’ll find a way,” he said confidently. “Just flirt your way through the crowds like you normally do. Half an hour, then Parker will get involved.”

They’d arrived back at the manor itself, and John sent him one last smug grin before vanishing up what had to be a servant’s staircase before Scott could try another attempt to bargain for more time. With a quiet groan, Scott adjusted his damp tie and headed back towards the ballroom.

His wet - and likely bedraggled - appearance caused a stir when he re-entered the room. Conversations stopped, eyes stared, and then the whispering started. Well, he’d take them talking about him over attempts to restart the conversations about his relationship status.

He scanned the room for the tell-tale flash of pink, locating Lady Penelope just before she came to a stop in front of him.

“I was under the impression you were looking for John, not trying to impersonate a drowned rat,” the Lady commented lightly. “You also appear to have misplaced your jacket, Scott.”

He shrugged lazily. “John wanted to go outside.”

“I see.” From the fond look that flickered in her eyes, she probably did get it. The British aristocrat was the closest thing John had to a best friend, after all. “And where is John now?”

“Retiring for the evening,” Scott explained. “Or at least until the party’s over and the stars are out.”

Lady Penelope laughed a little at that. “I shouldn’t be surprised,” she agreed. “And what about you? I notice today’s main topic of discussion isn’t to your liking.” There was a twinkle of amusement in her eyes that was entirely too similar to John’s reaction.

Scott decided the best thing to do was ignore it.

“I should get changed,” he admitted. “I’ll see you after the party’s over?”

“I dare say you should,” Lady Penelope agreed, “before you turn my ballroom into a swimming pool. Very well, I’ll see you boys later.” She turned away, and immediately got caught in another conversation with a guest.

Scott took the opportunity to duck back out of the room, evading anyone who might want to corner him for further conversations that he really didn’t care for.

Parker was standing just outside the door.

“Ah, there you h’are,” the butler said as Scott narrowly avoided walking into him. “h’I h’understand you’re done for the h’evening?”

Scott checked his watch. “There’s no way it’s been half an hour already,” he said suspiciously.

“‘alf h’an hour since when?” Parker asked innocently. “Master John said nothing h’about h’a time limit.” No, of course John didn’t. Pesky little brother. “Well, h’as you h’appear to be trying to turn h’into a drowned rat, h’I’d say you need a nice warm drink h’and a change h’of clothes.”

“That’s the plan,” Scott admitted. “I’ll see you later, Parker.”

“That you will,” the older man agreed, and Scott paused with his foot on the bottom step of the staircase. “h’I’ll be bringing h’up some ‘ot chocolate for the pair h’of you in a few minutes. ‘Onestly, what were you thinking, going h’out h’in the rain like that?”

Scott shrugged. “John wanted to,” he said, before resuming his ascent of the staircase, knowing that Parker would make good on his promise and be up soon with the drinks.

The Creighton-Ward manor was huge, and the guest suites were equally so. There was no sharing of bedrooms when they stayed overnight, but as Scott entered the room designated as his, he discovered a brother lounging on his bed, tablet in hand. Ginger hair was ruffled and sticking up all over the place - a clear victim of a towel drying - and the soaked suit had been replaced by a much less formal shirt and jeans.

“Don’t you have your own room?” he asked, not breaking his stride as he headed for his overnight bag and pulled out a change of clothes.

“Parker’s bringing the drinks here,” John replied, not looking up from whatever it was he was reading. “It makes more sense for me to be here.” Scott huffed and worked his tie loose from around his neck.

“You just wanted to make sure I didn’t stay in the party,” he accused.

John didn’t deny it, and Scott rolled his eyes before heading into the ensuite to dry off and get changed into his more casual clothes. No more formal suit and tie for him tonight.

When he re-emerged several minutes later, his own hair rivalling John’s for towel-dried mess and begging for another round of brushing and hair gel, Parker had arrived with the promised steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

“Drink up, the both of you,” the man demanded. “Going h’out in the rain like that, I h’ask you.” He shook his head despairingly. “What will your Gran say h’if you go and get yourself sick?”

“We won’t get sick, Parker,” Scott said confidently, accepting his mug and letting the warmth seep from the ceramic into his fingers. “We didn’t get that wet.”

“Don’t h’underestimate the English weather,” Parker warned. “Drink that h’up and wrap h’up warm.”

John appeared silently at his elbow and claimed his own mug before retreating back to the bed. Scott watched him burrow his bare feet under the covers and huffed.

“That’s my bed, you know,” he complained. John lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

“So?”

“So, leave some room for me.” Mug in hand, Scott settled himself next to his brother, nudging him over gently. John obliged, and after a few moments of shifting around, the pair of them were sat shoulder to shoulder with their feet under the covers.

Parker eyed them approvingly, and then tossed a blanket over their laps as well.

“h’I’ll be back once the party’s h’over,” he told them. “Keep warm.”

“We’ll be fine,” Scott assured him. “You don’t need to worry about us.”

Blue eyes surveyed him suspiciously. “h’I know some people that’d disagree with that h’assessment, Mr Scott. But duty calls, h’I suppose.”

Parker was clearly reluctant to leave them for some reason, but he did begrudgingly go out the door, shutting it behind him and leaving the two brothers to their drinks.

The hot chocolate was, unsurprisingly, good, and Scott found himself draining the mug in record time. Beside him, John was almost as fast, and they set the mugs down on the bedside tables almost in unison.

“Parker makes the best hot chocolate,” John commented, and Scott couldn’t help but agree.

“He does,” he agreed. “I could go for another.”

“Well, then, I’m glad I finished mine before you got it into your head to steal it,” John said dryly. “You can ask him for another one later.”

“Yeah,” Scott said, leaning back against the headboard of the bed. “I might do that. This might all be overkill-” he gestured at the warm mugs and the blanket, subtly tucking them in the bed “-but even if we’re not going to get sick, that chocolate is worth it.”

The sneeze came out of nowhere. As did the second, and the third.

The fourth sneeze came from his brother, and Scott glanced over at him with a sinking feeling. Bright turquoise met his eyes, and John gave a wane smile before sneezing again.

“I think,” his brother said, before being interrupted by another sneeze, “that maybe this wasn’t so overkill after all.”

Scott buried his face in his hands. It did nothing to stop the next sneeze, and he groaned.

“You might be right,” he admitted. “Dammit. Virgil’s going to- achoo -kill us.”

John groaned.

#tag mini bang 2021 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari write fanfiction #scott tracy #john tracy #lady penelope creighton-ward #aloysius parker #a little fall of rain #thunderfluff

62 notes · View notes

archduchessofnowhere · 3 years

Note

I recently went to Austria and visited the Hoffburg palace (saw the rooms of Sissi and Franz Josef) and that trip definitely increased my interest in Habsburgs and XIXc. Austrian Empire. I knew a fair bit about Sissi's life before that, but could you name some of the misconceptions that are popular? Like, was her mother-in-law really that bad? Was Sissi herself a decent person? Etc.

P.S. after seeing the palace I can firmly say, all movies and TV shows do not do the grandeur of the Austrian court justice. Dishes alone take up the entire floor.

How cool that you were able to visit the Hofburg! I'd love to go one day, it's a place with so much history!

One misconception that annoys me, and that you'll find it everywhere because it's a good click-bait title, it's that Sisi "stole" Franz Josef from her sister Helene. I even read once in an online magazine article that he "broke-off his engagement" to Helene in order to marry Sisi, which it's straight up false: Franz Josef was NEVER engaged to Helene, nor he ever expressed any desire to marry her. Franz Josef owned nothing to Helene, so saying that Elisabeth "stole her sister's boyfriend/fiancé" it's completly undeserving. Also, recently historian Christian Sepp wrote the first-ever biography on Sisi's mother Ludovika, and there he argues that in fact there was no scheming between Ludovika and her sister Sophie to marry their children. Saddly the book it's only available in German and thus I haven't been able to read it yet, so I can't really say much about this.

Another common misconception it's that Sisi was a striking beauty in her teens and that Franz Josef fell in love with her because he was instantly taken by her looks. Sisi was not considered beautiful at all in 1853, her mother Ludovika wrote that year "I seriously question wheter he [presumably Prince Georg of Saxony] would find her attractive (...) true, she's pretty because she is very young and animated, but she has no single pretty feature". As historian Brigitte Hamann wrote: "The legendary beauty of Empress Elisabeth grew very slowly. She had been a sturdy, boyish little girl with a round peasant face. At that time, her sister Helene was considered the great beauty in the family". Elisabeth only became a renowned beauty icon in the 1860s.

More under the cut!

About Archduchess Sophie, I think from Sisi's point of view she was that bad, but Sophie wasn't a sadistic monster that personally enjoyed torturing her daughter-in-law: she genuinely believed that what she was doing was for the greater good. Sophie had very old-fashioned and bigoted beliefs, and it were those beliefs what crushed the Revolution in 1848. I can see why she thought that mantaining tradition by any means was the only way of keeping her son and the Habsburg dynasty in power. She ended up being very cruel towards Elisabeth, but she could also be very loving: she adored her children and was devastated when her infant daughter Maria Anna died, and years later the loss of her son Maximilian, the ill-fated Emperor of Mexico, affected her so much that it actually deteriorated her own health. By all accounts, she seemed to have been a very complex woman. Also ironically, Sisi herself would later be very cruel towards her own daughter-in-law, Princess Stephanie.

A thing that I wish was more known it's that the firt trip to Hungary that Elisabeth and Franz Josef made with their daughters in 1857, the one in which saddly the little Archduchess Sophie died, wasn't the first family trip they ever did! In 1856 they went to the regions of Italy that were part of the Austrian Empire back then (can't remeber the exact places right now), and they took baby Sophie with them. The trip ended up being a success and Sisi was able to enjoy time with her daughter without having Archducess Sophie around, so it makes sense that Elisabeth insisted on taking her daughters with her to Hungary, because she already had before and everything had turned out fine! Sometimes I've seen the decision of taking the girls to the trip framed as an unwise choice that Sisi made, but it makes a lot of sense if you know about the trip to Italy.

Something that I'm not sure if is exactly a "misconception" but that I personally don't like it's the whole "Sisi is the 19th Century Princess Diana" narrative that has become quite popular in recent years. My problem with this narrative it's that while some of the parallels drawn are reasonable (like both of them struggling with eating disorders and depression through out their lives), others just feel forced, to the point of distorting actual facts of Elisabeth's life to "fit" her into Diana's image. For instance, a common one it's "both of them had unhappy marriages" which it's truth, but for completely different reasons! Charles doesn't seem to have ever been truly in love with Diana, meanwhile Franz Josef adored Elisabeth until his dying days. Another one it's "they were both beloved by the people", which it's not untrue but highly misleading: while Diana was almost universally beloved, Elisabeth was mainly loved in Hungary, in Austria she was very unpopular during her lifetime. Also this narrative exagerates Sisi's charitative work; while she was generous with people of lowers classes and had a special interest in mentally ill people, it was never a cause for her and in her later life she completely abandoned her representative role as Empress and dedicated wholly to her hobbies of traveling, writing poetry and studying languages. Diana, on the other hand, made charity her life's work and undertood the impact that her representative role had for good causes, and used it to the maximum. I can keep going on, but this are my main points.

Speaking of her marriage, something that is a well known fact by people that is interested in Elisabeth and Franz Josef, but perhaps the general public that only knows them from movies aren't aware of it's that their marriage wasn't a fairy tale love story. Although it was a happy union at first, Sisi fell out of love with her husband as years went by, to the point of actively evoiding him at some moments. She never hated him though, and she always cared about him. Elisabeth just wasn't interested in fullfiling the traditional role of a wife, so she didn't.

This leads me to the annoying misconception that Elisabeth and her friend Count Adrassy were lovers, and that he even was Archduchess Marie Valerie's biological father. This misconception isn't popular amongst people that like Sisi (or that at least have read read about her), but you'll find it everywhere in historical fiction. We can never know for sure, true, but the fact it's that there isn't a single piece of evidence of them ever having an affair, only malicious rumors spreand by the Viennese court. About their relantionship she said that "Yes, it was a true friendship, and it was not poisoned by love". Elisabeth actually seems to have been asexual; she definetly expressed repulsion towards sex (and also pregnancy) several times, and refused to sleep with Franz Josef after their son Rudolf's birth, and then again after their daughter Marie Valerie's. This doesn't really sound like a woman that would have a physical affair, right? Also, Marie Valerie was the living image of Franz Josef, there's no way he wasn't her father.

Lastly, about how she was as a person it's a bit hard to tell because she was very flawed, which is a normal thing since she was a human being, but I can understand why some people might not personally like her. She was shy, kind and loving, she could also be selfish and vain. She adored her daughter Marie Valerie, but she also didn't pay much attention to her older children Gisela and Rudolf; she even once told Valerie that "It is you alone that I love". I think that she was perhaps permanently scarred from the time that Archduchess Sophie took her eldest children away and that was the reason she couldn't really connect with them, but still ouch. As I mentioned before, she was very mean towards her daughter-in-law, and a lot of that hostility seems unjustified: the Viennese court just decided that Stephanie was a cold, stupid woman the moment she arrived, and Sisi agreed, and worse, later she even blamed her for Rudolf's death. But again, she could be a very loving person: she loved her Bavarian family, remained close to her siblings during her entire life and even defended her cousin King Ludwig II when everyone accused him of being insane. Also, she was devoted to Hungary and to the hungarians to the point that to this day they love her. And a lot of her more erratic behaviour seems to have come from her mental illness, so personally blaming her for that it's unfair (although of course, mental illness isn't a free pass to hurt other people). Overall, I think she wasn't a bad person, just extremely difficult, and that she could and did hurt a lot of people close to her.

Well those are at least some points that I can think of, this post ended up being way longer that I planned, sorry! It turns out I had a lot to say lol

#I do love elisabeth but I'm also very critical of her - it just really bothers me when she gets rewritten as this perfect angel of goodness #empress elisabeth of austria #franz josef i #sophie of bavaria archduchess of austria #asks

23 notes · View notes

sp00kworm · 4 years

Text

Silence (Part 3- Bloodhound’s Ending)

Part 1 - A Bar Brawl

Part 2 - A Totem to Remember (Revenant’s Ending)

---

Pairing: Bloodhound x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: None

---

The Star Goddess - Bloodhound’s Ending

---

Bloodhound had done well in the games recently. Keen eyes with even keener tactics had proven their worth countless times, in countless line-ups. They had a good number of wins under their belt and you assumed that meant lots of winnings. The customers had quickly become fans, and often you found them asking you about the mysterious champion and to put on the highlights for the latest match. You were always happy to put the highlights on for them when asked, and you enjoyed watching the expert tracking from Bloodhound on the screen. A few weeks of highlights made you wonder if Bloodhound would ever come back to your little bar in the outskirts of the city.

A chirp from over your shoulder paused you in your humming. The washing robot chirped again as you looked at it and watched the screen as it flashed with a winking emoji and a smirk before red text scrolled along the bottom.

‘WASHING COMPLETED!’

You smiled and nodded, “Okay buddy.” You patted his front, “Did you manage to put them all away?” You asked.

The robot chirped with a nod, his green optics flashing before he held out a tub of the shot glasses for you to take.

“I’ll put them away, no problem. Thank you.” You took the box with a smile and moved back towards the cabinet to put all the freshly washed glasses back in their proper homes. You blew dust from the shelves and tutted before taking a duster and wiping the shelves down with quick strokes towards you, removing the thin layer of dust over the wood. It was much tidier with a dusting. After placing the duster away you started putting away the glasses in their correct places.

You jumped when there was a knock at the front door. It was just before closing, but there wasn’t anyone in the bar, so you’d already gotten to cleaning up for the night. Another few knocks sounded against the metal and you placed the tub of glassware down before you headed over to the door and opened it a small amount.

A man stood in front of you, dressed in heavy pelts with a smile like a bears snarl. He gave a great laugh at you before pulling back his hood to reveal his bright white hair and beard, “It’s been long, krútt!” He raised his arms jovially before heaving his packs a little higher and pulling his hover-sledge a little.

“It has been a long, long time, Halldór.” You replied with a laugh as you let the traveller into the bar, “How has business been?” You asked as you helped him tuck his sledge in the corner by the door.

“Pah. What business?!” Halldór sneered as his icy eyes trained on the bar, “But you have had a makeover! Look you even have…what is name? Holovision!” He clapped his hands together before he tugged free his furs and hung them over the hooks by the door, “Did you get loan?”

“Nothing like that…” You shrugged, “Some asshole came in here and started…well…” You grumbled, “A man died in here and I got a lot of hush money.” The confession was like poison and bitter in your mouth and you unhooked the bar door before closing it and facing Halldór.

“Hush money. Not good to get involved with those sorts…even after the war.” He tutted in disappointment, “But, I suppose the money went to good use.” He didn’t ask anymore questions, and you were glad, for both of your sakes. You knew that the Games would not be too happy with more people knowing about the murder. It was best left in the past, and that was where you would rather it stay forever. Just the thought of Revenant’s orange gaze made you grimace.

Halldór sat himself at the bar and smiled, “Come, come. Let me tell you about the Outlands! There are new faces and new stories to be heard.”

“How about we get to that after you show me what insane drinks you’ve brought.” You laughed as you reached for some glasses and placed them in front of the Outlander.

Halldór scrubbed his hair back from his face and stood with a groan, hobbling tiredly, and dramatically, over to his sledge to take out items from the sacks laid across the metal structure. The sacks were large but Halldór reached into each of them in turn and pulled free a bottle of liquor from each, each of them wrapped tightly with brown paper and tied to stop them from breaking and spilling into the rest of his goods. He pulled all the brown paper free and revealed a brown bottle and two green taller bottles. They each had a hand made label and you looked at them before taking the brown one in hand and smiling at the label. Brennivín. You smiled at the label and turned it around for him to see.

“It has been a while since I’ve gotten hold of it.” Halldór chuckled as he squinted at the label, “That’s something strong right there.” He snorted, “I don’t think many customers would be after that.”

“Its more for a personal try.” You offered as you turned the bottle back to face him and hummed, “What kind of a price are you thinking of? I can give you a hundred for it.” You went in low, knowing you had room to bargain with the trader then.

Halldór snorted at your offer, “I want at least two hundred for it. It has come a long way you see.” He smirked at your scowl.

“One bottle for two hundred. No way. One fifty.” You retorted.

“Not even one hundred and sixty?” Halldór teased you.

“Nice try. Not a penny more for you.” You chastised as Halldór laughed at you. You reached for your credit purse and pulled out the chips for Halldór to take from the top. He slid you the bottle and you took it from the bar top with a smile. The green label was stark with a writing you were sure you could not read in large lettering above the translation.

“I have something else you might like.” Halldór smirked as he went back to retrieve something else from one of his large sacks. He pulled free a large jar full of meat and sauce.

“That looks like death.” You commented at you watched the pickling liquid swill left and right.

“No, no. It is pickled meats. Goes well with Brennivín.” He said as you took the jar from his grasp to look at the long strips of game in the juice.

“I feel like you’re lying to me, but I’ll take it.” You hummed as you eyed the gamey looking meat.

“For you, eighty credits.” Halldór smiled and you handed him the credits without much complaint, wondering if you could find someone to eat it if you didn’t like it.

Halldór tucked away all his goods before he sat down and slapped the bar with his palms, “Come then. Let us drink for a while, you can fill me in on what I have missed among the land of the living.”

You laughed at the merchant before you reached under the bar and plucked free a very suspicious looking rum, “Well you’ll be glad I got this then. I think it was made in some guys basement, but I know you like those sorts of drinks.”

Halldór laughed brightly, “You know me so well!” He threw his arms out with a guffaw and you laughed with him as you reached for the glasses and poured him a drink.

“To meeting old friend again!” Halldór cheered as he held his alcohol up. You clicked your glasses together and drank with each other late into the night, far past closing time.

The memory of that hang over made your eyes spin in your skull, a reminder of how tired you had felt the next day as you opened the bar for the night, eyes half closed despite the insane amount of water you had chugged. It was another busy night, some days after your exhaustion, and you were rushed off your feet trying to get out the insane amount of drinks to customers without any help. Thankfully, your washing robot was happy to step in and help you out with serving, though he was no good at pulling pints. You’d let him start pouring and watched as his tummy for washing smacked the handles over and caused beer to spill over the sides, splashing everywhere as the robot fussed and chirped in upset. Now he was happily handing out bottles and cans of drinks as you took care of the pints and other more delicate drinks which the robot could not handle. It went a lot easier with some help and you felt less rushed off your feet as the customers eventually ebbed to drinking and speaking with the occasional refill for the larger groups.

Closing time couldn’t come any sooner as you took in the last of the glasses and hooked your robot back up to the water to get on with the tidying. He chirped happily as the water started to churn in his systems and you laughed softly as he chirped a tune.

“Thanks for today buddy, you were a big help.” You cooed as you patted his shoulders and brushed off some dirt from him before you took your cloths and set to cleaning down the bar top and the tables

His screen flashed with a thumbs up emoji and you laughed again as the robot hummed to himself and happily set about working cleaning and stacking pots.

“That’s it, buddy. Too right.” You jokingly said as you headed back towards the tables on the back wall of the bar with the trigger bottle of disinfectant in your hand. The tables were particularly covered in beer and pieces of nuts. You grumbled at the mess, wiping away the sticky mess before you cleaned away the crumbs and sprayed it with disinfectant. The holoscreen played softly in the background announcing the end results of this season in the Apex Games. It was a rough season, but Bloodhound had finished with many wins under their belt, closely followed by Revenant. Neither was the winner overall, but you turned to watch the replays of intense moments and laughed at the knife in Revenant’s side as Bloodhound severed his coolant pumps and drove it three times up through his sternum, severing the rest of Revenant’s vitals before they laid the Simulacrum back and placed the gun over his chest with a nod of their head. The Simulacrum got what he deserved for trying to bait the hunter into fighting him.

The call of a Raven sounded from outside and your head shot up as you paused cleaning the tabletops to peer through the window as the Raven hopped along the window ledge and pecked at the glass harshly. Two hands appeared from behind the wall to grasp the bird by its body, tucking its wings close before the hunter appeared, clad in heavy fabric and goggles, their respirator fixed firmly in place. Bloodhound peered through the window, Artur tucked under their arm before they nodded their head in greeting and knocked on the door quietly with three solid raps of their knuckles. You turned towards the door and unlocked the mechanism before peering out with a smile.

“Hey stranger.” You smiled at Bloodhound.

Bloodhound let Artur go at the birds incessant nipping to their gloves and watched him hop up their shoulder before replying, “It has been some time.” They commented, “I hope you have faired well.”

“I’ve been fine! It’s been busy but with the season over its finally winding down a little bit.” You let Bloodhound in through the door, watching as Artur hopped across their shoulders before cawing loudly at your face, his beak snapping at your nose.

“Artur. That is rude.” Bloodhound reprimanded as they entered the bar, peering around the empty inside before they limped over to the bar and settled awkwardly on the seat, their foot perched on the stepping part of another stool.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” You watched Bloodhound as you rounded the back of them and lifted the bar door before standing behind the top and watching them squirm in discomfort, however minimalistic the movements were.

“I am fine. A small injury in the ring.” Bloodhound brushed your concerns aside as they adjusted themself on the stool.

“Revenant got you in that tussle, didn’t he?” You asked as you reached into the back of the liquor cabinet for the new bottle of Brennivín. You turned back to Bloodhound with a smile as you offered the green bottle to them and placed it on top of the wood. Bloodhound gave a breathy chuckle as they took the bottle and looked at the handmade label.

“The Simulacrum got his recompense for daring to try.” Bloodhound observed softly as they ran their gloved fingers over the label and reached to undo the top, pulling the cork with a deft twist of their wrist before smelling the strong liquor, even through the respirator.

“Its strong. That’s for sure. I remember you saying something about cold glasses?” You reached under the bar and tugged out two glasses from the cooler, laying them on the top for Bloodhound.

“

“Yes. Though snow is still the best way to cool this.” Bloodhound huffed a laugh again as they poured a generous amount into each glass.

You took one in your hand and raised it to the hunter, “To…” You floundered, “I don’t know. What do we toast to?”

Bloodhound held their glass up, “To new friendships and a long rest.” They tapped your glasses together before laying the drink back on the bar and waiting.

“Ah, sorry.” You turned around as they reached to undo the straps of their respirator, “You don’t have to take it off if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Bloodhound tapped the back of your elbow, “I do not mind.” Their voice was soft but gentle, like the sound of a strong wave against the beach, powerful but not hurtful. You turned around and smiled at their scarred face, the pale skin covered in thin veins of tough scars from an old injury. Their goggles stayed in place with their head wear and scarves, which prevented anything else from being revealed. Still, the gently slope of their lips made you wonder how someone with such a pretty, yet scarred mouth, could be a vicious hunter in a game of blood sport.

Bloodhound ignored your eyes looking over their scars and gave a small smile. It was a simple small twist of the corner of their lips before they took a large swallow of Brennivín and hissed at the burning in the back of their throat, “That is stronger than I have had.” They coughed a couple of time before chuckling and motioning to your own drink which you had not touched, “You have toasted but not drank.”

You swallowed heavily, “I don’t know if I want to after your reaction, and you’ve been drinking it all your life.”

“It is not that bad, so long as your stomach is strong.” Bloodhound insisted with another chuckle, “You will be fine. Give it a taste.”

“If you insist.” You joked as you took a sip of the liquor. It took a moment for the taste to pass and the burning sensation to clench your throat, “Oh my…” You gave a sharp cough and cringed at the burn before breathing deeply to try and ease it.

“It is good for the soul.” Bloodhound chuckled again before Artur squawked and tried to dip his beak into the glass, “No, my friend, it is far too strong for you.” They eased the bird from their shoulder and watched the Raven protest and hop along the bar, ruffling his feathers and pecking at the wood and bar taps.

Suddenly you felt at a loss for what to say. You had wondered if Bloodhound would ever show up. They were under no obligation to, of course, they had merely been interested in keeping Revenant in line, but you had to wonder if they enjoyed your company.

“So, what’s kept you away? Has Revenant kept you busy?” You asked as you watched Bloodhound sip at the drink.

Bloodhound gave a grumble, “Unfortunately. The robot cannot control itself.” Their fingers twitched in the motion as though they were playing with something and you watched them reached to their thigh and pluck free a short throwing dagger before they proceeded to spin the blade back and forth and around their fingers in a dexterous display.

“I don’t doubt that.” You commented as you dragged yourself over a stool and sat in front of Bloodhound, “I know it first-hand, after all.” You tried to laugh a little to not remember the night of the slaughter across your bar floor, but the blood and guts were fresh in your mind. The alcohol’s sting was welcome as you avoided Bloodhound’s eyes behind the orange tinted goggles.

A hand on your own shocked you, and you looked up just as they slid the knife across the bar, the tip of the blade tapping at your wrist.

“You do not have to fear him, krúttið mitt.” Bloodhound uttered before revealing bright, white teeth. Two fangs dipped out from under their top lip and you found yourself staring a little as their other hand cupped your palm and squeezed softly, comfortingly.

“I don’t fear him…” You tried to ease your hand out with a gentle tug, “I just don’t want him near me or my bar, ever again. I wouldn’t hesitate to…to…”

“I admire your bravery, but you would be dead before you could touch a wire. He is an animal now, do not forget that. He would have little regard for your life.” Bloodhound grumbled again, “I have seen him torture my fellows. I know what he is capable of. You are best to stay away.”

“And what, you’ll protect me?” You scoffed, “I’ve heard that before.”

“I will.” Bloodhound’s goggled eyes looked towards your own, the deep brown glinting through with the shine of the antique lighting, “I will make sure he bothers you no longer, this I promise.” They covered their heart and bowed their head, “And if I fail, then you will have the right to hate me.”

You took your hands away with a frown before shaking it and giving a wet, upset laugh, “There’s no need for the dramatics. I believe you.” You watched Bloodhound drag their hands back after a moment before you held the bottle of Brennivín again, “Another?”

“I would rather not partake again but thank you.” Bloodhound reached for their respirator and fixed it back into place. Their respirator whooshed quietly as you put the bottle back in its appropriate place.

“Do you have matches coming up?” You asked as you worked quietly behind the bar, facing the cabinet.

Bloodhound shook their head, the beads and bones of their hat clicking together, “Not soon, but I promised Loba I would help her practice her hand to hand.” They stated softly, “Though I think it is her way of gauging our individual abilities.” They confessed with a peer up the bar at Artur who was contently admiring himself in a metal nut dish.

Loba seemed to hardly need such training, “I think you’re probably right about that.” You chuckled, “Watching the test match…Well she really doesn’t need the training, huh?”

Bloodhound hummed in agreement, “She is up to something.” They commented mildly.

“Like what? I thought you were all there for the contest and the titles…or whatever it is you all like.” You asked as you leaned over to finish the last of the liquor in your glass with another cringe and a cough. You decided one glass was more than enough for you as well.

“Titles?” Bloodhound hummed, “I have three titles of Apex Predator, but that is not why I do this…The hunt is what I live for.” They confessed with another look at their knife, their glove testing the sharpness of the edge before they levelled their gaze on you, “None of us are kind people, but there are far more dangerous folk than I in these games. I am here to honour my Gods and my family. Others for fame. Others for death.”

“That’s…” You swallowed, “I didn’t mean to assume anything.”

“You have done no harm. Now you know my reasoning.” Bloodhound nodded their head, “I live for the hunt and to honour the All Father.” They confessed quietly as they slid the knife away.

There was a moment of quiet between the two of you before Bloodhound looked back at the door and to Artur who hopped along the bar back to the hunter’s arm. The Raven pecked at Bloodhound’s sleeve before he climbed back up to their shoulder, perched, watching you with two beady black eyes.

“I can’t say I understand it, but I respect it. It’s better than a lot of people.” You smiled at Bloodhound before remembering the jar of pickled meats you had gotten, “Oh, wait a minute. I know you want to go but I have something for you.” You rushed into the kitchen and rooted through the cupboards. Your washing robot chirped in confusion, large question marks floating over his screen as you finally pulled free the pickled game that you had purchased. Thankfully, when you rushed back into the bar, Bloodhound was still perched on their seat, watching you with their head slightly tilted in curiosity.

You placed the jar on the bar top, “I got these from the same merchant as the Brennivín. He said that anyone who liked Brennivín would love this.” You tapped the metal lid of the jar before sliding it closer to Bloodhound, “Take it as a thank you for what you’ve done for me.”

Bloodhound eyed the jar before carefully pulling it closer with a gloved hand, their respirator whooshing quietly with air before they reached to undo the lid. It came off with a pop and carefully they leaned to look into the pickling liquid.

“Pickled pheasant.” They whispered before looking back to you, maybe to assess your motive and reasoning, “I have no had this since I was a child.” They confessed as they screwed the lid back into place, “There was an old woman, we all called Amma, who made the best. Sour but meaty. Cooked just right. She passed some years into my teenage life. So, I thank you. This is a fine gift, krúttið mitt.”

“You’re welcome.” You smiled before looking back to the orange goggles, which hid dangerous eyes, “You keep calling me that…What does it mean?” You asked.

Bloodhound shook their head, the metal beads and nuts of their headwear clinking before they stood from the bar seat, “Perhaps that is something for another day. It is late and I have a long way back to my residence.” They reached for the jar and tucked it under their arm, “Thank you, for the drink, gift and for your time.”

“Its not a problem. You’re actually lovely company.” You complimented.

“Thank you?” The hunter seemed a little flustered, “I am oft’ told I am…too stoic and boring.” Bloodhound gave a small breathy laugh before tipping their hat, “I will see you again. Good night.”

“Good night, Bloodhound.” You followed them to the door and closed it behind them, watching through the window as Artur took off into the sky and Bloodhound melted into the shadows past the streetlamps.

The break between the seasons was a little longer this time. Various legends had injuries which needed to heal and personal business to attend to before they could get back to what they did best. That meant that Bloodhound had more free time to come to the bar. Sometimes they had a drink, but others they did not. The legend was not much of a drinker and you figured that out when one night they had around four drinks and swayed in their seat, back and forth, grumbling about each and every legend. Mirage came up often. It was usually how annoying the man was for a playboy. Loba came up a few times in the same category. A flirt by nature she managed to ruffle Bloodhound’s feathers often and the hunter made it clear how much they despised the foolery of it all. Other times, Bloodhound showed up after closing and simply talked about their day, carefully retelling tales they thought you would enjoy. That’s how the stories started. When you were alone, each with a drink and a snack, Bloodhound would think of a tale from their childhood, about the Gods or folktales which were too whimsical to ever believe. You were entranced by their voice and storytelling capabilities, and a few times you watched Artur settled down to sleep with the gentle rhythm. You yourself could have also fallen asleep with the peace that settled over you both in those moments. They became precious memories to you as you greeted Bloodhound at the door with a smile and a drink or food.

All you had to wonder was if they felt the same way.

The night before the season start was cold. The wintertime was rolling in, even to the city, and you made sure to keep the bar doors firmly closed the whole night and the heaters on. Even your washing robot complained about his coolants being far too cold. You shuddered in a jumper as you placed the last of the glasses away and peered at the clock. It was very late. A knock made you grin, even as your teeth attempted to chatter, and you headed to the small back door and unlocked the electronic system, smiling up at Bloodhound as they ducked a little to enter. Artur squawked on top of their head and you laughed as Bloodhound shook their head to make the Raven move.

“Good evening.” Bloodhound uttered, “Forgive me for being sudden, I know you have no said anything yet, but I have something to ask of you?” They asked in a rush, their voice betraying a small amount of urgency.

“Hi to you too.” You teased before stepping back to let them inside, “Sure. Is anything wrong?”

Bloodhound shook their head, “Nothing of the sort.” They promised before they reached to remove their hat, revealing a wrap of dark cloth hiding their hair and features from you still. They ducked their head and placed their hand over their heart, “Would you do me the honour of accompanying me out?”

It was very old fashioned, but you remembered that Bloodhound had grown up very isolated away from the normal city life and culture. A smile split your face before you could control yourself.

“You mean like on a date?” You asked curiously.

Bloodhound swallowed audibly, “If that is agreeable to you? If not, then you may forget that this ever occurred…”

“No!” You rushed to catch their gloved hand and smiled, “I would be honoured…But let me get a coat, okay? Its too cold to be outside without too many layers.”

“Of course. Take your time. We will have to travel by hover to get there.” Bloodhound nodded as they turned back to the door, “I will wait at the front.” They promised.

“Okay. I’ll not be long. I just have to get a coat and lock up.” You rushed into the back and up the stairs to your small flat over the top of the bar. After snatching a warm coat from its hook and you rushed back and helped your washing robot back into the charging point before locking all the doors. Eventually, you appeared out of the front door and looked at the hovering vehicle.

Bloodhound hopped from the vehicle and you looked at the old engines with a fond smile. It was similar to an ancient snowmobile, but it hovered above the ground with old technology, humming much louder than any of the newer modern models.

“I haven’t seen a mobile like this in a long time.” You nodded appreciatively of it.

“It is old, but she will get us to where we need to go.” Bloodhound promised with a soft chuckle, “It is up in the mountain.” They pointed up past the city outskirts to the mountain beyond, “The snow has fallen so we will need her to move through the terrain unhindered.” They stood by the side of the vehicle next to the back which was packed with fur and blankets. You smiled excitedly before you took hold of the hunter’s gloved hand and let them help you into the small back compartment. You sat carefully and laughed as Bloodhound flicked the hover mobile into action and punching the gas. The two of you streamed down the old roadways towards the outskirts, quickly leaving behind the blue light pollution as the fields turned into old pine trees.

The mountain was cold, and you laughed brightly again as Bloodhound engaged the snow skis and the hover vehicle sprayed snow either side of you both. It was exhilarating to be out of the pollution riddled, busy city, and be in the fresh air of the countryside. You held your head high in the fresh, cold air and watched Bloodhound navigate the mountain with ease, their shoulders relaxed as they handled the controls with small turns and touches. You looked at the ancient trees with awe.

“Do you come up here often?” You asked over the hum of the engine.

“Not often enough.” Bloodhound replied, their feet planted firmly as they made a sharp turn and revved the engine again, heading up towards a large rock platform jutting from the side of the mountain. You looked at the place and wondered if it was warm, as there was no snow covering the grey surface of the stone.

“Is that where we’re heading?” You shuffled in your seat to look over the side of the vehicle.

“Yes. We are almost there.” Bloodhound peered over their shoulder, orange goggles glinting in the small amount of light from the lamps they had on the front and back of the snowmobile, “Keep inside. Some rocks could catch you.” They scolded as you headed towards the platform with another grumble from the old engine.

“Careful. The snow hides holes and rocks.” Bloodhound jumped from the snowmobile before they held out their hand to help you out of the small seat in the back.

“Thank you.” You took their hand and hopped out before watching your breath steam in the air and laughing excitedly, rushing over the rocks to go and look out across the city below, “This is amazing!” You cried as Bloodhound dragged the blankets and a basket from the back of the vehicle, “How did you find this?”

“I have time to waste occasionally.” Bloodhound chuckled before they reached for another pack and you rushed to help, taking the large bundle of blankets to help them a little, “Thank you, krúttið mitt.”

“You still haven’t told me what that means.” You joked as you carried the blankets to the edge and unwrapped the cord which held them in a large roll.

Bloodhound placed the basket down before hefting the furs from their shoulder. They gazed over the mountain’s edge before replying, “It means something…like sweetheart.” They confessed in a hushed voice.

You looked at them and smiled, sensing their unease, “That’s adorable.”

“I am glad you like it.” Bloodhound returned in a rush before looking at the pile of blankets you had set out and dragging them out on top of one another, “I did…I thought it was perhaps stepping over a boundary?”

“You worry a lot, you know.” You joked as you sat over the blanket and accepted a heavy, outstretched fur, “I…I can’t hate it, because its from you, and you mean a lot to me Bloodhound.”

“I…” Bloodhound seemed stunned, “You mean more than you know to me.” They draped another fur over you before sitting close and peering down at you through their orange goggles. You took the initiative and tugged your own furs over Bloodhound’s lap before sitting closer. You were close enough to feel the heat from their covered skin, but you only smiled and took one of their hands, linking your fingers before you looked out at the city, far, far below, and listened to the peace around the two of you.

“I have brought food…like those…how do you say it. Picnics!” Bloodhound exclaimed softly as they dragged the basket over and squeezed at your hand, enjoying the contact even through their thick clothing.

“A picnic? What have you brought?” You asked as you leaned over Bloodhound’s lap to peer at the contents of the wicker basket. It was covered with a deep blue cloth and they dragged it away before revealing a small selection of food you had never seen before.

“They are delicacies from my home world.” Bloodhound pulled free a small jar and you recognised the pickled meat you had given them, “I thought it would be…nice to share them with you as I tell you a story. I had to spend a long time remembering this one.” They confessed as they pulled free a dense looking load of bread and a tub of butter, “If that is what you want?”

You tugged the furs closer and nodded as they sliced the bread on a plate and buttered you a piece, “Of course, you know I love the stories!” You gushed as you took the bread and took a bite, humming as Bloodhound fished you free a piece of meat and then showed you the mushrooms they had also covered in a form of sauce. It looked spicy and you gladly dug in as they cautiously reached for their respirator.

Their hands reached for the straps and you watched the elastics loosen as they pulled the clips free and the respirator fell away with a quiet whoosh of air, revealing their scarred lower face. They smiled at you, revealing a single point of one canine before they took a moment to get used to the mountain air.

“Does it not hurt?” You asked worriedly, “I know…”

Bloodhound held up their hand before they coughed a few times over their shoulder, “No. It takes some time to adjust. The fresh air is fine, but the city. The air there hurts.” Bloodhound’s fingers squeezed your hand again in comfort as they coughed a few more times before finally growing used to the unfiltered air.

“These mushrooms…I’m amazed!” You cooed to distract them, happy to see them smile again as you gobbled another, “I never thought you…”

“That pickled foods would taste good?” Bloodhound teased with a small wheeze, “I confess, I thought you would hate them. They are an acquired taste, krúttið mitt.” They took a small bite of bread before seeking a large piece of game and tearing it apart easily with pointed teeth, chewing quickly before the rest of the piece followed. You only continued to eat, waiting for them to start the tale you wanted to hear.

“Before there was day. Night ruled the frozen wastes.” Bloodhound started as they laid back, tugging you into the blankets so you could both gaze up at the bright stars hanging above the two of you, “There was a goddess of light, controlled by her ruler the Night, banished to a cage in the sky, twinkling in the halls of the Night as she wept tears of silver light from between the bars.” They gestured to the sky above, “She reached between the bars and begged the Night to let her free, to let her roam and dance across the night sky. He denied her, selfish and greedy for her light to himself. So bright was her light, he wanted to keep her beauty of silver flesh and hair for himself.” Bloodhound watched a start twinkle, “One day, the goddess wept again but she whispered to the tears as they dripped from her eyes, of the universe and adventure, of life and protection. The tears dripped from her cage and painted the halls with bright silver spots, blinding and glorious. Night returned to find her cage empty, the only remnants of his light the bright tears rolling from the stone and falling into the sky below, dancing over the blackness one by one, brightening the world with a glorious silver light. She danced that night, between her own tears, on pointed toes, jumping from light to light, causing the sky to twinkle with joy, even in the darkest of nights.” Bloodhound pointed to the North Star, “She wore a crown of stars, blessed in her freedom from her own tears, making constellations with her dances to defy the Night.”

You gazed in wonder at the sky, “What did they call this Goddess?”

Bloodhound chuckled, “Nothing. She was simply, the stars.” They gestured to the stars again, “I think there is beauty in that story. She was free with her own will to dance and defy all those that would work against her.” They sighed, “It was my favourite as a child.”

“I can see why. It is a beautiful tale.” You whispered, trying not to disturb the peace that had settled over the two of you, “Even if it started so sadly.”

“Not as wonderous as you.” Bloodhound whispered next to your ear as they turned their head, “I never thought the stories would pale in comparison, but the Gods seem an eon away when I gaze at you.” Carefully, they reached to remove their gloves before they shakily reached to touch at your cheek, brushing their fingertips gently over your cheekbone. Bloodhound’s mouth parted as they followed the trail with their eyes. Their calloused hands touched your cheek and gently traced a path over your nose and then down to your chin, leaving a streak of heat in their wake, “It is blasphemy but I…” They swallowed, “I believe I love you. We have spent so much time together and you consume my mind no matter the task I undertake.”

Fire laced your veins as you pulled the tracker forwards to press your lips to theirs, kissing their soft, scarred lips with fervour enough to demonstrate your point. Bloodhound was frozen for a moment before they returned the kiss, their arms wrapping around your back tightly as their goggles dug into the bridge of your nose. You didn’t mind. You pushed against them with a hum before moving away. Bloodhound tried to chase your lips, breathing a little heavier, a wheeze emanating from their chest.

“I love you too.” You whispered, cupping their cheeks.

Bloodhound smiled crookedly again before they reached up and pushed their goggles away. Their cloth dipped a little to reveal their bright ginger hair, tamed in braids and clasps, but you didn’t touch it, you simply looked into their deep, dark brown eyes, amazed by the mix of red in the colour. Their eyes were almost maroon. You kissed Bloodhound again.

“You…” They eased back, “You do not care that I am…”

“You are Bloodhound, master of the hunt and the one I love.” You gushed as you held them tightly, burying your face in their clothing, “Nothing else matters. We can take our time with everything else.”

“I…Thank you, krúttið mitt. You mean so much to me.” They confessed with another soft peck to your lips.

“I love you, Bloodhound.” You confessed again, affirming it even to yourself, as though it was not real.

“I love you too, my darling.” Bloodhound whispered against your ear as you clutched each other under the furs, laid before the night sky.

The Stars twinkled across the central belt as the Goddess danced for the happiness that she had witnessed that night.

#bloodhound x reader #bloodhound x gender neutral reader #bloodhound #apex legends #bloodhound apex #apex legends bloodhound #bloodhound apex legends #reader insert #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #gender neutral reader

142 notes · View notes

yikesharringrove · 3 years

Text

Show Pony

Chapter 3: Roses Are Falling

Read on Ao3

Steve’s hand was sweaty in Billy’s as he pulled him through the crowds in the fairground, ducking and weaving between the people milling about.

Billy let himself be dragged, staring at Steve’s ass in his little denim shorts.

It had been one week since their date at the diner.

A week of Billy showing up to the rodeo, watching Steve compete in his event, and making out with him behind the arena.

It was fun, sneaking around together in the blazing summer heat.

He had even brought Max a few times, letting her wander around with some chick her own age she met. Apparently, her dad works at the rodeo or someshit. Billy wasn’t listening when she explained. Steve had been across the arena, taking off his flannel shirt and trading it for another one of his slutty little crop tops.

It was a gorgeous show.

But Max was somewhere eating her body weight in funnel cake while Steve took him into a tent labeled Employees Only.

There was an eclectic group of people sitting at the long tables in the tent, all greeting Steve as he pulled Billy through to a group of younger people sitting together at the end of one of the tables.

Steve pushed Billy onto one of the benches, perching right on his lap like that was totally fine. Like it was easy for Billy to just. Keep his dick in check.

The girl sitting across from them sighed heavily, raising one eyebrow at Steve.

“Shut up, Robin.”

“I didn’t say anything,” she was still giving Steve a very pointed look.

“You don’t have to.” Steve slumped back against Billy’s chest, no doubt petulant.

She shook her head, finally addressing Billy.

“I’m Robin.”

“She does barrel racing,” Steve leaned back, muttering the information into Billy’s ear. His breath was hot against Billy’s skin, and Billy had to fight down a shiver that crept up his spine despite the blazing heat.

Another girl was sitting next to Robin, a pretty brunette with doe eyes to rival Steve’s. She seemed vaguely familiar.

And then it clicked.

“Aren’t you in the pageants?”

She laughed softly.

“My name’s Heather. And yes, I’m reigning Miss Rodeo USA, so I’ve been with these guys and will be until the next girl is crowned. It’s been a good time.” She glanced over at Robin, bumping their shoulders together. Billy raised one eyebrow at Robin, catching her eye and making her flush slightly. He shot her a quick wink.

Steve shifted in his lap, putting one arm over Billy’s shoulders, winding his fingers through his little ponytail.

“So, Billy,” Robin tried to move the conversation along, rolling her shoulders back. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All bad, I hope.”

“Nah, just, I feel like I know you quite well know. Like, really well. Like better than I ever wanted to know a guy-”

“Okay, yeah, Robin. We get it. Thanks.” Steve squirmed slightly in Billy’s lap, the back of his neck and the tips of his ears a bright red color. It was cute. Billy didn’t realize when Steve’s cheeks went all pink, that, other, places of him flushed too. He wondered how far down that rosy tint on Steve’s cheeks went. If it was all over his chest, if it leads down to his-

Nope. Not going there right now. Not when Steve is sitting on Billy’s lap, and they’re in fucking public. Absolutely not. No thanks. Billy’s fine.

Robin squinted at him, and he tried to keep his face as blank as possible.

Steve sighed heavily through his nose, shaking his head.

“I’m getting a pop. Anyone else?”

Robin waved him off, and he was gone with a roll of his eyes.

“So, you’re the poor San Diego bastard. My condolences.”

Billy squinted at her.

“Not sure what you mean.”

She took a deep breath, looking at Heather briefly.

“Look. You know this little fling is just that. A little fling. Steve, he kinda, does this. Finds someone in every place we’re stationed, and has a month-long something with them. He loves attention but he’s too scared of commitment to do anything else. And honestly, I’m saying this all for your sake, because I’ve seen people get attached. He’s gonna eat you alive, and then he’s gonna leave, and it’s easier for you if you know that going in.”

Robin’s words settled like a fucking pit in Billy’s stomach.

Because, yeah. He, like, kinda figured that. He knew their time was limited. Knew that Steve would slip through his fingers. And really, that was fine. Billy thinks he’d be the exact same way if the roles were reversed, that he would be constantly moving from one person to the next, never getting lonely, but never getting deep, either.

He understands the whole commitment-phobe thing. Kinda takes one to know one.

So he gets it.

Doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel like shit to have it put. So plainly.

“I’m sorry. That was probably too harsh but, you seem like a nice guy, and Steve doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s not trying to hurt people, he just, definitely uses the whole traveling rodeo thing to his advantage.”

“Nah, I get it. Really, I kinda figured it out. He said he likes to make friends wherever they are. So, it’s fine. And I think sometimes harsh can be alright.” He doesn’t wanna make Steve’s friend feel bad.

And really, he did know what they were doing and what this was about. It just sucks having it confirmed by someone else. And put. So plainly.

“I’m really not trying to be mean. I just kinda wanted to prepare you. If this is gonna be something that hurts, maybe it’s best to get out now.” Robin had very pretty blue eyes and freckles all over her face. She seemed warm, and the way she was staring at him was with so much concern.

“Thank you. I get it, honest. I’d probably act just the same if I were him.”

“If you were who?” Steve had returned, slapping a can of root beer on the table in front of them, taking a seat pressed as close as possible to Billy, lifting up his arm to slide underneath it.

“Quit being nosy.” Robin reached out to muss up Steve’s hair, poking him in the forehead. “What are you two doing today?”

Steve shrugged, taking the bait and moving on.

“Wander the grounds. Maybe hang out at my place.” Billy’s interest piqued. He had no idea Steve had a place. “Might sneak out and go for a drive or something. You got any preference?” Steve leaned over the table, resting his elbows on top, placing his face in his hands, turning to look at Billy.

“We could kick around here. I gotta drive Max home later so we should probably stick around.” Steve grinned at him.

“Well, c’mon then. You’ve got plenty to see around here.”

Billy felt like Steve has already dragged through the entire grounds, he doesn’t know how there’s more to see.

But it turned out there’s a lot more. Because Steve’s place, as it turns out, is one in a huge crowd of trailers.

It was kinda out of Billy’s wildest imagination. Like what he’d picture an old-school traveling circus to be like.

People were milling around everywhere, Steve saying hi to almost everyone they passed. Animals were being led to and from the large arena and the makeshift paddocks that were set up in the open grass.

It was like nowhere Billy’s ever been before.

Steve led him through the maze of trailers to a smaller version of an old school Airstream near the back of the lot, still hitched up to the back of a much larger, and very nice-looking, RV.

Stevie Harrington was painted in curling dark green letters on the rounded metal door, a little cow munching on some grass painted below it.

“That your art?”

Steve snorted.

“ God, no. Robin did it for me a few years ago. That’s why it looks good.”

The hinges on the door squealed when he pulled it open and led Billy inside.

It was hot in the airstream, and Steve turned on the solar power to get a small fan moving air through the place, propping open the door and the tiny window above the table.

“Home sweet traveling home.”

“Damn. This ain’t too bad of a setup.”

It really wasn’t. Sure, it was small, but it was perfect for one person. A tiny kitchenette faced the minuscule bathroom. The far sides of the trailer were taken up by a dining area, a table with booth-like seating, and a queen-sized bed taking up the opposite side, a small closet smushed between the bed and the kitchen.

It was immaculately clean, not totally what Billy had expected from Steve. The bed was made, an old-looking, worn-out stuffed horse placed neatly in front of the pillows.

There were pictures pinned up on little string light clothespins on the wall the bed was shoved against, and Steve even had a few posters over the booth seats.

“It’s kinda nice. I saved up for a while to buy it. It’s kind of a lot being trapped in an RV with your parents, let me tell you. I’m still hooked up to theirs, and when we move I ride with them, usually, but at least I’ve got some space to myself.” Steve looked down at his feet. “Plus, I kinda figured, this is about as close as I’ll ever come to living on my own.”

“I really do like it. You’ve made it real nice in here.”

Steve looked back up to him, smiling proudly.

“We don’t have to like, hang out in here. I just thought I’d welcome you in. To like, say, you know, if you’re ever around but don’t wanna hang out doing the same rodeo shit all the time, we could, like, spend some time in here.” Steve’s cheeks were going red.

And Billy was fairly certain he knew where this was going.

So he took the metaphorical bull by the horns, and wrapped his fingers in Steve’s literal belt loops, and pulled him close enough that their lips could touch.

And apparently, Billy was right. Because Steve kissed him back immediately, and fervently, sliding his arms over Billy’s shoulders and pressing into him enough to move Billy back a few steps until his knees hit the bed, and he fell to sit on it.

Steve wasted no time climbing on his lap, kneeling straddling Billy, pressed together as close as possible.

Steve broke the kiss, his chest heaving as he breathed heavily and Billy attached himself to Steve’s neck, leaving wet kisses in his path down the long column of his throat.

“God, fuck. Can we-”

“ Yeah. Yeah, Baby,” Billy was breathless as he replied, getting both hands under Steve’s ass and flipping their position in one fluid motion, getting Steve on his back, his legs wrapped around Billy’s waist.

“Get the door.”

Billy pressed a long sucking kiss to Steve’s neck before pulling away, slamming the door closed as Steve drew the blinds on the window above the bed and turned on the air conditioning unit in the ceiling.

“It’s gonna get super fucking hot in here if we fuck.”

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

Steve laughed at Billy, rolling back to lay properly on the bed, taking his stuffed horse and tossing it on the table behind Billy.

“I don’t want her to have to see this.”

“Fine by me.” Billy was back on him in a second, pushing his hands up Steve’s shirt, yanking it off him as fast as possible.

Steve was so fucking gorgeous.

He had a light tan all over his body, with definite paler parts where his shirts usually sit.

And he was fit. His muscles weren’t as bulky as Billy’s, but he was obviously strong.

Billy leaned over him, tasting the salt on his skin as Steve began fumbling with the buttons of Billy’s shirt, pushing it off his shoulders so roughly one of the shoulder seams groaned, threatening to rip.

Billy took that as his cue to pull away from Steve again, shedding his shirt and kicking off his shoes, helping Steve out of his little short shorts.

He was wearing this excellent pair of boots, deep red with white embroidered stitching covering the boot.

Steve leaned forward, moving to pull off the boots.

“Wait, no. Leave ‘em on.”

Steve looked at him.

“You call me a hick all the fuckin’ time, and now you’re here saying you wanna fuck me in my boots.”

“It’s hot. You’re like the chick from Footloose .”

“Aren’t you gay?”

“Hot is hot, Steve.”

Steve huffed a laugh, putting his leg back down, letting Billy settle between both of them.

“So, are we gonna talk about the girl in an eighties movie, or are you going to fuck me through this mattress?”

“Alright, bossy. You got lube?”

Steve huffed, poking Billy’s chest until he moved off him.

Steve sat up, crawling to the end of the bed, digging through the laundry in the hamper for the bottle of lube.

Billy stared at him.

Mostly, he was just staring at his asshole. It was so perfect and pink, and looked buttery and soft.

And Jesus, he really just wanted to lick it, to get his face buried between Steve’s cheeks and go to town on the pretty pink furl of muscle.

And, well, what’s stopping him?

Absolutely nothing.

He got up, following Steve’s path until he was behind him, taking each cheek in one hand.

Steve froze where he was digging through the laundry, Billy’s breath puffing between his cheeks.

“What are you-”

And then Billy licked up his crack, his tongue dragging all the way up from his balls, flicking once against his hole.

“ Billy .” Steve spread his legs, pushing his hips back into Billy’s face, wordlessly asking for more.

So Billy gave it to him.

He opened his mouth, licking all around his rim, pressing his tongue just slightly inside, sucking on the soft pink flesh, making Steve’s breath hitch and whines pour out of his mouth.

“Fuck, you’re good at that.”

Billy responded by pulling back, and spitting on Steve’s hole.

Steve was taken by surprise, if his soft gasp was anything to go by. He dropped his head against the bed, biting onto the blanket.

Billy just kept going, using his lips and tongue and teeth, opening him up and getting him wet.

“Fuck, Billy, please just fuck me. I want you so bad .” Steve’s voice was pitchy and breathy, muffled in the blanket.

He was grinding his hips forward and back, pressing himself against Billy’s tongue.

Like he wanted nothing more than he wanted Billy’s tongue in his ass right then.

And Billy certainly wasn’t complaining, not at how fucking nice and soft his asshole was against his tongue, how he tasted kinda clean and kinda musky at the same time. It was heady and Billy would happily spend the rest of his stupid life with his face buried between Steve’s cheeks.

Something smacked against the top of Billy’s head, and he pulled away briefly to find a bottle of lube on the bed, the one that Steve had no doubt tossed over his shoulder and accidentally accosted Billy with.

“That fuckin’ hit me in the head, you piece a’ shit.”

“I don’t care,” Steve whined, pushing his hips back even further, spreading himself out more and more for Billy to hungrily take in. “Just finger me and fuck me !”

“Bossy.”

Steve huffed, shifting his head around until he could look back at Billy, his brows pinched in a little scowl, giving Billy a dirty look that was equal parts adorable pout and sexy scowl. He looked like the grumpiest little slut.

And Billy indulged him, squeezing out a big glob of lube, meticulously coating his first two fingers with it.

“I know what I like, and I get what I like.”

“Jesus, I thought all them girls were the rodeo queens. Not you .”

“I’m the queen of getting my fucking way. Now for the love of God, put your fingers in me.”

And Billy couldn’t do anything but indulge him.

He began with just one finger, sliding it slowly and deliberately down to the last knuckle.

Steve sighed as Billy’s finger entered him, relaxing his upper body into the bed, somehow canting his hips up even more, his back arched as much as Billy’s ever fuckin’ seen.

So Billy took a chance, pumping his finger in and out a few times, pulling it nearly all the way out, only to replace it with both fingers. He moved slowly, simply fucking Steve with his fingers for a moment, watching Steve as he crooked his fingers downward.

And Steve moaned, and it was like he became a puddle. All his muscles relaxing and unwinding as Billy curled his fingers, pressing deeply against his prostate, rubbing tiny circles into the small bundle of nerves.

“God, Bill. That feels so fucking good,” Steve said through a throaty moan. Billy was slowly moving his fingers in and out of Steve, pressing down into that wonderful spot each time he was buried all the way to the knuckle. “Add another. Please, I want you in me.”

Billy had to palm himself to relieve some of the pressure of his own dick, flushed red and oh so painful where it was hard against his stomach.

But he did as Steve told him to do, drawing out his two fingers to press in a third.

There was something of a shift in the sticky airstream. As those three thick fingers sank into Steve, it was as though both boys agreed to move faster. Steve began pushing his hips back and forth, fucking himself on Billy’s fingers, matching the steady pace Billy had set with his hand.

Billy was tugging his fingers in and out, pushing into Steve’s prostate with each movement, the lube creating a squelching noise as they picked up the pace.

And finally, Steve had enough.

He moved his hips forward, sitting back on his heels to look at Billy over his shoulder.

His face was flushed, his bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat, his pupils blown wide, making his already dark eyes seem nearly black. He tossed Billy a condom, and Billy caught it against his heaving chest.

Steve’s breath caught as Billy ripped open the condom wrapper with his teeth, looking like some kinda fuckin’ animal, rolling it onto himself with a practiced hand.

“Billy, I fucking want you-”

Billy cut him off by pressing himself against Steve’s back, kissing him harshly as he felt him up, his hands roving, touching every bit of Steve he could possibly manage.

Steve had his own mission, reaching awkwardly behind him to take Billy’s stiff cock in hand, fumbling slightly as he lined up the flushed head of his dick with his slicked-up hole, teasing himself before urging Billy to push on in.

Their lips lost touch from one another the second Billy began moving his hips forward, their moans mingling in the space between them.

“God, fuck, Stevie.” Billy could hardly control himself. He so wanted to let loose, start fucking wildly into the tight heat of Steve’s body, take him as hard and fast as possible.

He let his hands drop down and settle on Steve’s hips. He could feel the firm muscles tensing under his hands, like Steve was barely keeping himself from rocking back to fuck himself harder and faster on Billy’s cock.

And that’s what pushed Billy over the edge.

He pushed Steve forward until he was back in position, face down, ass up. His hands gripped Steve��s hips hard enough to leave bruises, and Jesus, Billy hoped to fucking God Steve had dark marks in the shape of Billy’s fingers for days and days. And he let himself go for it.

Steve was making these breathy, punched-out noises, like with every harsh thrust of Billy’s hips, all the air in his lungs was being forced right out of him.

Billy was slamming them together, pulling Steve’s hips back as he surged his own forward, pulling out almost entirely each time. He was relentless, taking Steve like a goddamn animal right there on the once neat bed.

Neither of them was going to last long, they both knew it.

Billy had taken so much time opening Steve up with his lips and tongue and fingers, Steve wouldn’t even be shocked if he came completely untouched, falling apart with only the attentions Billy has granted to his hole.

Until Billy reached around him with his left hand, still gripping Steve’s body with his right.

He took hold of Steve’s leaking cock, brushing his thumb over the slit to collect some of the glistening precum, drawing his hand tightly down the shaft, moving at an agonizingly slow pace compared to the buck of his hips, keeping Steve on the edge of something, making everything way too much and definitely not enough.

And there was nothing Steve could do.

He felt fucking helpless as Billy pounded him. It was taking all his energy not to just melt into the mattress at this point and let Billy have his way with him.

But Billy was getting close, too close to keep this game up for much longer.

He sped up the movement of his hand, his fist beginning to pump faster and faster over Steve’s aching cock. He wanted him to finish first, wanted to watch as Steve writhed and moaned about.

It didn’t take long. Less than a minute of Billy jerking Steve as quick and rough as he was fucking him, and Steve was spilling out onto the blanket below him, nearly yelling out while his hips convulsed and his fingers twisted until he had a white knuckle grip on the blanket.

Billy could only just hang on, fuck and jerk Steve through it, only letting his grip on his cock go a little slack when Steve finally relaxed a bit below him.

Billy pulled out, snapping off the condom and taking his dick in hand, finishing himself off all over Steve’s lower back, watching his thick cum drip down the slope of his ass.

“ Fuck. You’re so hot,” Billy said, totally in awe. Steve was even hotter than normal wearing nothing but his bright red boots and Billy’s spunk.

Billy took a cloth from the tiny bathroom, getting it a little wet to wipe the cum off of Steve as he lay stretched like a cat on the small bed.

“Thank God I don’t have to ride tomorrow, I don’t think I’ll be able to sit, let alone get in a saddle.” He threw a wink over his shoulder at Billy, bending his knees to let his feet kick up behind him, crossing his ankles in the red boots.

“We should make the best of our good fortune, then. I’ve got a few more rounds in me.”

“Billy Hargrove, you fuckin’ devil .”

#yikes writes #show pony #lemons #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #rodeo au

47 notes · View notes

cobaltusami · 3 years

Text

Tropical Vacation pt. 1

Hey hi hello! So I'm going to be starting to post the 50 follower special over the course of this week, I have proof read 10,000 words worth of writing so hopefully by the time I have all the parts already written posted, I'll have the rest of it done or almost done!

There aren't any real tickles In this part because I was setting up for the rest of the story, but there's a close encounter near the end. Next part will have lots of tickles!

Characters In this part: Makoto, Leon, Mondo, Chihiro, Taka, Sakura, Hina, Hiro, Celeste, Kyoko

Words: 1,944

PT 1: [You are here.], PT 2: [Click here.]

It was a normal day In Hope’s peak academy-- If there was ever such a thing. The students were gathered In the dining hall eating breakfast as they normally do and chatting amongst themselves.

The energy was pretty calm today, Hiro cheerfully pointed out upon arriving, only to be told not to jinx them.

But alas, all good things must come to an end.

“Hey, do you hear something?” Makoto asked hesitantly. Kyoko nodded and closed her eyes momentarily, focusing on the odd sound.

“It sounds like… Ocean waves.” She concluded, her lavender eyes scanning the room curiously.

“Ocean waves? Why would we be hearing the ocean?” Makoto pondered aloud.

“Hina, Is that not what It sounds like to you?” Kyoko asked the swimmer, who had perked up at the mention of the ocean.

“You’re totally right! I hear It too!” She agreed.

Leon looked to his left where a speaker was attached to a support beam. “It’s coming from over here. Don’t tell me, Monokuma…” he trailed off with a heavy sigh.

As if he were Beetlejuice and his name had been mentioned 3 times, a wild Monokuma appeared from out of seemingly nowhere. “I thought you students might benefit from a change in scenery! I wouldn’t want you getting TOO depressed, You might get too depressed to kill anyone!”

The whole room heaved a collective sigh. “For the last fuckin’ time, We aren’t going to kill one another! So you can go fuck yourself!” Mondo snapped.

“But Robots don’t have the right parts for that!” Monokuma retorted, looking dejected. “How could you be so cruel? Pointing out my insecurities like that…”

“Yeah yeah, This Is great banter and all but--” Leon wasn’t about to sit through another hour of Mondo and Monokuma going back and forth, not after the last time. “What the hell do you mean, ‘Change of scenery’?”

“Good question, Kirishima!” Monokuma responded. “Oh, Whoops, Wrong series!”

“Has Monokuma finally lost it?” Hiro whispered. “What’s he talking about? Series?”

“I dunno... Did Monokuma ever have It to begin with, Man?” Leon whispered back.

“Anyway!” Monokuma cleared his nonexistent throat. “I thought I would liven your surroundings up with some ambience for a while, What do you think? Pretty realistic huh? You can practically feel the ocean breeze right?”

Makoto exchanged glances with Kyoko, not trusting this little shit for a second. “That’s It?”

“What? Were you expecting more?” Monokuma asked, tilting his head.

“There’s not going to be like a shark In the pool or anything… Right? This is it?” Hina asked hesitantly.

“Don’t give him ideas.” Makoto said, exasperated.

“Eh? Why would I do that? I want you to kill each other, Not become shark bait!” The bear retorted. “If you don’t believe me, go check around the school. I don’t have time to explain my feng shui to you, I have places to be!”

As abruptly as he appeared, He disappeared In an annoyed huff. Leaving the dining hall confused.

“So, Does everyone else think he’s using paranoia as a motive again or Is It just me?” Leon asked in a deadpan tone, a few students nodded in agreement.

“I for one would welcome a change in pace! Perhaps he is legitimately concerned for our mental health!” Taka spoke up. “We should absolutely check out the school after breakfast to see what’s changed!”

“T-Taka… Bro…” Mondo sighed. “Monokuma don’t give a shit about us, This Is obviously a trick.”

“What did he mean by that?” Chihiro asked quietly. “He has places to be?”

“He was probably just bullshitting us as usual.” Leon replied.

Kyoko hummed quietly, skeptical. She had also caught that unusual dialog line.

“Let us finish breakfast and then go look around.” Celeste suggested, taking a sip of her tea.

Everyone agreed and the energy of the room returned to It’s previous lightheartedness.

Upon exiting the room afterwards, the students noticed inflatable palm trees and random piles of sand scattered across the common area.

Makoto stared at the ‘decor’ In awkward silence, there’s no way it could be this harmless… right?

“It appears as though Monokuma really did do some redecorating…” Kyoko hummed thoughtfully, though not fully convinced of the remodel either.

“It’s…” Hina trailed off, an inflatable Monokuma wearing a grass skirt catching her eye.

“Tacky?” Leon suggested, kicking one of the Monokuma decorations out of his way.

She eyed a giant inflatable flamingo as she replied. “Kind of cute? I mean, At least It’s different.”

“Different, It certainly Is…” Sakura mumbled, sticking by Hina’s side just in case any of these inflatable beach toys decided to spring to life like Monokuma and try to attack the Swimmer.

“I think It looks fuckin’ stupid!” Mondo scoffed.

“Not just that, Monokuma has completely made a mess with all of this sand everywhere!” Taka seemed more outraged about the mess than the ominous looming threat.

“Sakura-- Look at that!” Hina pointed excitedly at a massive flamingo floaty. You could literally fit multiple people on it. “It’s so cute! I’m so gonna put this in the pool!”

“Hina, What do you need an inflatable this large for?” Sakura sighed. “You don’t even use them.”

“So that we can both chill on it together and pretend we’re at the beach, Duh!” Hina giggled, The martial artist couldn’t help but smile and shake her head at that.

She was about to say something in response but felt something light land on her head, She instinctively grabbed it and inspected it. It was a pink lei. “What the… Where did this come from?”

“The fuck?” Mondo grabbed a blue lei off of his shoulder.

Hina perked up as a yellow lei landed in her hands. She looked up in the direction It came from to see Chihiro standing atop a massive duck floaty that was similar in size to the flamingo. In their hands they had several more lei’s.

“Chihiro, where did you find those? These are so cute!” Hina squealed, happily putting the lei on.

Chihiro giggled. “I found them sitting in a box next to the door.” They replied, smiling.

Sakura and Mondo both looked up at Chihiro in silence for a moment as they both processed what they were looking at. But once they did…

“CHI!” Mondo yelled, alarmed.

“Chihiro!” Sakura gasped.

“Y-Yeah?” Chihiro asked meekly, startled by the unusual reaction from their friends.

“What are you doing up there??”

“Get down from there right now before ya fall and hurt yourself!”

“What are they now, Chihiro’s parents?” Leon asked, exasperated.

“I mean, If I had to pick anyone here to be my parents, I’d pick these two.” Makoto chuckled quietly.

Chihiro frowned and went to climb off of the duck’s head but they stumbled and squeaked as they went crashing towards the floor.

Mondo dove for the small programmer but Sakura had already seen they were gonna fall so she had taken off in their direction.

Sakura managed to catch them in her arms but didn’t anticipate Mondo also diving for them, she figured Mondo would have seen she was already on it but evidently not.

Mondo ended up colliding with Sakura and the two went tumbling to the floor, luckily Chihiro hadn’t been collateral because Sakura had just put them down.

“OW FUCK!”

“Ugh…”

Leon and Hiro both cracked up laughing at the two, but quickly stopped when Taka and Hina sent them death glares.

Mondo laid there, winded. His upper half was draped across Sakura, She had tried to catch him to break his fall but underestimated how much momentum he’d built up and they both ended up hitting the floor a few times whilst they tumbled.

“Oh no! Are you guys okay?!” Chihiro gasped, rushing over to them with teary eyes. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t think anyone would get hurt!”

“Hurt? Who says... we’re hurt?” Mondo tried to put the programmer at ease, mustering up a lopsided grin. “I’m fine, what about you Sakura?”

She was silent for a moment, Most likely also winded from hitting the floor so hard.

“Sakura?” Mondo repeated, pushing himself up off of her, his hand brushing against her side. Her eyes snapped open, suddenly very alert as she jerked upwards into a sitting position.

“Y-Yes. I’m fine too.” She blushed, her arms wrapping around herself self consciously.

Mondo made a confused face. “What’s wrong? Ya hit your head?”

“No, I… Nevermind.”

Chihiro’s face scrunched with confusion too as they replayed what had just happened in their head. Then they realized. “Ohh! I think I know!”

“What Is It?” The Biker asked, turning his head to look at the small student.

“I-It’s nothing. I suppose I’m just a little bit winded from you landing on me.” She said calmly, her face unreadable.

“Well… That could be too…” They mumbled, thinking over It more carefully.

Suddenly, Hina began laughing, as she had apparently figured out what happened. “Oh my god! Mondo! Dude she--”

“Hina!” Sakura interjected quickly, sensing danger. “Don’t even think about It!”

“Will someone just tell me what the fuck is going on!?” Mondo snapped.

“I can’t say It, Because Sakura might kill me If I do.” Hina snickered.

Chihiro sat down next to the Martial artist. “Are you hurt…?” they asked quietly, putting their hand carefully on her side.

She flinched visibly and looked at the small student, blushing. “N-No. I’m fine, Really.” she tried to reassure them. Because she was too busy worrying about Chihiro, she didn’t catch the look of realization across Mondo’s face. Ohhh and the evil grin that followed…

“Sakura, Don’t tell me…” Mondo grinned as the white haired student looked back at him. “Are you ticklish?”

She recognized the almost predatory look in his eyes, and quickly put distance between them by backing up then rising to her feet. “No.” she responded In a serious tone.

Mondo stood up and was slowly advancing towards the slightly nervous woman. “I think you’re lying~”

“Taka!” Sakura said suddenly. “I think Mondo’s bleeding.”

“What!?” Taka was quickly in front of his Kyoudai, checking him for injuries, also effectively standing in his way.

“Wh-what? No-- Taka I’m fine! She’s tricking you!” Mondo stammered, incredulous that Taka would fall for such an obvious trick.

“Trick or not, I need to make sure you’re okay!”

This gave Sakura a chance to get away from the biker, sneaking past back to the safety of her room.

Once Taka was sure that Mondo wasn’t bleeding, he backed off. “Ogami! This isn’t fuckin’ over!” He called down the hall in vain.

“I believe It Is!” She called back, Hina was nearly on the floor laughing her ass off.

“S-Sorry Kyoudai…” Taka meekly apologized.

Mondo sighed. “It’s fine. You were just worried.”

Taka was about to say something else but felt a lei being placed around his neck, he looked down at it in surprise. It was red to match his eyes. “Ch-Chihiro?” he stammered, turning around to face the Programmer.

“I saved the red one for you, there was only one in the box and I thought it would look the best on you.” They smiled.

Taka teared up at the kind gesture. “Th-Thank you! I shall treasure this for as long as I shall live!”

Chihiro giggled as they hugged the strict student, making him even more teary as he returned the hug.

“Using Taka against Mondo to escape Is really smart…” Leon said quietly to Makoto and Hiro.

“Yeah, How come we never thought of that?” Hiro replied.

“That would require you all to have a functioning brain in your heads.” Celeste smiled as they gave her pointed looks.

Kyoko smirked at this, apparently agreeing with Celeste’s sentiment.

#danganronpa tickle #Almost Lee!Sakura #Mondo Is a lil shit #Chihiro Is too pure--#Hiro and Leon are my last two braincells I swear...

27 notes · View notes

shoichee · 4 years

Text

Phantom Thieves of Hearts in KNB

Persona 5 x Kuroko no Basket crossover

[knb x s/o reader]

Headcanons on how KNB characters find out you were a member of the Phantom Thieves + what they do afterwards

Warning: very very brief mention of harassment/assault | mild spoilers up to Haru/mild insinuations of Akechi | mild spoilers of KNB’s “Last Game” movie

Part 2 is here! Part 3 is here!

Kuroko Tetsuya

you two started dating for a while, but recently, Kuroko began to notice out how you always seem to weasel your way out of group hangouts or turn down after school dates with him or just altogether disappeared without a trace/word

“Um, do you want to eat together at Maji Burger after school today?”

“Wahhh! I’m so sorry, Tetsu!” you hugged your boyfriend with regret before declining. “I already have plans today…”

or that one time when school ended and right when he turned to ask you if you wanted to walk home together, you were just… gone

you were becoming a Kuroko and he was worried

he tried to ask you about your behaviors but you always brushed him off or deflected the subject elsewhere

while he figured that he should wait before you were ready to tell him, he grew antsier as you grew busier and busier and had no time left for the two of you to hang out beyond just class

one day he decided to follow you using his lack of presence and unknowingly walked into the metaverse along with you

but he then sees your attire changed,

then some other people in costumes,

and weird monsters—

he was just standing behind a pillar the entire time and was waiting for the perfect time to go and confront you when you and the strange group encountered a hostile group of shadows and started battling like pros

his eyes were on you the entire time like: 👁🕳👁

you were so graceful, yet so fierce, and so badass—

after the whole battle, he sneaked up to you and tapped your shoulder for you to whirl around in complete shock

the other PT members were just as baffled about where he came from

Ryuji: “Quick, he’s an effin’ enemy shadow!”

Ann: “Ugh, Ryuji! Be quiet!”

Futaba: “Stuuuuupid, if he was a shadow I would’ve already alerted everyone.”

after Kuroko explains how he came over because he was worried about you as your boyfriend, everyone was gushing (Ryuji was salty that he doesn’t have a girlfriend still, and Yusuke was elated to have found his next art models)

after being sworn to secrecy and lowkey threatened by Haru and Makoto, Kuroko supports you from the shadows (ha ha, get it?)

he asks Riko to teach him how to do massages so he can massage your sore muscles after a rough metaverse run

it gives him more excuses to be with you and touch you and pamper you to his heart’s content

he may or may not have used massage times as an excuse to cuddle and smooch your neck and back

he sometimes asks you what his own “heart” looks like, and you assure him that he doesn’t have a palace because he’s the purest being ever

he pays more attention to the news regarding the PT and gets really worried when even the politicians get involved (you had to reassure him constantly)

he vibes super well with Joker because they’re the silent protagonists™️ with a sassy streak sometimes

he definitely bullies Ryuji, I can feel it

you actually teach him some of your own signature moves to help Kuroko develop new trump cards in future games (especially against Touou Academy)

he teaches you how to diminish your presence to sneak up on shadows even better than Joker’s ambushing

Kiyoshi Teppei

this sweet man is so attentive to you and your needs, even if you didn’t ask anything of him

so when you came to watch the game between Seirin and Kirisaki Daiichi, you were livid

he did not deserve this

even if you hated to watch the game, you stayed until the end, and after, you rushed to the lockers to check up on him

“Teppei! You idiot!” you were already tearing up. “You’re okay, right?”

you were holding his limbs and checking out all the wounds he was sporting

even when your boyfriend assured you, it went in one ear out the other

you were boiling in anger

he pinched your cheek

“I’m okay, (y/n).”

you grumbled and hesitatingly dropped the subject but that didn’t mean you wanted to drop the matter entirely

especially since you had the power to change other people’s hearts and their actions

but you didn’t want to bring it up to your PT members, since at first seemed more of a personal problem within the basketball matches rather than a widespread societal problem

that is, until Ryuji brought up that their own school’s basketball team got extremely roughed up and injured a couple weeks ago, but there were finally news of it coming out because the school tried to keep it quiet (but several students finally leaked the news out)

you then tentatively brought up about Seirin’s recent match

all of you guys did further research on the Kirisaki Daiichi basketball team’s history and you all found out how every basketball team they went against had their aces severely injured or taken out

time to change some hearts

mainly, the Kirisaki Daiichi starter players

luckily for you, Riko ordered Teppei to stay home for at least a few days to rest up before coming back to school, so you were free to do some thievery

you still visited Teppei’s home once or twice and brought snacks and balms (his grandparents love you)

so off the Phantom Thieves went, and you guys all went to work changing five hearts back to back

holy shit, their shadows in Mementos were just as brutal, all of them having their own special foul play or bad attitudes in some type of way even in combat (Yamazaki was the one who didn’t use foul play, but he had brute strength)

the PT succeeded in changing their hearts but got dark bruises and deep cuts in exchange

you in particular had it the worst

you took it upon yourself to play decoy/bait for all the shadows’s battles separately to let the other members finish it all of with All-Out-Attacks for each of them

you chuckled to yourself at how deja vu it all was to you, and you now kinda see what Teppei was talking about when he was willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of his friends

Haru was trying to wrap bandages on your forearms and lower biceps while Ann was applying alcohol to cuts on your legs and a few on your face

when you were treated, you were mostly fine, save for a few blue bruises peeking through everywhere and the abundance of white wraps around your limbs and a bandage or two plastered across your cheek

Joker ordered you to stay home for the next week, and you were fine with it; it would be way too suspicious to show up to school looking completely beaten up

so you were just chilling on the couch, flinching every now and then when your skin brushes over the fabric a little too fast or when your wounds touch anything, to be honest

meanwhile, Teppei was still at home recovering, but he pushed himself to at least be able to go to school starting the next day

day 2 crawled by, and now you’re really feeling the injuries now; everything was beyond sore and that didn’t even account for the natural exhaustion your body felt from coming back after a metaverse trip

in other words, you got double whammied and your body ached to move

you weren’t immobilized but you really preferred to sleep it off all day

you knew that at this time, Teppei would probably push himself to go to school today to see you, so you sighed before you reached for your phone

you texted Riko to tell Teppei that you had gotten sick IF he asked about you; you didn’t want to text Teppei directly because you knew he would immediately come over to your house and then see you in your state, but not letting anyone know where you were would send your poor boyfriend in a panic

you also didn’t want him to worry about you when he had his own body to worry about first

second day passed by without much incident surprisingly, and so you decided to check your phone to see a text from Riko from earlier:

I told Teppei not to bother you or visit you because you needed to recover without any distractions, and him coming over or texting you would just make you not get the rest you needed. Hope you get better soon!

Riko, the MVP

today’s the third day, and your wounds were still so obvious; Joker was right, you were gonna need at least a week

but being absent for a week was also suspicious in itself for student attendance

you heard a distinct knock knock on your house door and you knew you couldn’t avoid Teppei any longer

you shuffled yourself to the door, muttering a few curses of pain here and there before you quietly clicked the door open

when Teppei saw you littered in injuries, he was at first shocked, then confused, then heartbroken that you hid this all from him, and then furious

“Who did this to you?”

“I—uhhhhhhhhh—”

“... Why’d you hide this from me?”

he pushed the door further and let himself in, ignoring your weak protests

he gently scoops you up, gives you a forehead kiss, and walks you over to your room to gently place you on the edge of the bed; he settles himself on the floor beneath you

he looks up at you imploringly to tell him, his arms reaching up with his abnormally large hands to cup your cheeks, thumbing the bandaid on your cheek

“Please… tell me.”

he never uses pleas in these sorts of contexts because he’d feel like he would be pressuring/coercing you into doing something you weren’t comfortable with, but when he did, you knew he was serious, and your resolve easily crumbled

so you spent the rest of the day telling about your double life as the Phantom Thief while he hugged you from behind with his chin on your head

when you finished explaining the basic concepts and the steps to change a heart, Teppei grew silent until he said:

“You still haven’t told me where you got the bruises from.”

“Huh? Didn’t I just tell you that we have to literally battle shadow monsters to change people’s hearts?”

Teppei hums but he taps on the bandaid on your cheek

“You sound like you’ve been doing this for a while, yet this is the first time where you went absent from school, let alone sustain injuries to this degree.”

Shit, you were going to leave out stuff regarding the Kirisaki Daiichi, but sometimes, you forget that Teppei is actually quite sharp despite his oblivious demeanor

so you shyly confessed the rest of the events you hid from him, afraid of how he’ll react once he hears what they did in combat

“I see…” he trailed off, and you held your breath

“And from what you said, they’ll change?...”

you nodded and said, “They won’t be terrorizing any more basketball teams with their dirty plays.”

“That’s a relief,” he sighed. “Although…

I don’t like the idea of you being hurt by their hands.”

“Glad to know our feelings are mutual,” you dryly replied.

he gave a hearty laugh for the first time that day

“I guess so.”

first operation of business once you mostly recovered was to tell the PT that your boyfriend knew and how he came to know about them; everyone took it rather well once you explained yourself and trusted you to keep Teppei in check

thankfully, you don’t get those awful wounds again, but once in a while, when you do come in with a nasty bruise or two, Teppei comes into your house with takeout food and applies a bunch of ice packs for you

Aomine Daiki

you were really good at sports

like... really good at it

sometimes during PE, you would do random trickshots with the ball in the respective sport for the day, or you would do a rather skillful maneuvering to dodge incoming balls from other players, and Aomine LOVED watching his little significant other wiping the floor with your classmates

he, being way too excited at the possibility that you might actually be a challenge for him, challenged you to a one-on-one in basketball

on the street court, you moved as if you were one with the ball, guiding its course as you ducked under his protruding arm, sidestep him as you predicted his change of pace, doing really elaborate spins as you avoided him with ease

were you striking flamboyant poses every time you made a hoop??

he obviously won, but you gave him way too much trouble for someone who he hardly ever saw play basketball

“hey, were you secretly practicing basketball for years and you just never told me?”

you just shrugged and said that you sometimes played for fun with your relatives, but even Aomine, who’s a general idiot, didn’t 100% buy that reasoning

he first thought you were just a Kise 2.0 who had the natural talent to copy and learn from people really fast… but the more he thought about it, the more it didn’t make any sense

where the fuck would you copy a spin-duck-juke-flip combo move? those movements were nowhere close to the orthodox forms of any sport

one day, while he was still thinking about you on the rooftop, he called Momoi

“Oi, Satsuki, research up my (y/n), yeah?”

after being startled out of her wits that he directly asked her for a favor, she went right to work, closely examining you during PE for the next few days

meanwhile, Aomine has just been poking and prodding about where you learned those moves (spoiler alert: he was clinging onto you and draping his lanky arms all over you to get you to fess up)

Momoi’s results: you were extremely agile and nimble like Aomine but you had a huge streak in creativity and craftiness, especially when outsmarting your “opponent”

you were pretty good at balancing your phantom thief life, love life, and school life (you always finished up homework during school, Aomine always naps up the rooftop in the evening and you had the free time to leave for your PT time)

however, when Aomine started getting clingier because he was so damn curious about you, you were no longer able to slip away and use the excuse of “I have a particular schedule and curfew because of my family” because he’d insist he’ll walk you

you then had the idea to let him walk you to your house first, then wait until he leaves, and then go meet up with the PT gang

it worked for a couple weeks, but the added physical work of walking to your home, and waiting for him to leave, and then you dashing to the hideout to make it on time really leaves you beyond exhausted especially after you go on dungeon grinds

in other words, you started sleeping in class a lot and slept on Aomine during lunchtime at the rooftop (which he at first did NOT complain)

he only really started being suspicious when you out-slept him; he’d always wake up in the evenings just to see you still snoozing

you overslept one evening and when you straightened yourself awake and checked your time, you visibly paled and in a panic, grabbed your bag and booked it without a goodbye

you forgot about a confused Aomine who was right next to you

as you dashed to your destination, he was right behind you, worried about what exactly happened that got you so distressed

you headed to a particular coffee shop in Yongen-Jaya (don’t worry, Touou Academy is located in Tokyo as well), and when you sharply rounded a corner, you activated the metaverse app, accidentally sucking in a trailing Aomine

“Wow,” Aomine whistled, after recovering from his shock from seeing you in a more extravagant/raunchier attire. “Babe, you look great.”

you inwardly sighed

out of all things, the first thing on his mind was how you looked, and definitely not the fact that the atmosphere was all distorted

“Daiki, sit tight… I’ll be back.” you pushed a protesting bluehead out of the metaverse before you turned to your PT friends who were watching the ordeal silently

“This looks like deja vu, doesn’t it Mona.”

“Ugh, I still haven’t forgotten what you did, Ryuji.”

“Lady Ann, I would never handle you like that—”

“Liar.”

you all did business as usual, and you asked Joker if you could at least explain to your boyfriend the basic going-ons; he nodded

the next day after the information sunk into Aomine’s dense head, he still wanted to see you in your phantom thief outfit (you smacked his arm)

still, it finally explained why you were unbelievably nimble

from now on, every free time you had together, he drags you to the court to play one-on-one’s; he might even practice and pick up some of your own moves to use in his games

when you’re exhausted (quite often), he always offers up his shoulder for you to sleep on, or even better, lets you sit between his legs as you lean against his chest, cradled between his arms

after Aomine dumps off his old porn mags to Ryuji, they suddenly become best friends JWBWITBWJ jk, but in all honesty, Aomine was surprised to see Ryuji expressing the same level of passion (about track) like Aomine does for basketball (apparently Yusuke’s passion for art flies over Aomine’s head because “I don’t get it, they’re just scribbles”)

you guys may or may not teach each other different parkour moves, just for fun

Midorima Shintarou

when you first met him, he found it super odd that you didn’t find his obsession with oha asa off-putting at all

sure, you raised a brow when you first found out, but you never really joked about it nor did you seem to care right after

“Is that your lucky charm today, Midorima?” indicating to his ziplock of herbs

“Yes.” he adjusted his frames “Today is an average day for cancers like me, nanodayo”

“Okay”

“Okay?” he thought, caught off guard not only at the fact that you were the first person to bring up that it was a lucky item in a conversation, but you being so casually accepting as well

usually people ask him the more logical question what the hell he was holding rather than if what he had was a lucky item

he chastised himself for overthinking, he probably had a particular reputation and thought rumors spread to most people about his oddities, and that you weren’t an exception

in truth, you saw way more concerning things than some green haired boy holding a phone book around

in other words, the only way to really make you shook is to just pull out something scarier than all those shadows from the metaverse

besides, Joker has a few weird inventory items of his own: moonlight carrots, random accessories and weird trinkets as weapons and gears… you name it, he’s got it all

honestly, Midorima just reminded you of Joker in terms of both of them having the weirdest items but then turning out to be unexpectedly useful sometimes, and you’re just really amused

Midorima would probably start crushing on you once he was panicking because he thought he was careless when losing his lucky item (in reality: Takao decided to fuck around with him), and after you noticed his visible distress, you offered your dried squid (which you coincidentally packed for lunch today as a snack)

you heard him mumbling about where the squid was and so you handed him your package and asked him if this was the lucky item for today

once he quickly nodded, you tossed it him and said that it was his to take

Midorima was sputtering, oh no

he’s fallen and he can’t get up

after beating the ever living shit out of Takao, he’d reluctantly confess that he’s “interested” in you; Takao got the memo and cackled

next few weeks pass by with you two making small talk before class and during breaks, with a snickering Takao always nearby

Takao, being wingman, invites you to watch a Shutoku home game (cue Midorima staring daggers)

so you showed up, and boy you were SHOOK

no shadow would ever be able to do some accurate shots and aiming like that

so it kind of became a ritual of yours to go to the home games whenever you can (if PT activities didn’t interfere), plus you’d figure Joker would do something similar to learn skills useful for the PT

so you decided to observe the team (mainly Midorima) and maybe watch their moves to see if you can apply them to battle

oh, why is he so good-looking even when he’s especially sweaty and—

Midorima will never admit it, but he always looks for your face when he walks into the court before he relaxes

“Shin-chan, looking for your lover?”

“Shut up, Takao.”

but his blushing gives him away so badly and Takao keeps busting out laughs, holding his stomach

your presence kinda became Midorima’s new lucky charm for the games

and you two got closer now that you had new topics to talk about (basketball and other hobbies)

it was only until Midorima asked about what you did in your free time that you stopped and just went silent, caught off guard that he was interested in your life beyond school

“Uhhhhhhh…” you couldn’t tell him you steal hearts on the downlow

“I just… do a lot of volunteering”

“Is that so, nanodayo.” he didn’t deliver it as a question, as he narrowed his eye at your reaction (where you were generally normally collected)

one day after school, when Midorima went to go look for you, he found you with Joker

and you looked very close with him

jealousy as green as his moppy hair reared its ugly head and he didn’t know whether to approach you or leave you be… until Takao pushed him from behind

“O-oi!”

“Ah, Midorima! There you are! I was waiting for you!” you called him over, while Joker was silently assessing the green-haired man from the glint of his frames

he awkwardly headed over to you, and you introduced Midorima and Joker together and you told Mido that Joker was a really good friend and coworker

“You work, nanodayo?”

wait wait wait shit that was a bad slipup—

“(y/n) works with me sometimes on several odd jobs around Tokyo—”

“A-and I volunteer afterwards!...”

Joker gives you a look of exasperation and “you suck ass at lying, holy crap”

you wanted to slowly introduce your crush to your PT friends, so you did, every week, you’d ask each one/two to come to Shutoku where you’d introduce them to Midorima

Midorima is secretly happy that you’re opening up about your personal life to him, although he constantly gets a naggy feeling that something wasn’t right, especially when your “friends” kept acting weird sometimes when he asked the specific questions of:

“Do you guys always hang out?”

“Where do you guys even meet up if I never saw (l/n) with you anywhere near Shutoku?”

“How’d you guys meet?”

“How long have you been friends?”

oh no, this was gonna go south for you fast

thankfully, your friends were decent actors (Ann, not you)

Midorima really vibes with Yusuke’s wavelength, and Yusuke praises Midorima for “his expression of art through the use of his lucky charms”

Midorima feels weirdly happy that someone for the first time is unabashedly praising him about his superstitions LMAO

anywho, so you and Midorima were kind of in the “more than friends” situation as time went on, but he was still frustrated that he wasn’t exactly “close” to you emotionally; he knew you were hiding something from him

one day, you stopped coming to his games for 4 consecutive games

Midorima is kind of dying

he’s dying and really scared that you’re not into him or he did something wrong, but he’d rather die than ever admit it

one day you approached him really nervously, and ask him to come with you to an area in Shibuya aND HE THINKS YOU’RE GONNA BREAK UP WITH HIM EVEN THOUGH YOU GUYS AREN’T EVEN OFFICIAL

you start apologizing at the fact that you couldn’t come to his games and Midorima insisted it wasn’t a problem (yes it was, he was so stressed)

actually, for the past few weeks you were hoping your PT gang would approve Midorima and later on you hoped to tell him about your thievery with your friends’ approvals

you bring him to your PT gang and from there all of you explained what you all did, confessed what you all were hiding, etc. (they trusted him as per your begging and pleas)

you told Midorima that you couldn’t make his games recently because of those PT activities

he thought you all just lost it and he thought you were mixed up with some crackhead junkies and tried to pull your arm to leave ASAP

but Joker just gives a smirk before he activated the metanav and sucked everyone in

Midorima’s reaction is like Makoto’s when she first witnessed the metaverse

after the whole ordeal and him digesting the information, from that point on, he gives you small lucky items/charms and makes you take them along in your inventories “just in case” but we all know it’s because he’s worried for your safety

oh and you officially became a couple ( ˘ ³˘)♥

bonus: you pester Midorima to teach you how to “shoot” more accurately/farther to help with your PT battles especially in throwing projectiles like *model* daggers and shurikens

he gets along best with Yusuke and Makoto

Akashi Seijuro

so in this au, the PT gang more or less goes to Rakuzan with you or at least goes to a school near yours in Kyoto

this headcanon also takes place shortly after “Last Game,” so his “Oreshi” side reigns

so since the o.g. PT originated in a Kyoto school (in this AU, rather than Shujin Academy), Akashi, as student council president, had more or less heard it from the principal to be wary of this similar “prank” with other kids, and to give harsher discipline if anyone was caught doing so

honestly Akashi thought these people were really over-reacting to mere rumors, but he’ll do what he’s gotta do to maintain order at school

nothing escapes this guy’s eye, literally

he noticed how you’re paying more attention to any nearby conversations that mention the key phrase, “phantom thieves”

“Darling, is something the matter?”

“Oh, sorry, I was just curious in what they were saying,” you said, tugging his hand with yours as you walked on ahead

you weren’t lying at the moment, his eye didn’t see any signs that you often did when you do lie

you knew being a phantom thief while dating THE Akashi Seijuro was a suicide mission but you literally prayed to fucking Igor that your acting skills were sufficient enough in getting past his radar (you asked Joker to help you with this; never ask Ann for acting tips)

Joker suggested for you to try to give half truths, and when you give whole truths, to make them vague and casual enough

for the next month, it was all fine, Akashi hadn’t suspect a thing and things were going uphill for the phantom thieves as well

your group was getting coverage from even the big news channels

but if something grows popular, there’s bound to be gossip, malicious slander, and lies

Akashi was just getting overwhelmed by requests from administration and faculty to try to control the students’ enthusiasm for the PT and deter their efforts in openly showing support

of course, you help him with his paperwork often

you’re just reading all these papers and you’re trying to stifle your laughs

“What’s so funny, love?” he teased, eyes narrowing affectionately at you

“They’re just really ridiculous.” you were honestly dying at the fact that some kids think the PT members were super spy agents from abroad sent to undermine society

and he had to admit, they were, and he responded with a light chuckle of his own

the next day, while you two were cooped up in the student council room to sort through papers, a female student timidly walked into the room and asked for help specifically from Akashi

a PE teacher was allegedly touching female students, and she happened to be one of the victims; none of the adults took her seriously so she hoped Akashi would appeal to them

you were next to him, gritting your teeth and digging your nails into your palms as you were hearing this scared girl being forced to turn to another peer because she couldn’t get help from any adults around

Akashi vows to make her request his top priority and you swore you found another reason to love this redhead of yours

as soon as the student left, Akashi squeezed your shoulder to comfort you and you put your own hand over his, squeezing it back

“Don’t worry. Leave it to me, my love.”

you smiled, although in your head, you’re planning to tell this to the PT to settle this in a different manner

mission success, you changed the heart of the teacher and news spread like wildfire in Rakuzan once he confessed and turned himself in

everyone hailed Akashi as a hero, since the female student thought he must’ve did something

Akashi might’ve talked to some other teachers to convince them to speak out the other day, but he didn’t do anything to warrant such a drastic change in the perpetrator’s behavior

he frowned; you were the only one with him at the time the student asked for help

as more news of PT pop up, this incident was too convenient to call it a coincidence

it’s time that the two you had a talk

as he walked briskly around campus, trying to look for you, he noticed you and the PT gang together; he’s seen them around with you for the longest time and knew they were your friends, and none of them raised any alarms in his head… until now

“Hey, (y/n), are you sure it was okay to change his heart right after you heard that student’s request?”

“Yusuke, I… know it’d look really conspicuous considering the surge in news coverage,” you started. “But the point of us starting this thing was to help others in need! If we’re just waiting around to keep a low cover just for our own convenience, then what’s the point of being Phantom Thieves?”

Akashi stopped in his place, amazed at your resolve

“... Shall we finish the rest of the Memento requests?” a deep voice rang out, belonging to a certain ravenette, Joker

everyone nods, a unanimous decision

the metanav activates, and Akashi immediately noticed the change in atmosphere

he tried to escape it but once it activated, it already pulled him in

the PT members don’t notice him and they walked a few meters ahead onto the tracks, until Futaba cried out that there was a strong shadow

“Guys, careful! Powerful shadow detected right at the entrance of Mementos!”

“Bwah?—that’s impossible!” Morgana hopped to try to look at Futaba’s screen

as everyone runs back to the location, you gasped

“A-Akashi?”

no… there were two Akashi’s, one of them the real person, and the other his shadow

Akashi looks completely lost; it was like facing his “other” dominant self again except it wasn’t in his mind

it was real

“I thought we decided to become one again,” Akashi calmly spoke to his other self

“We have… but a part of you is hesitant to accept the new side that embodies both sides of the same coin that is you.”

“Isn’t that your significant other, (y/n)?” Makoto whispered, and you could only nod as your throat became dry

“Shouldn’t we help him?—” Haru started

“No,” you quietly whispered

it was something he needed to confront alone

Joker nods in understanding as everyone continued to watch, ready to jump in to help in case something goes awry

“You’re still afraid,” his shadow continued. “You still feel the guilt from how you treated others when you were me.”

Akashi said nothing, not denying a single thing the shadow said

“You’re correct, and while I am still wary of you,” he began. “I’m no longer alone. I have friends and a special someone to protect, and they would do the same for me.”

“What if you end up hurting them again? Maybe you’ll hurt your precious lover,” his shadow taunted

“Then they can deal with me however they see fit,” Akashi spoke with resolve. “Until then, I will be someone who will carry himself with dignity and share kindness with others like a true king.”

long story short, Akashi became a persona user after the iconic “I am thou, thou art I” monologue

Akashi took the pain of attaining the persona like a badass with such calmness; the only indication that gave away the fact that he was in pain was that he collapsed onto a knee and winced as he held his head with one hand, the other hand on the floor to stabilize himself

his mask would be like an extravagant masquerade ball mask, with three long, pointy feathers attached to the right side of the mask to give Akashi the silhouette that he’s wearing a tiny crown on the side of his head

Akashi’s attire would definitely have a blazer cape and a simple earring similar to Howl’s from Howl’s Moving Castle; lots of mahogany/burgundy/scarlet + browns color schemes

imagine after an All-Out-Attack, Akashi’s finishing screen says “My Orders Are Absolute” as you hear his voice say “Lower your head” over that

at first, Morgana suggested the codename as “King,” and while it would make sense, Makoto was already “Queen” and you rejected that idea on the spot for obvious reasons

Yusuke was very occupied gushing dramatically over Akashi’s PT outfit and how the colors just worked so well together with his hair too, and he suggested the name “Crimson” or “Scarlet”

it stuck (you can choose which you like better)

while Akashi isn’t an official member of the PT, he’s informed just as much as the official members, and he goes when he feels like the mission is a bit more dangerous than usual in order to protect you ｡•́‿•̀｡

he and Makoto would get along well since they’re both student council presidents and both love to strategize

however, Akashi is different; while Makoto analyzes shadow weaknesses, moves, and potential item drops, he provides position strategies since he noticed everyone just kind of stands adjacent to each other and directly in front of the enemy shadows

he likes to apply basketball systems of defense/offense depending on the situation of ambush to fully utilize each member’s abilities (like how he does with Rakuzan’s team)

once Joker introduces Akashi to Akechi and Hifumi, he’s over the moon

Akechi and Akashi are so similar in wit and personality (Bokushi side though, not as much the current Akashi) that Joker thinks he made the mistake of introducing two formidable figures together

he’s very impressed with Hifumi, and although he’ll still win the shogi matches against her, he acknowledges her as the best challenge he’s had since a long time

you were kinda jealous that he was spending a lot of time with Hifumi playing back-to-back matches but he made it up to you with cuddles

you and Akashi are the power couple™️

imagine yours and Akashi’s showtime together !!

End Note: howdy there! if you would like to see more persona 5/knb crossover headcanons, just submit over names of other knb characters you would like to see this particular headcanon for hehe

152 notes · View notes

mimik-u · 4 years

Text

Flower Child (Chapter 14): Night

AO3 Link

6:10PM:

For the last fifteen years, Jay Zircon had been Diamond Electric’s top lawyer alongside her sister and fellow counsel, Gilda. Whatever lawsuits the company faced—and it had faced more than its fair share—the pair headed the legal team which incisively ensured victory for their illustrious CEO, Yellow Diamond.

Where Gilda was aggressive and willing to snipe beneath the belt, a style that suited their similarly minded boss, Jay was more circumspect in her methodology, able to work through all the variables of a given case to create a slower but undeniably thorough position. When the two of them worked together, they made a dichotomous but somehow remarkably fluid team.

They didn’t lose very often.

They couldn’t afford to lose given the status, prestige, and formidable demand of their employer, who also didn’t lose.

Very often.

(Yellow Diamond had lost her only child four years ago, and it was clear to everyone, to all who knew her, that she hadn’t been the same since.)

The Zircons worked together often in the sense that they were continually forced into close proximity to each other by the nature of their jobs and painful holidays with their aging mother… but as far as working together in a more metaphorical sense went, aliens would invade Earth first before the siblings would ever find common ground for longer than a day.

And somehow, aliens were less of a far-stretch.

“I’m looking at all the facts now, and I truly think, if I-I’m allowed to be frank, Mrs. Diamond, that it is in our best interest to settle for this particular case.” Jay’s voice trembled as she carefully addressed the figure at the head of the conference table.

Arranged in a black three piece suit, Yellow Diamond was simply—there was no other word for it—striking, a slightly slouched but otherwise imperial statue cut from marble in her hardback chair. There was always an air about her, an impression, that she was an impenetrable fortress, her tall walls fortified with sharp weaponry and stone.

Her architecture was magnificent, but in its harshness and angularity, all lines and geometrical edges, it always emphasized an implicit message: She was a woman who it would be unwise to cross.

She stared between the sisters impassively, finger interlocked below her sharp chin as she listened, though Jay couldn’t help but notice that the CEO’s attention was divided between them and her phone, which sat dormant on the table, a silent specter.

“That’s your go-to solution, isn’t it?” Gilda scoffed, her arrogance impressively balanced in the haughty tilt of her nose. “Settle. What is this? A petty traffic ticket? We shouldn’t be settling anything! We could have them on the ropes if we just—”

“Gilda!” She interrupted incredulously, splaying her hands forcibly on the table. “Loosen your cravat so you can see the big picture for heaven’s sake! The factory‘s waste has been unlawfully leaking on a protected reservation for twelve years. We can contest that until we’re blue in the face, but no judge on this green earth is going to rule in our favor.”

Her sister opened that insufferable mouth of hers, likely to argue some asinine point that Jay would spend the next thirty minutes trying to meticulously deconstruct, but the familiar tango was harshly interrupted by the ringing of a phone that was neither of theirs.

“Quiet!” Yellow Diamond hissed, fluidly pulling the device up to her ear, and there was a viciousness in her ordinarily well-regimented face that neither lawyer felt particularly equipped to contest.

So they blanched into obedient silence on either side of the tense CEO.

Gilda uncomfortably picked at her portfolio.

“Blue? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

On the other end of the line, the woman who Jay knew to be Yellow Diamond’s wife, seemed to reply.

Fifteen years was a long time to have known the Diamonds, and during that span—all those days, weeks, and months—Jay understood both very little about them and an incredible lot.

Fifteen years ago, Pink Diamond had been a precocious ten-year old who had accompanied her mother to work from time to time. She used to play on the elevator, zipping from the lobby to the fortieth floor constantly, as though it was some exciting game called Annoy the Poor Elevator Attendant. Jay had been awkward and clumsy then, a young lawyer still trying to find her footing as the newest addition to one of the most elite legal teams in the entire city, and one of her most vivid memories from that time was the youngest Diamond accidentally bumping into her on said elevator, causing her to spill her scalding coffee all over her favorite portfolio.

The child had apologized profusely and even proffered her own jacket as a napkin because she was sweet like that—if a little impish. Freckles crossed the bridge of her nose like trailing dandelion dust; there was a gap in her mouth where she’d just lost a tooth.

For a couple of years there, Jay became familiarized with the heiress’s occasional presence in the building. She was the shock of pink hair bobbing impatiently in the elevator, and she was the flash of red converses heeling off down the hallway and around the corner. She was the lone bubbly voice in a sea of sober business droning. She was ten, and then she was thirteen, and then she was sixteen, obnoxiously jingling the keys to her new convertible around everywhere, as though just begging someone to ask about them.

She was the rare smile on Yellow Diamond’s unbending mouth—crooked there, stiff.

Almost reluctant.

But undoubtedly there.

And then, just like that, she was gone.

The hallways of Diamond Electric felt a little less… vibrant without the spontaneity of those red converses and the climbing octaves of that high, lilting laugh.

Mischievous.

To the last.

As for Blue Diamond, Jay could only claim to have seen her maybe a handful of times in the course of her employ at DE, though only one occasion was stark in the lawyer’s well-ordered recollections.

At the trial where Pink Diamond’s killers were sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole, the Zircons’ euphoria at having argued their cased well was immediately tempered as the entire courtroom watched a tragedy unfold before their eyes. There was no applause as Yellow Diamond stood and held her wife in her arms.

There was only silence.

And baited breath.

And a mutual, unspoken, dirty relief that they were not the Diamonds and only passive voyeurs to what was assuredly unspeakable misery.

That night, Jay and Gilda were quite polite to each other as they taxied away from the courthouse.

A mutual, unspoken, dirty truce.

“No, no, I’m, of course I’m not busy,” Yellow said, standing up with an abruptness that startled the Zircons. She was already halfway to the door before at least one of them recovered their wits.

“But, Mrs. Diamond!” Gilda interjected. “The lawsuit. We—”

“We’re done for the night,” Yellow called over her shoulder, a brusqueness in her voice that left no room for argument. “We can reconvene in the morning.” “But—”

The door slammed on Gilda’s final protestation.

A framed picture of the Empire City skyline comically fell from its place on the wall at the force of the exit, landing facedown on the floor with a pathetic ker-clunk.

Jay glanced down at the neatly compiled packet below her—the efforts of at least two weeks worth of joint research.

They had barely made it past page four; there were fifty-two pages total.

“Her head’s just not in the game anymore,” Gilda sniffed, scooping up her own papers with a roughness that wasn’t entirely impersonal. “Hasn’t been in years now.”

“Gilda,” Jay chided sharply, her voice low, but even she knew that whispering was an exercise in futility.

Their boss was long gone.

“Oh, don’t give me that holier than thou nonsense, sister mine. You know it. Everyone in this office—nay!—this building knows it.” She shoved her portfolio back into her briefcase and closed it, harshly palming the brass clasps. “Our stalwart leader has been compromised.”

“She’s still grieving obviously. She’s taking care of her wife…”

Gilda only shook her head, standing up from her own chair. Her impeccable coif—tall and vaguely impossible looking—gleamed beneath the warm overheads.

“And I’m sympathetic towards her,” she said. “I am. But you cannot run a multibillion dollar business on sentiment.”

It was an effective closing statement to which Jay Zircon had no reasonable rebuttal.

Her sister swept out of the conference room with a last harrumph of contempt, while she alone remained, the last diner at that long, empty table. She shuffled a few of her papers absentmindedly and glanced out of the yellow-tinted windows as the sky slowly turned over to night, charcoaling.

Sentiment.

This company had no use for it.

6:44PM:

The conversation had lasted maybe ten minutes, two of which were lost to clumsy silence as Yellow Diamond navigated from the conference room to her office around the corner, closing the door behind her with a resolute click.

They spent three minutes more on useless pleasantries because that was just what a phone call between two spouses who didn’t really talk anymore entailed.

The barely breathed, Hello.

The awkwardly returned, Hi.

The shuffling of their reluctant breaths, all static and white noise over the line, before Yellow ripped the bandage off with all the indelicacy she centered her brutal facade around, exposing the wound raw.

Did you mean it? Are you sure you’re… okay ?

Because the bleak truth was that she wasn’t sure she believed Blue when she said that she was fine. Four years of perpetual mourning had taught her entirely too much about silent, grief stricken nights and very little about belief, hope, and all of those other empty platitudes. Blue Diamond could say that she was fine and leave a suicide note in the wastebasket three hours later. Blue Diamond could promise that she was okay, only to dissolve on a balcony full of sun because she was light five minutes ago… and now—and forevermore—she was not. She could build a cathedral out of reassurances and condemn it to the ground with just the thought, the remembrance, and the overwhelming absence of Pink Diamond, who haunted them both perpetually and always.

They’d been in the ruins for four years now, and the bottom line was that Yellow Diamond didn’t trust mere words.

And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t trust Bl—

Pleasantries and silence—that was what a phone call between two spouses who didn’t really talk anymore entailed.

There was breathing, and there was the swelling darkness just outside the gold colored windows of Diamond Electric.

In and out and in and out.

Inhale.

Exhale.

And there was a long pause as Blue Diamond collected her thoughts in that quietly precise way of hers; she was always so meticulous in how she used her words, as though they were instruments to be handled with delicate care.

Yes? She replied gently, her voice lilting upwards as though she was asking a question. And no… perhaps both at the same time if those emotions can coexist without contradiction… Yellow, I—

What? Because Yellow had abruptly cut in, unable to stand the tension.

So impatient to the last.

Unfailingly.

The coldness of the office pressed upon her like a vice, its hard edges sinking in her skin. She dug her fingers into the smooth surface of her desk as though to ground herself, but there was nothing to hold on to but the grains. It was always like this when she talked to Blue; the expansive scope of her world narrowed down to her and her alone. Gravity meant nothing; time meant nothing; everything in the world meant nothing.

Except.

And always.

Blue.

I’m sorry, she simply said.

It was only two words; they landed in the pit of Yellow’s stomach like a blow.

I’ve hurt you—immeasurably—in all these collected years, and I’m sorry for that, Yellow, she continued, her voice soft, for all the immeasurable, collected hurts. I am.

Two weeks ago, Blue Diamond had been lying catatonic in her bed, decomposing.

And now, she was apologizing for four years worth of hurt.

It was inconceivable.

Impossible.

It felt wrong.

Surreal.

Why? Yellow’s voice was strangled in her throat, dry and parched. Why now?

Why not a year ago when Yellow knelt by her bedside and pleaded with her—begged her—to stay goddammit? Why not all those hundreds upon hundred of nights that she had slept in the study on a damn leather couch, keeping one eye on the half-opened door in her study, even in the throes of sleep? Why today, of all days, when the consummate businesswoman was in the middle of yet another crucial meeting she would easily abandon all for the sake of one person?

Why?

The question scratched her chest; it punctured her beating lungs.

Why now?

And why… why was Yellow never enough?

(She had wanted to be enough.)

I visited a boy who is fighting for his life today, came the quiet reply. And it reminded me, quickly, of how fragile this all really is.

She had paused then.

The unspoken name nestled between them; the memory of their daughter wreathed her neck.

Pink used to love coming up to this very office just because she liked spinning around in her mother’s chair. Her shoes would briefly flash against the floor just so she could gain momentum, and then she would spin, spin, spin, her head tilted back in the beginnings of a long laugh.

Yellow glanced at it then, the worn leather shining dully in the light glancing in from the windows.

It was completely and utterly empty.

I have to go, Blue. Sorry. I stepped out of a meeting.

She had dismissed the meeting.

Oh, I—

We can talk when I get home tonight.

And then she had clicked the phone off unceremoniously and shoved it across the desk as though it offended.

Ten minutes.

For the last twenty, Yellow Diamond had been sitting in the darkness of her office in that damn leather chair, nursing a glass of scotch between her trembling hands. She downed one smooth shot and then another; she drank and she drank until the expensive decanter was all gone, and the after notes of vanilla and barley and peat smoke burned her aching mouth. She drank and she drank, rummaging through her liqueur cabinet with a kind of desperation that made her feel less like a human and more like a rabid dog, hunting for just a drop of water.

Anything to take off the edge.

She drank until all the memories went away, until four years worth of them were walled off by the dulling buzz of Lagavulin.

And when a single tear crept down the hardened architecture of her face, collecting pitifully on the point of her sharp shin, she was so damn drunk, that she didn’t even know what she was crying about anymore.

Why?

Why now?

And why was she not enough?

She had wanted to be enough.

The beginnings of stars rose from the fire of the sky, and Yellow Diamond watched them as they crashed and burned.

7:01PM:

See, the trouble started when the vending machine near their hotel room stopped working.

Nose wrinkling, stomach rumbling for the want of a snack that would tide her over until Greg got back with pizza, Amethyst tried shaking it, kicking it, and even pleading with the stupid thing all for the sake of a Twinkie she knew probably wouldn’t even taste that good.

But to no avail.

The Twinkie gods hated her apparently.

And so, with a sigh that sounded a hell of a lot more like a groan, she punched the refund button and got her dollar twenty five back in quarters before deciding to try the vending machine in the hospital lobby, moving along the smooth, carpeted floor with new purpose. The rubber sole of her left boot flapped noisily as she walked, having come loose a few weeks ago; she’d been meaning to get it repaired, but between work and Steven, time had been less of a quantity that she possessed, so much as it was something that she chased after.

Every second was a gift, and every minute was a fucking lottery.

There was an elevator ride down and accompanying elevator music, jingling and jangling rhythmically to the beat of her antsy nerves. And there was a text from Vidalia asking how Steven was doing, which she didn’t know how to answer, so she just didn’t reply. (V would get it better than most. Her hubs was a quiet man, so she knew the language of silence entirely too well, whereas Amethyst was still getting the hang of it. Silence was a stalker she had spent half of her life trying to avoid.)

And finally, there was the elevator prying itself open into an atrium that was darkening with the gathering night. Only a few visitors remained, scattered in various hardback chairs and wearing the same tired, careworn faces.

Amethyst didn’t doubt that she looked the same to them.

Because these were faces, sure enough, of loving someone and being afraid to lose them. There was a depletion to the act, a necessary consumption, that united them together beneath the flat roof of the Empire City Regional Medical Center.

They were exhausted—all of them.

So damn weary.

Amethyst had already slumped halfway to the vending machine when she saw her.

One of those same tired, careworn faces.

But a very particular tired, careworn face at the same time.

Blue Diamond, looking incredibly uncomfortable in the chair upon which she sat, her metal cane gleaming by her side.

Amethyst flicked her phone upwards so that the home screen briefly flashed on—it was 7:07. Hella late, and yet, the old lady was still here, looking for all the world like someone had killed her cat or something equally as egregious. Her plump lips were all twisted in a quiet, gnawing sort of frown as she played a little with her long hands on her lap.

Her eyes stared at the ground, but Amethyst could tell—the woman wasn’t really seeing it.

And there was something so singularly sad about this image.

Vulnerable.

That made Amethyst push her Twinkie quest to the back of her mind.

Shoving her curled fists into the pockets of her joggers, Amethyst took one step and then another across the tiled floor until she was standing right in front of the puzzle of Blue Diamond, the multibillionaire who had worn a bathrobe to a cemetery.

And she knew it was insensitive of her to think that way. Regardless of the woman’s faults, numerous though Amethyst assumed they were, she hadn’t asked for her griefs to be handed to her on a silver platter.

She hadn’t asked to be undone.

To be fair, though, no one ever did.

That was just the dice of life, rolled across a slanting table.

Snake eyes.

Sorry.

Better luck next time.

“Anyone sittin’ here?” She asked gruffly, jerking her thumb towards the empty chair on Blue Diamond’s left.

Startled from her solemn reverie, Blue looked up then, mouth parting slightly in a soft ‘o’ of surprise as recognition pinched her silvery brow. She shifted in her seat, hunched shoulders straightening with an understated kind of elegance that Amethyst had come to closely associate with Pearl.

This wasn’t an especially welcome analogy, though. After all, while she’d gotten used to Pearl’s various quirks by now, for a long time there—years even—she’d always felt… condescended by her in a way.

Patronized.

Small.

That feeling took a long ass while to go away with a person whom she considered to be one of her closest friends; how much longer would the sensation last with a total effing stranger, especially the very one she was, like, supposed to hate just on mere principle?

Amethyst ran a habitual hand through her hair in the awkwardness of it all and shifted her weight from one shoe to the other, rocking back and forth. The sole of the left one went flap, flap, flap.

“You’re… one of Steven’s guardians, yes?”

“Yup, one of many.” And then, because she knew that probably didn’t clarify matters, brusquely added, “Amethyst. I was the one who brought him to your suite the other day. Can I sit?”

She once again gestured pointedly to the chair, raising a lavender brow in such a way that more or less communicated, Jeez, woman, get it together.

“Oh, yes! My apologies,” came the appropriately abashed reply. “Please. Be my guest.”

And so, with a little more force than was necessary, Amethyst threw herself into the empty seat, ass already chafing against its hard bottom, the tips of her boots just barely scraping the clinically white floor.

She could feel Blue Diamond’s tallness next to her more than she dared to look at it for herself; her presence was overwhelming as it was without having to look at her dead on—the shadows turning circles beneath her huge eyes, the parentheses around her quivering mouth, and that air of misery that the twenty-nine year old knew well enough without needing to observe it in a perfect stranger. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she could see that the woman had gone back to staring at her wrinkled hands, templing them delicately on the blue fabric of her lap.

“My valet is coming to pick me up,” she offered without prompting, “but I believe traffic is delaying her.”

“S’always cray cray around this time of night,” Amethyst returned knowledgeably. She couldn’t claim to like Empire City, but after a few months of driving up here so often, she supposed she at least couldn’t refute that she knew it. “Lotsa idiots out n about.”

“Reckless, are they not?”

“The absolute wooooorst.”

And both of their mouths briefly quirked at exactly the same time before silence fell between them again, clumsy and awkward, like an entity still growing into its feet.

They were talking about traffic.

Neither of them really wanted to talk about traffic.

Amethyst broke the stillness first, studiously continuing to not look at her companion. Instead, she drew her leg upwards into her chair, so she could pick at her boot some more.

Flap, flap, flap.

“So you saw him, huh?”

It wasn’t necessary to evoke his name; after all, she was pretty sure that the image of him laying in that hospital bed, all swarming with tubes, haunted the both of them even now, invading the sanctity of their minds and eyes.

Flap, flap, flap.

She was going to tear her shoe to shreds if she kept it up.

(She kept it up.)

“I saw him, yes,” Blue agreed quietly, her fingers stilling in their cathedral position. One thumb was balanced carefully atop of the other, bricks without mortar, construction without foundation. “I... wasn't ready… he was so small... and I almost looked away... I'm ashamed to even admit it."

The confession was broken into tiny fragments, each splinter slow and painful in the rolling of her accent.

Amethyst couldn’t help herself then—restraint had never been the name by which she was known.

She was blunt.

She parried back, “You still could, y’know. You don’t have to be here for this.”

You don’t have to put yourself through this if you can help it.

(We can’t help it.)

“Not your circus, not your monkeys, and all that jazz.”

And maybe that was the crux of it, the beating heart behind the entanglement of her reluctance when it came to the wealthy woman sitting next to her. The Crystal Gem couldn’t understand why someone, anyone, would willingly partake in this exhibition when they had every blessed out in the world. Blue Diamond didn’t have to care for Steven. She didn’t have to be here. She could go back to the fiftieth floor of her penthouse suite and wall herself away from one care of this world more. Just from her looks alone, Amethyst could tell that she couldn’t afford another loss, and yet, she could absolutely afford to get away from the possibility of another loss if she just, well, left.

If she hurried.

Before the boy who was kind enough to extend flowers to random ladies in the cemetery could worm his way into a heart that had already had its reckoning.

But—and Amethyst was just now realizing this with the force of a collision—maybe that was the crux of it, too.

That simple goodness of a proffered hand had been enough.

It had changed a life.

Maybe, quite possibly, it had saved one.

“I… just got off the phone with my wife,” Blue Diamond whispered, “and she asked a singular question to which I couldn’t provide the answer. Why? Such a simple beast, and yet a devastatingly complex one.”

Why Rose all those many years ago?

Why Steven now? Why couldn’t they find him a damn kidney?

Why couldn’t life give them one damn break?

Why?

The familiarity of the question rose like a lump in Amethyst’s throat.

“I’ve looked away from her—from everything, really—for so many years, even before my daughter…” The woman trailed away, her voice hitching. It took her a few seconds to regroup. She placed a steadying hand on her chest. “… and now, for reasons I cannot necessarily explain myself… I don’t want to anymore. Maybe, Yellow, it is because a child in a cemetery told me that it was quite possible to still feel the pain of my loss and still live? Maybe, Yellow, it is because I sat upon a balcony with him and envied the hunger he had for life, and wondered, for the first time in years, if it was still possible to obtain a modicum of it for myself? Maybe, Yellow, I saw him in a hospital bed today—sick—and it reminded me of a truth that I’d long forgotten.”

Amethyst chanced a peek at Blue Diamond then, stole it ashamedly, as though she was a child reaching a hand into the cookie jar.

The dim incandescence of the overheads crowned her silvery head in soft, white light as she glanced upwards, her half-moon gaze angled to a spot that the Crystal Gem couldn’t quite see.

She almost looked beautiful—a portrait in melancholy, all feathery brushstrokes.

Steven would have thought so anyway.

Hell, he was the type of person who would have even said it.

“And what that’d be?” She asked.

What was the answer to that devastatingly simple, that horribly complex question, Why?

If there was even an answer at all.

What truth had a woman as seemingly erudite as Blue Diamond so guiltily forgotten?

Blue looked down then, a strand of wavy hair falling between her eyes. It curled a little at the end.

“Why?” She murmured, her strained voice barely above a whisper. Amethyst had to lean in just to catch what she said next. “Because I love you, Yellow—so much. That is why.”

The rawness of the proclamation, the sincerity of it, seared the both of them, landing cleanly between them like the precise swing of an axe. It was always such a vulnerable gamble to admit to love, and perhaps it was even revolutionary to proffer it as the solution to why.

Why am I trying?

Why am I still here?

Why can’t I look away, Steven?

Because I love you—so much. That is it.

That is all.

And that is why.

It was a simple phrase, and it was a profound one. It was scarcely said; in Blue Diamond’s case, it was forgotten.

“You should tell that to her,” Amethyst suddenly said, and just for a moment there, it didn’t matter that the person in question was the dread Yellow Diamond, her mortal enemy or whatever.

Just for a moment, Yellow Diamond was merely a person who was loved by another.

“Exactly like that,” she pressed before glancing away, her bangs falling across her eyes. She played with her busted shoe again as heat clambered up her face—flap, flap, flap. It was surreal to be sitting here, giving advice to a woman so different from her and so alien. It was only chance that they were both sitting here—here, of all places—beneath the roof of this hospital.

Tired and careworn.

Alike but not especially.

Perfect strangers.

Connected simply by a flower and a boy.

Now it was Blue Diamond’s turn to stare; her tall, sickle-shaped eyes were drawn to the noise of flap, flap, flap, which made Amethyst self-conscious about the fact that the woman was likely wearing a designer dress.

Damn these rich people.

“I fear it may be too late. I’ve done my damage.”

“Maybe,” Amethyst shrugged. It was all she could do. “But ya won’t know until you’ve tried.”

They were both silent again. Outside the glass windows, the world had taken on the dull purple of night, pulling it over its shoulders like a cozy, star-spangled nightgown.

“Thank you… Amethyst.”

Blue Diamond offered her a parenthetical smile of an olive branch of a truce; it was a reluctant little gesture, still stiff and foreign on the mouth of someone who looked like she hadn’t smiled in years.

“Nah, don’t mention it, dude," she shrugged.

It was not forgiveness, nor was it absolution.

But it was a tiny concession.

It was a tired half-smile pulling at her lips.

“I needed the reminder, too.”

7:39PM:

Traffic in Empire City was always a risky gamble of a business, especially at night when the only rule of the six lane seemed to be, “Everything goes, and good luck with the going, buddy, old pal, my friend.”

Having spent years driving up here with Rose for various doctor appointments and then relearning the routine all over again with Steven these past few months, Greg liked to fancy that he could navigate the beast as well as any boardie from a small beach town could ever claim to. But even still, all the ample driving experience in the world was no match for what a car wreck could do to the flow of vehicles streaming down the neon lit highway.

Somewhere a little up above his van, there was a cacophony of sirens—red and blue and shrill and insistent. In the passenger seat, the pizzas he’d picked up nearly an hour ago were cooling, the rich, greasy smell of them sidling up to his shoulder temptingly. He thought about taking a bite because it was late and he was hungry, but ultimately decided against it.

Amethyst would never let him hear the end of it.

So he thought about the accident up ahead and hoped that no one had been seriously injured. (He had his doubts, though. There were so many sirens, wailing.) His van slowly crept forward as the cars ahead were painstakingly navigated around the ruins. People honked up and down the endless line because patience wasn’t Empire City’s strong suit; the big city, the golden apple, didn’t wait for anyone, least of all everyone, and sometimes, it felt like everyone in the world lived here, a population made of skyscrapers and cars and brilliant lights.

But thinking about the wreck didn’t entertain him for very long—his apologies to those affected—so he thought about the soulful tunes crooning through his staticky radio. Some R&B band from the eighties whose name just barely escaped him. They sung about love and loss and red Corvettes that shined beneath the hot, sticky sun. Greg’s thumbs slapped the wheel rhythmically to the melody, picking out the notes with an easiness that might have made old Marty proud on a good day.

But then the music suddenly shuddered off, the jockey apologizing for the inconvenience.

They’d try to get the station back up shortly.

The silence was unbearable.

So he popped in the closest CD, thinking it was his relaxing music compilation.

But nope.

It was death metal, the sudden explosion of the heavy bass and snare drums nearly sending his car veering into the next lane over as his hands jerked on the wheel.

“Wrong one!” He panted, chest heaving with feral panic. “Stop! Eject!”

And with a slap harder than intended, he punched the panel of buttons at random, the noise screeching to a stop, the CD comically popping out like toast from a toaster.

Ding.

And silence filled all the empty spaces once again.

In the silence, Greg had no choice but to think of Steven.

He took great gulps of air, his shoulders still shaking from the reverberations of the abruptly snuffed music, and could find no more distractions.

This was the end of the road on an endless road of snailing cars.

His hands clenched painfully around the wheel, the images revving across his mind’s eye—unbidden, quick, ugly, and unwanted.

His son.

His only son.

Laying in that hospital bed.

Dying.

Was this all life had to offer? He wondered to himself, and in the place of noise, there was emotion; there was sadness and horror and anger roaring up the column of his throat.

Rising.

Leaking.

Dripping.

Down his ruddy cheeks and into his beard.

Down his throat.

Draining.

Loving people who were gonna always leave him in the end? Finding home only for it to immediately forsake him? Maybe old Andy had had it right, always up there in that great, blue oasis of sky—never touching the ground long enough for people to find him and love him and hurt him.

Maybe there was something to the idea of giving up.

But no. “Stop that,” Greg scolded himself harshly. “Stop.”

He’d spent his entire teen years running away from his folks and all their shiny expectations, so he was done running away. He had told himself that the moment he kicked Marty outta his van and turned it back around to Beach City and its sprawling sands—to the little oceanside town and the big woman with pink hair.

Right then and there, he’d been ready to accept the consequences of his actions.

The starchild had grown into a man.

And that meant staying the course, no looking back or skywards, no regrets or what-could-have-beens.

For Steven Universe, he would stay until the end… no matter what that end happened to be.

That was responsibility.

And that, above all, was love.

Love was solidity, and it was thereness, and it was warmth.

It was patience, and it was risk that never quite guaranteed reward.

Love was staying.

Even when things got tough, and maybe especially when they did.

(Stay, he'd pleaded with Rose when Dr. Howard turned the ventilator off. He had held her hand. He didn't want her to be alone.)

(Please, he begged as the lines that measured the beating of her heart began to falter and fade away.)

His bushy brow furrowed in quiet sympathy as he finally maneuvered around the scene of the accident, going slowly as a traffic officer signaled him on with a hand and a whistle. He saw the carnage out of the corner of his eye, all twisted metal and climbing smoke. What looked like a Nissan had plowed right into the back of a fancy lookin’ black town car, not unlike the one which had brought Blue Diamond to the hospital earlier…

His heart lurched.

But then he thought about it.

He considered.

Nah.

Couldn’t be her.

From what he understood, her high rise was somewhere past the hospital.

8:54PM:

“Pearl, go home before I tell Gunga on you,” Kiki teased, but all the same, there was concern in her voice, a hint of seriousness that didn’t quite mark her playful threat as simply playful. It flashed in the depths of her warm, brown eyes. And it brushed against Pearl’s shoulder with a gentleness she had come to expect from the younger Pizza sister.

The two of them were both working behind the bar of Fish Stew Cuisine tonight, the restaurant Kiki’s father and grandmother owned. It used to be just a casual place for locals—then called Fish Stew Pizza—but with time, effort, and a considerable amount of increased tourism when vacationers realized that there was a lovely beach here to visit and trash, it had expanded into one of Beach City’s finest restaurants.

It was a slow night, though, rain coming down in heavy sheets outside the tall, glass windows.

At this late hour, only a few diners remained, casually enjoying their dinners to the rhythmic tattoo of the storm—mostly regulars, people who understood that through rain, hail, sleet, or snow, Fish Stew would always be here for patient guests, arms open wide and plates steaming with good food. The amber light strewn from the dusky lamps made the place feel warm, as though it was full of quiet fire, flickering in so many overhanging hearths.

Pearl swiped persistently at a stain on the glass she was cleaning.

She’d been working on it for five minutes now in the absence of a new customer to tend to.

“I can’t just leave,” she returned exasperatedly, still scrubbing away at the mark. She was starting to think that it was yet another lost cause.

(She seemed to have a penchant for those lately.)

“I promised to work until closing.”

And I have to.

There are bills to pay and possible surgeries to fund.

But she didn’t say this part aloud; she didn’t want to put that weight on a seventeen-year old who meant well.

“Girl, closing isn’t ’til eleven, and you’ve been here since two,” Jenny Pizza laughed, glancing up from her phone long enough to do so. She was Kiki’s older sister and a bit of a rebel to the boot. Though she was technically on the clock, too, she had been sitting on the other side of the bar for the past half hour now, sending something she called “snaps” to her friends. These “snaps” often involved her making funny faces at her camera, ninety percent of these compelling her to poke her lips out. “Go home, and get some shut eye. Seriously.”

“Seriously,” Kiki parroted, snatching the glass from out of Pearl’s hands when she wasn’t looking.

With a certain primness, she chunked it into the nearest recycling bin as the bell on the door pealed, signaling an incoming customer.

“Kiki!”

“The new ones are coming in next week anyway,” the girl only replied with a shrug of mischievous shoulder. “Now, Pearl, go the eff home. We got this. Right, Jenny?”

“Mhm.” Jenny made a vague noise of agreement without looking up again. “Yeah, you’ve got this, Kiki. Get it.”

“Well,” Kiki only rolled her eyes, “I’ve got this anyway.”

Two massive arms, both scarred and tattooed, slammed down on the countertop then, and Pearl’s mouth immediately twitched into a smile to see that it was none other than Bismuth, a local construction worker for the city and a fellow Crystal Gem. Her spectacularly colorful dreads were thrown upwards into a haphazard ponytail, and her mouth was wide with one of those trademark Bismuth smiles, all lopsided, shining with white teeth.

“Pearl,” she scolded in that wry way of hers, “are you givin’ these pretty ladies trouble again?”

“Yesssssss,” Kiki replied, already starting on the woman’s usual order. (Jerk chicken and eggs.) “Homegirl won’t go home even though she’s been here all day. Just look at her.” The teenager gestured vaguely at Pearl’s body. “She looks dead on her feet.”

“You’re being incredibly rude tonight, you know,” Pearl huffed, unable to resist the urge to glance down. There was an unidentifiable stain on the collar of her shirt.

She hated unidentifiable stains on the collars of her shirts.

“It’s for your own good,” she replied sagely, turning away as her saucepan began to sizzle on the stove. With Jenny also occupied, Pearl was left to the mercy of Bismuth, who’d always had a way of seeing through her, down to her deepest core.

Nothing escaped those dark eyes of hers, not a tool, not a loose screw, not the quiet, aching sadnesses of a friend. With a self-assuredness that Pearl had always lacked and a gentleness that she had always loved, her old companion reached across the bar and placed a calloused palm atop of the pale ridges of Pearl’s knuckles, covering them completely.

“C’mere, sugar,” she said softly, “and tell me all about it.”

“It’s late,” Pearl whispered automatically, glancing away. She always had some excuse or another. “And you’ve been working. You must be tired.”

“Hell,” Bismuth snorted as Kiki pushed a soda towards her, “if I’m tired, then you must be exhausted. The kid’s right. You look it.”

“The kid’s always right,” Kiki chimed in knowingly before moving away again.

And so, as the breath of rain continued to hiss on the roof, Pearl drew up a stool and sat across the bar from Bismuth, her hand warm beneath the other’s surprisingly gentle touch.

And they talked.

Softly.

Pearl told her everything.

She told her about the cemetery and Steven and the tiny hibiscus flower that passed from his hand to that of Blue Diamond’s, watching as Bismuth’s expressive face twisted in the same sort of horror and disgust that she herself had been grappling with ever since the bathrobed woman had somehow made her way into the entanglement of their lives. And Pearl told her about the last trip to Empire City, how Steven had almost needed a blood transfusion, and how that almost had become their reality when he’d collapsed in the beach house, hitting those wooden slats with a thunk that still echoed in the hollows of her head.

“I yelled at Amethyst,” she whispered, horrified, trying to withdraw her hand from beneath Bismuth’s.

Bismuth’s grip only tightened.

“I said some horrible things.”

“We all say horrible things,” the woman only replied, looking down, ever so subtly glancing away. Fifteen years ago, she and Rose had had a falling out over how to protest Diamond Electric. They hadn’t made up before she died. “The fixin’ part is what matters.”

And so Pearl, swallowing hard in acceptance of this lived-through truth, went on and on until her voice was scratchy from the strain of it. She told Bismuth about how small Steven was in the hospital bed and how sickly. She told her, fingernails digging into the grains of the bar, about how Priyanka Maheswaran, who always had a solution, didn’t really have an answer. She told her about the IVs and the wires and the blood transfusions and the possibility of a feeding tube.

And she told her, without saying a word, that she was scared.

Admissions did not come easily to the woman, but they were written across the physiognomy of her entire body anyway.

The desperation leaked from her pale eyes.

And all the sleepless nights lined her pointed face.

And there was a stiffness in the way she held herself, so harshly, with studied discipline.

But by definition, discipline was necessarily repression, and repress, repress, repress was the motto and model by which Pearl lived her life. It was the lone vanguard which kept her from shattering to pieces on the floor—just another mess for Kiki to sweep up with the rest of the clutter.

It was her last defense against total dissolution.

When she had nothing, at least she could put a smile on her face and pretend otherwise.

“So it’s been a long week,” she smiled wearily at the end of this.

She smiled because the alternative was to fall apart.

"To say the least.”

But, again, that was the thing about Bismuth.

Nothing escaped those dark eyes of hers, not a tool, not a loose screw, not the quiet, aching sadnesses of a friend.

With that familiar self-assuredness, her old companion rose from her seat and walked around to the other side of the bar.

“Bismuth, wait, I—”

And then, without hesitating, she crushed Pearl into her strong arms.

The engineer smelled faintly of oil and flavored tobacco.

Peppermint.

Crisp and sharp.

“To say the least,” she only agreed as Pearl’s lower lip began to tremble.

Her arms were limp, useless, by her sides, hanging over the edges of the stool.

“I’m fine,” she tried. The word fell flat on her tongue. “Really.”

“I don't doubt that you are. I never would. But you don’t have to be, hon,” Bismuth replied softly, her breath kindling warm against her ear. “You work so hard… and you care so much… that it ain’t a crime to need some tender love n care, too. It ain't weakness to be kind to yourself, Pearl."

Pearl was frozen, statuesque, even as the world somehow continued to spin around her. Diners chatted, rain fell, and the eggs sizzled in their frying pan. Everything and everyone else had their place in this world.

She wasn’t sure where that left her and all the griefs she so tightly wrapped herself around—scars and still-bleeding wounds.

“How can I break,” she asked, her voice tight, “knowing he’s lying in that hospital bed? What right do I have to fall to pieces when what he’s fighting is a hundred times worse?”

Somehow, Bismuth had an answer to this, too; she seemed to always have an answer.

She rubbed gentle circles into Pearl’s back.

She didn't let go.

“Pain isn’t a competition, Pearl,” she admonished. “When you’re hurting, you’re hurting.”

There was a matter-of-factness to this statement, a sense of finality, and perhaps that was what did it in the end; the raw truth of it confronted her, and it scalded her, and it forced her to confess.

Pearl shattered, and Bismuth was there to scoop up all the pretty, broken pieces.

“It hurts all over,” she admitted as the tears wrenched themselves loose from her eyes.

“I know, sugar."

Outside the restaurant, the rain continued to beat its relentless dirge into the Boardwalk, the sky falling in shards and unholy music, all needle sharp notes.

If the crescendo screamed, it absolutely roared.

10:03PM:

Outside the window of Room 11037, night wrapped its velvety arms around a sky shivering with stars, and Garnet, attentive of every wire and tube, wrapped her warm arms around Steven as they laid in his hospital bed together, watching a late night re-run of Crying Breakfast Friends. This was the episode where Pear betrayed the stoic Spoon’s trust, and all the assorted breakfast people cried about it for a good seven minutes of the show’s eleven minute runtime.

For some odd reason, the animation on Spoon’s tears was exceptionally well done, the liquid fluidly running down the curvature of their face as they wailed incoherently.

“Wahhhhhhhhhh.”

(Not for the first time, Garnet absently wondered who had been paid to write this.)

Beneath her, Steven sniffed noisily, bringing up the less-encumbered of his hands to swipe tentatively at his nose; it was an awkward movement with the oxygen cannulas in the way.

“You’ve seen this one before,” Garnet teased softly, her voice landing somewhere in his dark hair. “Twice that I know of. It can’t be that sad anymore.”

She waited for a laugh and a witty retort—for a remarkably insightful analysis into why it was okay to cry over crying breakfast utensils—but one wasn’t forthcoming, even though the child’s shoulders were conspicuously shaking.

She looked down at him then, catching a sliver of his face in the light wash of the television; tears streamed silently from his eyes and down the sunken hollows of his face, down into the collar of his gown, down past the spiral of wires.

“Steven.” Garnet propped herself up with an abruptness that was almost violent, though when she cupped his face between her long fingers, her touch was exceedingly gentle. “What’s wrong?”

But Steven shook his head, burying it into the front of her sweatshirt as a low whine escaped past his anemic lips.

His chubby fingers twisted into the fabric next to her stomach.

“Steven!” Panic slipped up the rungs of her voice.

She looked around wildly her for the call button on the railing, but they were surrounded by so many tubes and blankets.

And it was dark.

And Steven was crying.

“Garnet,” he finally moaned, “my back hurts.”

It was a common symptom with his disease. Because the kidneys were located right below the ribcage, his upper back often spasmed when they were being particularly bothersome.

At home, they would give him medicine and press a heating pad to his spine, hoping against both hell and hope that the warmth would sooth the worst of the pain.

Here in the hospital, they could give him morphine.

They could even sedate him.

Make the pain go away for a few hours if that was mercy.

(Once, after a particularly bad attack that’d almost brought them to the hospital, Steven had described the pain like being stung by a jellyfish over and over again, as though its tentacles were wrapped around his torso, wringing him out all over.)

“I have to get a nurse,” she said automatically, her throat dry. He clung to her so tightly that she didn’t dare move an inch. On the TV, Spoon was still crying, their keening overwrought next to Steven, who cried so quietly these days that it was almost like he hated for anyone to hear.

“They’ll drug me?” He asked astutely, the sound muffled in her shirt.

“Yes.”

“It’d make me sleep.”

“Maybe... yes.” Garnet couldn’t see where he was going with this until his fingers tightened just a fraction more where they gripped her.

Her lips parted.

And there was silence.

And there was crying.

And there was understanding most of all. It scorched Garnet and simply ruined her.

“You don’t want to go to sleep.”

It was a statement, hoarsely dragged from her mouth.

She received a minimal head shake as her answer.

“You’re scared.”

And somehow, she knew the veracity of her words before he nodded his assent into her chest.

Steven was scared to fall asleep—afraid, maybe even terrified, that he wouldn’t wake up. The horror of it, the awfulness and the unfairness, and the cruelty of it rose up in Garnet’s chest like a tsunami, a fire, a hurricane, a storm.

Yet, she remained immobile.

She didn’t move.

What could she even say to that?

What was she supposed to say?

Words were insufficient.

(She couldn’t even reassure herself.)

The small TV screen suddenly faded to black as Crying Breakfast Friends ended, and the credits rolled, the show’s elegiac theme song playing softly in the background, all piano notes and somber violin strings.

It was a little easier, at least, when she couldn’t see his face.

“I’m scared, too,” she admitted.

It was only three words, but they exacted her, and they excavated her; heat clambered up her cheeks, settling somewhere behind her burning eyes.

Steven’s shoulders briefly stilled, though all the machines keeping him alive continued to whir on.

“Y-you are?”

“All the time.” Scared to touch him, scared to even look at him. Scared that one day, she would wake up and he would be gone, a shell finally reclaimed by its shore. Scared to leave this hospital room lest she miss a single moment, and scared to stay if that meant watching him go. Scared that they wouldn’t find him a kidney in time, and scared that if they did, they couldn’t afford it.

Garnet was a wreck, barely holding together.

She was Garnet.

She had to hold together anyway.

“And sometimes, Steven,” she whispered, hugging him to her chest as much as the tubing would allow, “that is what love is—being scared and moving forward anyway.”

Into the darkness, hand in hand.

Without the promise of safe return.

Her mothers had done it.

Rose Quartz had done it.

And the footprints they had left behind were big to fill, but Garnet didn’t have to fill them; she just had to follow their lead.

Steven was quiet for a couple more heartbeats still before he slowly withdrew his head from her chest to look up at her; he didn’t quite let go of her shirt; he took ragged, rasping breaths, his shoulders heaving to the rhythmic whirring of his heart monitor.

“You can call the nurse now.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

It was all she could manage.

“And, Garnet?”

“Yes, Steven?”

“I love you.”

10:45PM:

Cooling down after a long day of work was always struggle for Priyanka, whose mind was such that it was perpetually working ahead to the next day of work—all the patients she had to do rounds upon, all the charts she had to fill out, and all the procedures she had to meticulously prep for, spending as much time in the hospital’s library as she did the operating room.

If the table of her head wasn’t perpetually well-set, her thoughts surgically arranged on a porcelain plate, scalpels placed in descending order by size on the adjacent napkin, then the doctor felt unmoored from the trait which made her feel fundamentally herself.

Her precision—unerring, diligent, and unpretentious.

She checked and double-checked and was a better nephrologist for it. By the nature of the temperamental organ she was dealing with, her patient mortality rate was high, but no one, by the nature of her methodology, could say that it was because of human error.

She checked and double-checked, trying to quantify every conceivable possibility before they could make themselves known in the real world, and when she neglected to deconstruct a hypothetical, which was a rarity in and of itself, she would chastise herself for it both before and better than anyone else ever could.

Priyanka Maheswaran was a study in precision, never shirking away from the reward that often laid at the end of hard labor.

But what no one had ever told her was that a side effect of being precise was being so damn tired.

All the time.

She struggled to cool down, and she was exhausted. She desperately wanted to sleep, but her mind whirred and whirled and calculated and thought. The dichotomous interplay of these qualities led to her sipping hot tea in bed with a pinched expression on her face as her husband stretched out next to her, reading his tattered copy of Crime and Punishment and sometimes laughing aloud when a line struck him as funny.

“Ha,” he snorted after awhile of this before replacing his bookmark (an old grocery store receipt) in his new spot and closing the heavy tome. “I love Dostoevsky.”

Lips pressed to the rim of her nearly empty mug, Priyanka arched a sharp brow at him, smiling wryly.

Her husband was a dork.

“Should I be jealous, dear?”

“Naturally,” Doug returned, reaching over to place the book on his nightstand before turning back towards her. “Dostoevsky has it all. A great grasp on existentialism and a beard for days. He could tone it down on the heavy moralism, though.”

“That’s what you said about Tolstoy,” she reminded him with a tilt of her head. “Good beard, too much sermonizing.”

“It’s a running theme,” her husband admitted sadly, and then, catching each other’s eye, the two Maheswarans suddenly laughed, the sounds loud in the otherwise quiet room.

It was moments like these, after nearly seventeen years together, that kept them going strong. They loved each other, and they liked each other, and they especially liked to make each other laugh.

Even if it was about something as specific as Russian literature titans.

And maybe especially if it was about something as specific as Russian literature titans.

“We’re going to wake our daughter up,” Priyanka finally said, setting her mug down on her own nightstand. In the lamplight, the dark ceramic gleamed. Her phone, sitting next to it, showed that she had a new message from one of the surgical interns she was training.

She’d open it in a minute.

Knowing the group of fools she’d gotten this year, whoever it was had probably stabbed themselves with a syringe.

(Again.)

“It’s never too early for Connie to have an opinion on old Russian men,” Doug chuckled, but he, too, was settling down as the heaviness of night began to sweep across them both.

He sighed fondly and took her hand then, intertwining their fingers on top of the blankets.

Priyanka wasn’t much of a touchy-feely person, but her husband absolutely was, and she knew, from all the coagulated years of having been married to him, that this simple gesture was about being close to her, about reacquainting himself to her presence.

So she didn’t let go.

Instead, she squeezed once, resting her head against the backboard of their bed and closing her eyes for the first time in what felt like days. The darkness was nice and inviting, blanketing her head like a cozy throw.

It was just all the thoughts, buzzing like bees at the velvety, black edges, that made it so unbearable.

Patients, charts, and procedures.

And Steven Universe most of all.

She worried for him constantly now that he was in the hospital; she carried his sunken face with her everywhere that she went; he made her half-sick.

He forced her to become undone.

Caring.

It did something to her.

“You look tired, honey,” Doug said softly. “Shall we put a nightcap on the evening?”

Priyanka opened her eyes again and nodded ever so briskly. She tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear and let out a small, exacting sigh.

“I think that’d be in order,” she agreed, and it was a sign of her exhaustion that she acquiesced so easily. Usually, he had to plead with her to close down shop for the night.

These weren’t usual times.

Without letting go of her hand, her husband twisted away and turned the latch of his lamp with a click, thrusting half of the room into darkness.

And she was about to do the same when the rectangular light of her phone caught her attention again.

Instead of just one message from her intern—a perky blonde named Dr. Stephens—now she had eight of them in total and a missed call.

The doctor always put her phone on silent when she drank her nightly tea so she didn’t have to be a doctor for fifteen minutes.

She could simply be Priyanka.

Her stomach clenched.

An influx of messages was never a good thing; her mind raced ahead of her; it anticipated the worst.

“Hon?”

Doug’s questioning concern pressed against her side, and Priyanka found herself clenching his hand all the tighter as she used her free one to pick up the phone, unlocking it with a quick swipe and clicking the message app with a suddenness that was brutal.

Monday, 10:57PM:

Dr. Stephens: DR. MAHESWARAN!!!!!

Dr. Stephens: UNOS JUST CALLED.

Dr. Stephens: WE HAVE A KIDNEY FOR STEVEN UNIVERSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dr. Stephens: Car crash on the lower East Side. The donor is brain dead, but all their other organs are viable.

Dr. Stephens: And they’re a match for Steven.

Dr. Stephens: Seriously. I’ve checked and double-checked.

Dr. Stephens: This is our person.

Dr. Stephens: The surgeon at Empire Gen’s gonna perform the harvest procedure tomorrow morning at 10AM, and I told them you’d be there.

In the half-darkness of her room, Priyanka held that phone aloft like it was priceless gold and let out a breath she had been holding for a very long time. Her shoulders heaved with the sensation of it, the feeling, the emotion.

Of goddamn relief.

Warm, sweeping, glorious relief.

A kidney.

Steven Universe was getting a kidney.

#bellow diamond #blue diamond #yellow diamond #steven universe #pearl #amethyst #garnet #priyanka maheswaran #yellow zircon #blue zircon #jenny pizza #kiki pizza #greg universe #bismuth #s: steven universe #mimik-u #flower child #hoooooo boy this is a long ass chapter

97 notes · View notes

dammitadolfnomorecake · 3 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 209

209

The problem with supernatural senses was the ability to hear everything. Lance sympathised with Keith, cringing in second hand embarrassment for how his fiancé tried to talk to Pidge. Keith’s awkwardness was a thing of legend. There were a lot of “ums” in his sentence, and he’d twice assured Pidge “that it was okay if she didn’t want to”, before he finally asked if they could talk. The pair of them heading into the house as Hunk kept his eye on them.

“Catching” Hunk staring, Lance decided to say fuck it to manners. Hunk wasn’t upsetting Pidge on purpose. Shay wasn’t upsetting Pidge on purpose. They just weren’t quite clicking and though it wasn’t his place to say it, he didn’t want Pidge to feel left out because her best friend was dating the woman of his dreams

“Hunk, what’s up?”

“Pidge just went off with Keith... I thought they were going to check on Shiro and Curtis... I’m just... uh, I’m kind of wondering why they left”

Scratching the back of his head, Hunk stumped the other “adults” at the table. Allura and Coran both nursing empty tea cups, with Krolia kicked back and holding her half empty beer near her stomach

“It’s nothing to be worried about. They’ll be fine”

“Yeah, but... Dude, don’t you think she’s been acting weird lately? She doesn’t message me as much as she used to, and she didn’t defend how useful UV light could be to hunting vampires”

Hunk took the bait. Sure, Lance had been leading him

“Keith noticed Pidge isn’t happy and he’s gone to have a chat and make sure she’s okay”

Hunk gaped at him. Lance would have chuckled at his friend’s surprise if he hadn’t squashed his ego down. He didn’t want to hurt Hunk, nor did he particularly enjoy the conversation they needed to have. Shay pressed her lips together for half a moment in thought, before breaking her silence

“I can’t remember anything that would have upset her. Are you sure she’s upset?”

“Pidge is learning how much adulting sucks. We’re all in relationships now. We don’t do the fun things we used to do together. We don’t have games night anymore. We don’t hunt. Her best friend is moving in with his girlfriend and she wants to be involved. You guys haven’t done anything technically wrong, she just misses the old times. She’d decapitate me for the hell of it if she heard me. She’s feeling a little insecure right now, but Keith’ll calm her down”

Hunk immediately teared up. Nooo. Not Hunk tears. Whenever Hunk got teary, he did too

“I didn’t... I didn’t realise”

The first tear rolled down Lance’s cheek, causing him to sigh at himself mentally. He was so weak when it came to Hunk tears

“That’s because you haven’t done anything wrong. I’d be mad if you had and my face wound be all scary. Everyone grows and changes. Keith and I can hardly deny we’re very focused on each other. It’s really easy to do when you’re in love. Maybe at the end of the night you could suggest a games night? Or you could have her look at properties with you? She’d probably be able to blackmail the realestate agent into giving you cheaper rent...”

“I didn’t...”

“Dude, I know. I’m in no position to talk either. I let her down too. I let all of you guys down. I love you, bro. I love her, too. You guys are my family. Pidge just needs a little reassurance your still best friends for life... I kind of hope they’re not inside too long, I need to pee... I can’t wait for this pregnancy to be over... I want to meet them already”

Allura placed her hand on his shoulder

“I’m sure they’ll be here soon. We all can’t wait to meet them. You and Keith shall be amazing parents”

“Yeah. It’s going to be weird not having them inside me anymore...”

Lance loved it when they moved. He loved resting his hands on his belly and feeling them moving. Already so full of life. He loved belly rubs from Keith, and the way Keith cuddled into his stomach, peppering kissed to his stretched skin as if trying to kiss their twins through it. But everything else was getting too much. The joint pain. The fatigue. The constant heavy feeling in his chest. The last week of feeling constantly ill. His stupid yoyoing ego that couldn’t understand how a pregnancy had weakened him so much. The fits of anger. His overly active sense of smell. He was tired... and tired of waiting... but he... he also wanted to wait until he went into labour naturally so he could keep feeling them inside of him. For years he’d wondered how it’d feel to be human again. To fall in love and do all the other amazing things humans did... He’d never felt more human than in the last month of his pregnancy. He wasn’t sure he could mentally cope with his ego if he and Keith did chose to wait much longer. Mums to be were amazing. Movies just didn’t do justice to all the ups and downs of pregnancy. Feeling a tingling in his skin, Lance looked down at his arm, realising he was starting to burn under the lack of cloud cover. He wanted to give Keith and Pidge privacy, but if he stayed outside much longer, he’d go up in flames... Then again, Keith did say he was “smoking hot”.

Lance’s living room had also been transformed. The same bunting that hung outside, hung from everywhere it could inside. Stopping by the bathroom, Lance waddled in on Keith and Pidge mid-hug. Keith probably didn’t know what to do with being hugged so fiercely, still, it was a nice moment between the pair of them

“Hey, guys. Got room for one more?”

Breaking the hug, Pidge moved to make space between her and Keith. Lance waddling over to drop himself down between the pair of them. Yeah. Keith had a point. Maybe it’d be better to deliver early rather than feel cramping when he sat wrong, or sat too fast. He’d recognised that with fatigue came pain sensitivity. Small cramps had been happening more often over the last week, and he’d been reduced to crying over them more than once.

Leaning in, Keith kissed his cheek, Lance smiling at the action because he was so grossly in love with Keith that even a small kiss still managed to make him feel a million times better

“I thought I left you outside?”

Lance moved to show Keith the start of the sunburn on his arm. He’d run it under cold water to ease the burn, but it was still warm and tender to the touch

“You did. Apparently too much sun is bad for vampires... who would have thought?”

“I did wonder if I should find you an umbrella...”

“I’m fine. Plus, I’ve got my two favourite people here, so I thought I’d come stock up on some love”

Excusing himself to the bathroom, Lance knew he’d upset Hunk yet Hunk had to figure out how to make things right with Pidge without his meddling. He probably could have been more tactful about things, and picked a better time to bring the subject up. This was supposed to be party, not a counselling session. Feeling the twins kicking up a storm, he took Pidge’s hand, placing it on his belly. His friends were good about not just touching his belly without asking first, Pidge the one who seemed to hesitate the most when it came to feeling him being bashed up internally

“I think they know that their Aunty Pidge is here”

“Either that or they’ve inherited Keith’s inability to sit still”

Keith pouted, Pidge poking her tongue at him causing the werewolf to huff

“Lance is just as bad as I am”

“Lance has changed a lot since you came into our lives. You both have. You can tell you two are dating. You’ve got that old married couple vibe where you finish each other’s sentences and sound the same”

Lance couldn’t deny it. Keith had picked up so many of the expressions he used. And Lance had definitely picked up Keith’s habit of swearing openly.

“That’s what happens when you fall in love. Actually, Keith and I have something to tell you. We’re madly grossly in love, not just in love”

Pidge rolled her eyes at him

“I already know that. One bite between you and you’ve both turned into idiots”

“You know what they say, “Once bitten, twice stupid””

“Dude, it’s “once bitten, twice shy”. But I like your one better. You bit Keith to save his life and you both turned into love struck morons with a shared brain cell between you”

Keith frowned heavily at Pidge’s joke, Lance snorting due to how true it was

“He really does feel like the other half of me. I’d be happy to share a brain cell with him any day of the week. I know you’re worried about the future, but you’re always going to be a sister to me, and an aunt to the twins. No more sad, Pidge, not when she’s a scary little ankle biting gremlin that we all love”

Pidge pulled her hand back, looking to her lap

“Hey, you know I’m proud of you, Katie. You’ve been through a heck of a lot, like the rest of us. Things might have changed and they might be scary, but you’ll always have a home here with us... provided you don’t bring your work home and destroy my house with your experiments”

Pidge groaned deeply

“You blow up a circuit board once and they never let you forget it. And, if you call me “Katie” again, I’m going to give you a dead arm to go with that dead body of yours”

“Oh no! The gremlin’s getting angry. Quick, babe. You’d better make her a coffee before her wrath descends upon us”

“Fuck you”

“I’m flattered, but I’m in a loving and committed relationship... I mean, if I were two decades younger...”

Pidge punched his arm to shut him up

“You suck”

Lance continued with his shit stirring mood

“Quite well, don’t I, babe?”

“I’m not getting into this, but yes”

“See, my skills have got Keith’s stamp of approval”

“You’re going to have my footprint stamped to your arse if you keep traumatising me like this”

Wrapping his arms around his gremlin, Lance kissed her hair. Pidge trying to shove him off

“I love it when you’re mean. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you”

“Keith, help. Lance is being weird”

Keith hefted him back so Lance was laying awkwardly in his arms looking up at his fiancé. Bopping him on the nose, Lance went cross eyed as Keith let his finger hover

“Babe, leave the bitey creature alone. She’s fine. More importantly, did you put cream on your arm?”

Lance didn’t really prescribe to the use of burn cream seeing he healed on his own. Cold water would forever be the best things for burns

“Burn cream isn’t always good for burns, aaaaand the aloe vera is in our bathroom. Which is upstairs, and totally too much effort right now”

“You can’t ignore it. Where else got burnt?”

“I don’t know. Stop picking on me. I thought we were picking on Pidge”

“We’ve done that. I’ll grab the aloe vera, and Pidge can get you some blood. We have the whole day to relax... provided no one’s gone and planned party games”

Pidge burst that bubble. That tiny bubble of maybe fitting an uncaught nap in... This fatigue thing was ridiculous

“Oh, dude. There’s totally party games. We’re going to set up penalty beer pong under lunch”

Keith scrunched his brow. From how he was positioned, Lance kind of wanted to poke his finger right up Keith’s nose. It was like his nose was staring down at him, begging to be poked

“Should I be worried?”

Lance didn’t like to brag, but beer pong was his jam. His first time through college not so much, second time, he was pretty much undefeated. With how long it took to set up, it wasn’t usually one of their party games. Poor Keith had no idea what penalty beer pong had in store for him, Lance would have to defend his fiancé’s honour

“Seeing it’ll be you and Lance facing off, you should definitely be worried. Buuuut I totally didn’t tell you that. If you two are going to keep being gross, I’m going to go back to the party”

Whelp. Keith was on his own then... It was nice knowing him

“It’s okay, Pidgeon. Go forth and abandon us. Leave us... be that way... We’ll be back out as soon as I’ve had some blood and this sunburn starts healing. Maybe I should change into something longer, I don’t want to burst into flames at my own baby shower”

Keith bopped him on the nose again, before helping Lance sit back up

“That’s probably a good idea, babe. You’re smoking hot as it is. That’d make you literally flaming hot”

Pidge was completely right. They really did share one brain cell. The idea leaving a stupidly huge grin on his face that Pidge called “creepy” before leaving the pair of them.

Penalty beer pong... of all the things they could have played, they’d chosen some kind of abomination that belonged in hell. After lunch, Hunk had taken Lance aside, while Matt and Pidge took Keith inside. Both of them forced to wear headphones so they couldn’t hear each others answers to the questions for their friends had prepared. Keith felt very very dumb. 20 questions on Lance should have been easy... but their friends had really wracked their brains being creative and going for the odd, mostly unknowable things that he was supposed to know about his “boyfriend”.

With the living area the only place big enough to fit all of them, the coffee table was covered with a thick piece of plywood where the cups were set up. Keith didn’t like to admit that he’d never played beer pong. He’d never had the kinds of friends that did, nor did he go to college. One of the more popular games at Blade headquarters was darts with knives instead of darts, and vampire faces for targets. You took a shot if you failed to stick the knife in the vampire when it was your throw. He’d never been invited to play with James and the rest of them... He and Shiro used to have shooting target competitions, but that was just the pair of them with the winner getting out of some mundane house chore, that Adam usually scolded them about.

Kneeling across from him, they’d both avoided the penalty cups so far. Keith thought not getting the ball in one meant not having to drink what was it in. No. Instead the penalty was played out for each question they got wrong about each other. Each cup contained some kind of condiment construction Keith really wanted to avoid. It started tame, first with chilli sauce, then soy, then vinegar... slowly progressing in quantity and combination. The last cup was a grotesque mix of what seemed to be a little of everything from Lance’s pantry. Having swapped questionnaires, Hunk and Matt were their quiz masters. They were fifteen questions in, Keith not feeling the effects of the vodka he’d had to chug when Lance got the ping pong ball in his cups. His fiancé, not able to drink, was delegated water. Keith wasn’t sure that Lance actually won anything from playing against him seeing he’d have to pee the moment the game was done.

“Lance. What is Keith’s most annoying habit?”

Throwing the ping pong ball, his fiancé landed it perfectly in the cup. That’s how it went. Question, throw, answer, shot...

“His amazingly lacking self confidence since turning into a werewolf”

His damn fiancé got that one right... like the rest of them.

“Keith. How many years, combined, did Lance spend attending University?”

How the fuck was he supposed to know that? He didn’t know how long it took to be a lawyer... he didn’t know how long it took, or if Lance had any recognition of prior training to drop the amount of time he was required to study, plus his fiancé was a smart little shit... Lance looked sympathies and smug at the same time. Yeah. His questions were far easier than Keith’s had been. Tossing the retrieved ping pong ball, it landed in one of the penalty cups

“Um... I’m going to with... um... 12 years”

Lance groaned, Keith knowing he’d gotten the answer wrong. Matt delighted in telling him

“11 years and six months. Apparently being a lawyer in the early 90’s meant less time in class... Your first penalty shot is chilli sauce. Bottoms up”

If a jalapeño’s had sex with another jalapeño, then their offspring continued in breeding, that would only explain the fire in Keith’s mouth. His eyes running as his throat burned. That wasn’t simple chilli sauce in there

“God... it burns... what the hell is that?”

“Ghost pepper sauce”

Lance shot Matt a glare

“That’s not very nice. You guys are dicks”

Matt shrugged at Keith fanned his burning mouth

“Then he shouldn’t have gotten the question wrong”

“We didn’t really talk about it. Babe, you okay? Rieva, can you get Keith some milk, please. You guys are banned from giving Keith chilli ever again”

“Chill, dude. He’ll survive. Right, it’s your turn”

Lance plucked the ball from what looked to be soy sauce, unamused Keith’s ego wanted to flip the stupid board of cups over. Their friends were slightly laughing at his reaction to the chilli and Rieva hadn’t gone to get him a glass of milk

“Okay, Lance. What’s Keith’s deepest secret that he’s hiding at he moment?”

Keith had answered “He’d always believe in mothman until his dying breath”. Lance hummed at the question

“That he doesn’t hate Lotor as much as he says... it’s either that, something to with me, or something to do with his crush on mothman”

“Correct...”

No. That wasn’t correct at all! The game was rigged

“You two didn’t bother telling us that you’re engaged! Which is a secret to do with Lance, so technically correct!”

Suddenly Keith got the feeling that beer pong was less about what they knew about each other and more about what the group suspected and wanted to confirm

“They’re what?!”

From Pidge’s yelling, she mustn’t have been in on it... So this was all Matt’s idea to get them to confess to their secret engagement?! He could strangle him for putting them both on the spot like this. Right. He could play it cool... yep. No secret here

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb, dude. We found the empty ring box in your bedside drawers. Why didn’t you tell us?! Do you know how happy we are for you guys?! This is awesome... Maybe not as awesome as Rieva saying yes to me, but we’re supposed to be your friends! We need to have a party to celebrate this”

Ahhhh. Keith wanted to laugh in relief. They hadn’t been caught yet, and now it seemed like a pretty fun idea to mess with Matt for going through their things

“That’s was from Krolia. There was never any ring in that box”

“You expect us to believe that?”

Keith glanced to his mother, Krolia shrugging as the others also looked to her

“Miriam and I both thought they’d make the cutest grooms. It’s not my fault he hasn’t proposed yet”

“What makes you think I’d be the one asking? Lance could always ask me, right, babe?”

“Yep. I totally could have been the one to ask him”

Sharing a look, Matt and Hunk both chuckled. Their “Sunshine Teddy” shaking his head

“Man, we all know Lance is the romantic one. He’d spend everyday waiting for you to ask, rather than asking you. Then, he’d expect the whole fairytale night. Dinner at a fancy restaurant. A bouquet of red roses as big as him...”

Hunk counted on his fingers, Matt adding as Hunk stalled mid-thought

“Don’t forget the champagne and the hotel room”

Hunk quickly counted those two on his fingers

“Yep. Lance is too much of a romantic”

Matt nodded quickly

“He’d drop hints too... Romcoms. Jewellery brochures... Though you’d probably miss them like you missed Valentine’s Day”

The pair were ganging up on him, Keith depressed about the fact they were right. Lance would have loved all that, but his fiancé didn’t need all that. He’d proposed in a horrible hotel room...

“Keith is romantic. Sure, his idea of good date is a trip to a shooting range, or some other combat related activity, but he’s very romantic. I don’t need all the fuss, I just need him”

Hunk faked feeling faint as he grabbed Matt by the arm, Matt playing it up and acting as if he were concerned

“Hunk?!”

“I’m okay... I never thought I’d live to hear Lance say something so unLance like. Pregnancy has changed you, man. Next thing you’ll give up watching your soap operas... Dude, my heart can’t handle the changes”

Keith mentally thanked Lance for trying to stick up for him. He wasn’t the world’s greatest fiancé, yet he felt better that Lance thought he was good enough for him. His fiancé had more to say on the matter

“You two keep picking on Keith. He’s awkward and he’s a little emo, but he makes me happy. We could get engaged in a room so dingy that Jesus couldn’t save it, and I’d still be happy”

Hunk waved his arm, kind of weirdly and kind of as if he were trying to gesture “how big this was”. Keith felt his lips turn upwards as Lance pretty much told everyone they’d gotten engaged while away, yet none of their friends would put two and two together

“But as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always been a sucker for those big movie engagement scenes”

“Movies aren’t real life. Matt, that box wasn’t any of your business. What were you doing in our room?”

“Helping Shiro and Curtis build your present. We were looking for an adjustable spanner”

Lance leaned back to rest his weight on his hands, bottom lip wobbling

“You know the tools are kept in the laundry, and you know you’re not supposed to be in my room...”

“We were...”

No one messed with Lance’s room, or his bed. Lance washed and changed the sheets alone, swapping the blankets whenever the whim took over

“I don’t care. I’m sorry, but I can’t... I need air”

Keith jumped to his feet before Lance started started struggling to his. As Coran went to help the vampire, Lance slapped his hand away with a sad “sorry”. Moving to Lance’s side, Keith looped his arm around his waist

“You guys can take over playing. No listening in”

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

5 notes · View notes