skillmine24

[coldswarkids]

HE GOT THE JOB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[the-faramir]

Extinction Curse Session 2024/07/17

The Siege of Willowside

Day 4 (Part 3)

"All right," Midori sighed, "let's change the course of this battle!"

She sang:

🎶🎶🎶

The Vengaboys attackin'

Our defenses lackin'

So let's take out their leader

An' their resolve will teeter!

🎶🎶🎶

She feinted against Leodrick and followed up with a misguided rapier strike.

Zookdar, Fizzarolli, and Nefarsia focused on the strange, gray, three-armed being, who cast a trio of spells at Midori with no effect.

"My allies," The Redeemer shouted from the far end of the room, "that is a quelaunt. It will be your downfall if you insist on fighting it along with these two. I shall lock it away!" He summoned a wall of stone to cut off the quelaunt (and the chamber from which it emerged) from the party.

Midori turned to Zookdar. "Was The Redeemer with us this whole time?"

Zookdar shrugged. "He must have been. Only three ways in, and he didn't come through either one since you entered."

Leodrick and Tashlock coordinated attacks against Midori, who looked a bit bloodied. She held up a hand to interrupt. "Hey, hey, gentlemen! Ya almost got me. But before I go..." She pulled out a deck of cards and began shuffling. "...let me show ya a li'l card trick. Pick a card!" She held out the deck in mid-shuffle, reversing its direction toward the Banyan Boys, and released the cards into a fluttering cascade in the air...covering her escape as she ran to hide behind Nefarsia in the corner. "Ha ha! So long, suckers!"

Zookdar attempted to sing,

🎶🎶🎶

Brave Midori ran away!

Bravely ran away away!

🎶🎶🎶

Midori peeked out from behind Nefarsia's bulk and insisted, "No!"

🎶🎶🎶

When danger reared its ugly head,

She bravely turned her tails and fled.

🎶🎶🎶

Midori protested, "Merely a strategic retreat!"

Zookdar shouted a battle cry at Tashlock, frightening him away through the previously unopened door in the east. The rest of the party focused their attacks on Leodrick. Unfortunately, Leodrick managed to knock out Nefarsia.

Midori sang a verse to inspire courage (mostly in herself):

🎶🎶🎶

Bravely bold Midori

Ran a quick retreat.

But I am not afraid to die,

No, not brave Midori!

I am not at all afraid

To be killed in nasty ways.

Brave, brave, brave, brave Midori!

🎶🎶🎶

She flung a telekinetic projectile at Leodrick, but missed. Zookdar also missed. Fizzarolli even missed with a megavolt, but managed a hit with his pike.

The sounds of creatures stirring and growling emanated from the room to the east. Tashlock screamed as he started to run back toward Bokrug's shrine, "No! Oh, gods, no! ZOMBIES!" Four wight cultists shambled after him.

The Redeemer cast a spell to hold the wights in place with tangling creepers.

Unfazed by his brother's plight, Leodrick unleashed a flurry of slashes on Zookdar.

"Oh no, you don't, Leo-dick!" Midori sang another verse:

🎶🎶🎶

Leodrick Banyan,

You are a disgrace to your station

We'll take you down

An' we'll have a celebration

🎶🎶🎶

She focused her thoughts and unleashed a telekinetic projectile at the eldest Banyan, hitting him squarely in the forehead. "Ha ha! Yeah, how do ya like me know, bitch?"

Fizzarolli and Zookdar followed up with more attacks on Leodrick, then Fizzarolli decided to run toward the door in the east to assist in holding back the wights. Leodrick struck at his back as he fled, and the little poppet cried out in a fit of histrionics as he hit the floor.

Leodrick paused to look at his fallen opponent. "What...what just happened here?" He stared at the poppet for a moment while The Redeemer ran up to the doorway in the east and fiddled with a mechanism he had pulled out of his pouch. Leodrick shrugged and turned his attention back to Zookdar, striking with his longsword.

Tashlock screamed something about zombies, then ran into the Bokrug chamber, tripping over and activating The Redeemer's trap. He pulled himself off the floor and continued to run toward Leodrick, shouting, "Brother, let's get out of here! What the heck is going on?"

Midori sang a verse:

🎶🎶🎶

Things are getting out of hand

Now there are two of them

So let's continue like we planned

And stop all of their mayhem

🎶🎶🎶

She fired a projectile at Leodrick, missing him by inches.

A pair of wight cultists entered from the east, triggering The Redeemer's trap twice more. Seeing the new enemies, The Redeemer cast chain lightning to strike them along with the Banyan Boys. Leodrick and Tashlock attacked Zookdar and Fizzarolli, respectively.

Midori sang,

🎶🎶🎶

Take out the leader

He's too much we feel

Take out the leader

This would be ideal!

🎶🎶🎶

Following a hitnfrom Midori's telekinetic projectile and a hit from Zookdar's gnome flickmace, Leodrick finally fell!

But, much to everybody's surprise, the ghost of a large man emerged from Leodrick's corpse, shouting, "You've ruined my toy!"

Zookdar turned to Midori and asked, "Hey, Midori, isn't that one of your people? Can't you reason with him?"

Midori shot the gnome an indignant glance as Tashlock struck at Fizzarolli. "Whadda ya mean, 'You people'?"

Midori sang a verse:

🎶🎶🎶

The Banyans possessed by ghosts?

So we have to slay the hosts

So I'll just have to take it higher

By setting dear Tashlock on fire!

🎶🎶🎶

She focused her energy into her words, making them too hot for Tashlock to handle. "For shame, Tashlock! You fight us as if we are your enemies, but you know damned well that we are allies! Feel the burn of your own vile actions!" As Tashlock heard the magic words, his clothing and skin caught on fire.

Fizzarolli also struck true against Tashlock, right before the wight cultists swarmed him as well, carving the human with their enchanted ranseurs.

Seeing that Zookdar was about to fall, The Redeemer cast a regeneration spell on him. His hopes renewed, the gnome shouted a battle cry at Tashlock, causing him to flee for the room in the east. Still afire, the younger Banyan collapsed into the water, never to move again. No ghost emerged from his corpse.

Midori shouted, "Oh, shit! Were we not supposed to kill him?"

As the ghost formerly identifying as Leodrick assaulted Fizzarolli with its painful touch, the poppet called out, "Focus on the ghost! The ghost!"

However, the swarming undead cultists forced the heroes to fight multiple enemies at once. The Redeemer and Zookdar did fall in battle, only to be revised by regeneration spells.

Midori sang:

🎶🎶🎶

The tides are turning

Our enemies are decreasing

But this ghost should be burning

And his undead soul releasing!

🎶🎶🎶

She followed up with a string of burning invectives aimed at the ghost: "You washed-up...translucent...um...ghost? How'd you like to play with fire?" The ghost only laughed at her botched spell. He laughed more when Fizzarolli missed him with his boarding pike.

Finally, Zookdar steeled himself and yelled, "It's the final push! Time to smite some evil!" The head of his gnome flickmace, glowing white with positive energy, smashed through the ectoplasmic body of the ghost, dispersing its soul and ghostly body throughout the chamber. Without their leader to control them, the wight cultists withered and collapsed to the ground.

Midori looked around. "Is it over? Did we win?" She glanced around the room. "Yes! Way to go, Zook!"

The party searched the area and found crates of ranseurs, shields, healing potions, and entrenching tools that would serve Willowside well during the siege.

LEVEL UP: LEVEL 14!

[subtile-jagden]

Oswald Boelcke - Part 3

Der Meister

The war diary of the squadron reads on August 27th, 1916: “Jagdstaffel 2 meets under the leadership of Captain Boelcke. Officers and enlisted men come from different departments. Existing: 3 officers, 64 non-commissioned officers and enlisted men. - Accommodation: officers live in Bertincourt, enlisted men in barracks. - Airplanes: there aren't any yet. - Activity: setting up the airport.” Boelcke had a lot of work to do in the following weeks to get the unit fully operational. In early September Richthofen and Boehme arrived, as well as Max Müller (a very successful Bavarian pilot, see: https://www.tumblr.com/subtile-jagden/714297390685929472/just-finished-this-book-about-max-ritter-von?source=share). On the 2nd September Boelcke used one of the three so far arrived aeroplanes and shot down his 20th victory. This highly puplished event hit like a bomb; after all, the people hadn't heard from Boelcke for almost two months. As Boelcke was almost the only one with a plane, he flew a lot and shot down five enemies in the first half of September. Finally, on the 17th September some more machines arrived so that the Staffel could fly together for the first time, resulting in victories for Boelcke, Böhme, Richthofen and Reimann. About his new students he writes his parents: “My gentlemen are all very passionate and eager and capable, but I still have to train them to properly work together – in their eargerness to achieve something, they sometimes still are like young dachshunds.”

Boelcke, like most of the pilots, had no personal contempt against his opponents: “We have nothing at all against the individual pilot, we only fight his flying against us.”

Just as they were able to complete their set-up, English bombers and artillery attacked Bertincourt, causing Boelcke to move his Staffel. By then Boelcke was able to up his victory list to 31. The fighting on the Somme weakened significantly, partly because the fighter pilots' excellent performance ensured that enemy aviators were no longer able to see behind German lines. Boelcke enjoyed great popularity with his men. He was strict and demanding but never without reason. “It is difficult to express with what devotion and love we clung to him in our inner circle of comrades. Never before has a comrade been loved by his comrades, a superior by his subordinates, as he has.”

In his last ever letter, Boelcke told his parents about his 35th victory on the 17th October. On the 26th he shot down number 40. On the 28th his life was over.

The End

The stress of the hard fights and worries about the future did not go unnoticed. “My captain became more and more serious and haggard”, reported Boelcke's orderly. On some day he went up seven times and on the ground he had a lot of organisational work to do. He was supposed to go on leave but “I am needed here!”. At seven a.m. first reports of English planes over the lines alerted Boelcke to start with his own men to fight them off. Four times they went up, all that before it was even noon. At around five p.m. they were called upon once more for help.

Oswald Boelcke is undefeated in the air. No enemy brought him down. It was unfortunately one of his own man who collided with him in what was a pure accident. Erwin Böhme, handpicked by Boelcke to join him and a great admirer of him, writes to his fiancé about the tragic event: “Boelcke and I had an Englishman between us when another enemy, being chased by friend Richthofen, cut our way. Boelcke and I, hampered by our wings, didn't see each other for a moment while we were avoiding each other at lightning speed - and that's when it happened. Our planes brushed against each other, just a light touch, but fatal at the high speeds. Fate is usually so cruelly unreasonable in its choice: only one side of the undercarriage was torn away from me, the outermost piece of the left wing was torn away from him. I had to see how he couldn't straighten his machine anymore and how he crashed next to a battery position. I was utterly distraught, but still had hope. But when we got there in the car, the body was already being brought towards us. He died instantly at the moment of impact. Boelcke never wore a crash helmet and didn't buckle up in the Albatros either - otherwise he might have survived the not-too-violent impact.” Manfred von Richthofen also reported on the incident: “I look around and observe how Boelcke is attacking his victim about 200 m next to me. A good friend of his flies by. Both shot - the Englishman was about to fall at any moment. Suddenly, an unnatural movement can be observed in the two airplanes. I had never witnessed a mid-air collision and had imagined it to be much different. It was just a touch. But at the speed that such an airplane has, every light touch is a violent impact.”

Interesting is the fact, that Richthofen doesn´t mention going after an enemy himself, crossing in front of Boelcke and Böhme. Maybe he did not realize that he did, maybe it was not something that the public should know. Richthofens account is in his biography “Der Rote Kampfflieger”, published at the hight of his popularity. To give the impression that he was partially to blame for Boelcke's death would be fatal.

In the end no one was to blame as it was a truly unfortunate accident. But of course Boehme was devastated. “Outwardly, I've got myself under control again to some extent. But in the quiet hours I always remember the horrible moment when I had to see my master and friend fall next to me - the nagging question arises again and again: Why did he, the irreplaceable one, and not I have to be the victim of this blind fate - because neither he nor I was to blame for the disaster?!”. When Boelckes family came to escort his body home, they met with Böhme and a friendship betweem them was formed that lasted until Boehmes own death one year one month and one day after Boelcke´s.

The death of this national hero sent a shockwave through the Empire and the German front lines. Boelcke is no more!

On the 31st October 1916 the funeral ceremony took place in Cambrai. The coffin was laid out in front of the altar of the cathedral. Crown Prince Rupprecht of Bavaria appeared at the head of the generals, and General von Below represented the Kaiser. Manfred von Richthofen carried Boelcke's Ordenskissen (pillow with all his medals).

He was laid to rest in his home town of Dessau.

On the front the fight rages on. New pilots filled the gaps of the fallen. Inspired by Boelcke's spirit, best expressed by General Thomsen: "I want to be a Boelcke!"

Sources:

Boelcke, by Prof. Dr. Johannes Werner (1932)

Der Rote Kampfflieger, by Manfred von Richthofen (1917)

Briefe eines deutschen Kampffliegers an ein junges Mädchen, by Prof. Dr. Johannes Werner (1930)

Immelmann, der Adler von Lille, by Franz Immelmann (1934)

[archduchessofnowhere]

"It is a feast for the eyes to see the happiness and harmony that radiates from them": Archduchess Sophie's reaction to her son's engagement (part 2)

Continuation of the letter Archduchess Sophie wrote to her twin sister Queen Marie of Saxony on the ocassion of Franz Josef and his cousin Elisabeth's engagement (part 1 is here):

The Emperor's gentlemen are delighted about his choice and full of touching joy about his happiness. Grünne [Emperor Franz Josef's adjutant general] cries as often as he speaks of it and as often as they speak to him of it. - Unfortunately, the weather was bad on the 18th, but it was perhaps favourable, as the Emperor could devote himself all the more to his young love. At the family dinner the Emperor was so proud that Sisi, who was allowed to sit next to him, had eaten with a very good appetite!… (The afternoon excursion took place in the carriage due to bad weather). He [the emperor] must have been very fond of her to have lasted so long in the closed Caleche! Lenza [Helene] talked a lot and was entertaining, the girl has a great charm for me, my eyes followed her, and that is always the case when I have sympathy for a young person. But you can well imagine that my eyes are also busy looking at Sisi, and they rest with delight on this happy couple who love each other so much and in such a charming way; it is a feast for the eyes to see the happiness and harmony that radiates from them. After the promenade, the Emperor came to me and I noticed that he had something on his mind and wanted to talk to me. I asked him if he had anything to say. He replied: 'Yes much, yes much!' Jokingly I sent Bubi into the other room and there he said I should ask Luise to find out from Sisi whether she wanted him, 'but', he added with his usual modesty, 'ask her not to exert any pressure on her daughter'. Then he said: 'My situation is so difficult that, God knows, it is no pleasure to share it with me!' Then I said: 'But dear child, how can you believe that a woman is not too happy to ease your situation by grace and cheerfulness?'… When Luise came to tea, I gradually acquainted her with the Emperor's wish. She pressed my hand with emotion, for in her great modesty she had always doubted that the Emperor would really think of one of her daughters. In the evening I could not refrain from saying to Elise [likely the Queen of Prussia, Sophie and Ludovika's elder sister] and the brothers as I passed by: 'I am so happy!'…When Luise spoke of the Emperor's intentions to Sisi, the latter was completely moved and looked at her mother with her deep gaze, so radiant and enchanting and with her seductive smile; and when the mother asked if she could love him, she said: 'How should one not be able to love the man?' Then she burst into tears and assured me that she would do everything to make the Emperor happy and to be the most tender child for me. 'But,' she said, 'how can he think of me? I am so insignificant!' - This word proves that she is not. The next day or the day after - I don't remember, because in these days we were so fortunate in a few hours that one can no longer count the time - it seemed to us all again and again as if we had been in possession of this happiness for a long time, and yet it has only existed for four days… on one of these days Sisi said to Kadi this charming word: 'I love the Emperor so much! If only he were not an emperor…!' That is what makes her so shy, this future position. The Emperor was literally delighted when I told him this touching saying from his bride, as it contains so much deep and undemanding understanding for him.

Luise wrote me a few touching words on the evening of the 18th, which I received on the morning of the 19th. I quickly sent them to the Emperor, who immediately appeared at my house, beaming with joy. At 8 o'clock he went to the hotel to Luise, who told him of her joy, and then rushing towards Sisi, the two of them fell into each other's arms, as Luise then told me: and she was so pleased about it! We smiled with tears, Elise and I, when she described it to us. You can't imagine how much and how often we laugh now, Elise and I… When they left the hotel to have breakfast with us, the Emperor gave his bride his arm, and when Kadi and Fischer (the Court Counsellor, as the little ones respectfully call him) saw this, they could no longer doubt that everything was all right, and were heartily pleased about it.

You can't imagine how lovely Sisi is when she cries…! My Karl, Charlotte and brother Karl [Prince of Bavaria, Sophie and Ludovika's elder brother] came to dejeuner. They were delighted when I introduced them to the young couple! I sent for Fritzi and Paula, they were all puffy and red from crying. The Emperor sent for Grünne and his other winged adjutants to introduce them to his bride… At 11 o'clock we all went to mass, which the Emperor had especially wished for. The priest received us with holy water, his eyes full of tears! …"

[belle-keys]

parts of some classic lit that hit different for me

“Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope. They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only Beauty. There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written. That is all.”

- the iconic piece on books and morality from The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read, since I first came here, the rough common boy whose poor heart you wounded even then. You have been in every prospect I have ever seen since – on the river, on the sails of the ships, on the marshes, in the clouds, in the light, in the darkness, in the wind, in the woods, in the sea, in the streets. You have been the embodiment of every graceful fancy that my mind has ever become acquainted with. The stones of which the strongest London buildings are made, are not more real, or more impossible to displace with your hands, than your presence and influence have been to me, there and everywhere, and will be. Estella, to the last hour of my life, you cannot choose but remain part of my character, part of the little good in me, part of the evil. But, in this separation I associate you only with the good, and I will faithfully hold you to that always, for you must have done me far more good than harm, let me feel now what sharp distress I may. O God bless you, God forgive you!

- the “you are in every line I have ever read” tyrade in Great Expectations by Charles Dickens

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.

- the whole opening of Lolita by Vladimir Nabakov

My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff's miseries, and I watched and felt each from the beginning: my great thought in living is himself. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it. My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff! He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.

- Catherine’s confession about Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately an only son (for many years an only child), I was spoilt by my parents, who, though good themselves (my father, particularly, all that was benevolent and amiable), allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond my own family circle; to think meanly of all the rest of the world; to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Such I was, from eight to eight and twenty; and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you, I was properly humbled. I came to you without a doubt of my reception. You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.

- Darcy admitting the big truth to Lizzy in Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss. I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, prosperous and happy. I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendants, generations hence. It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.

- Sydney Carton’s last words (*crying*) in A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

You cling so tightly to your purity, my lad! How terrified you are of sullying your hands. Well, go ahead then, stay pure! What good will it do, and why even bother coming here among us? Purity is a concept of fakirs and friars. But you, the intellectuals, the bourgeois anarchists, you invoke purity as your rationalization for doing nothing. Do nothing, don’t move, wrap your arms tight around your body, put on your gloves. As for myself, my hands are dirty. I have plunged my arms up to the elbows in excrement and blood. And what else should one do? Do you suppose that it is possible to govern innocently?

- Hoederer being a realistic bad bitch, that’s what, in Les Mains Sales by Jean-Paul Sartre

I couldn’t forgive him or like him, but I saw that what he had done was, to him, entirely justified. It was all very careless and confused. They were careless people, Tom and Daisy—they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made.

The “they were careless people” realization in The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

‘Hateful day when I received life!' I exclaimed in agony. 'Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust? God, in pity, made man beautiful and alluring, after his own image; but my form is a filthy type of yours, more horrid even from the very resemlance. Satan had his companions, fellow-devils, to admire and encourage him; but I am solitary and abhorred.'

Frankenstein’s monster’s teenage angst in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein

[cherry-lipbalm]

double trouble. spencer reid.

4.8k words.

masterlist

where y/n pulls the short straw and has to double up with spencer.

There is a chart within the BAU: a solid, concise graph that portrays, arguably the most, vital information within the FBI. Intricately designed, Garcia and Y/N had managed to construct a comprehensible guide to who in the team was the most pleasant to share a room with. At first it was a joke, originated from a slow day of nothing but paperwork Y/N had spent in Garcia's lair. Conversations arose, and soon after so did the chart.

It's built up on categories such as conversation, tidiness, sleeping conditions and even hygiene. There are ten available points per category, and Emily loses said ten points for sleeping conditions because her snores can be heard from China. The points are the basis of the game, essential in order to rank the team individually and compile them into a list of favourability. Spencer is at the bottom of that list.

"I don't get it, I'm a delight," Spencer argued, strolling alongside Morgan up the small flight of stairs to the BAU room. Another case had forced them to prepare for the jet in 30 minutes, but Hotch and the rest of the team had very different perspectives on preparation. Especially after what he said when they entered the room.

"Okay, before we start you should know I called ahead to book a hotel and they had limited rooms. We all have one but you're going to have to double up."

Y/N had never seen an American Western movie before, but she imagined that the cliché standoff looked a lot like what happened in the BAU room subsequent to that announcement. Those that had been sitting launched to their feet, uncaring to the chairs rolling free behind them. If someone was holding something it dropped onto the table, or even the floor. Communication faltered, and all anyone dared to do was stare at each other.

When Hotch looked up from his file, he had to do a double take because of the drastic change in atmosphere. His team were all standing metres apart; Y/N had a hand over her gun.

"I think we all know what this calls for," she said.

"Get it," Morgan gestured to the back of the room. Y/N's movement caused a surge of motion as everyone sat at the table attentively. Hotch tried to turn the attention back to the screen with the crime scene photos, but even JJ was more focused on the whiteboard rolling into the room.

Y/N stood by it's side, and on her way forced Hotch into a seat. She grabbed the top corner and flipped it over to reveal the coloured array of pie charts, bullet-points and bar charts.

"I still don't see why this is necessary," Spencer whined from the back of the room.

"I don't see why you've obviously spent more time and effort on this than any of your cases," Hotch added.

"Okay, you two are just jealous because you're at the bottom of the list," Y/N snarked, then addressed the team. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today, in holy matrimony, to judge your fellow coworkers and deem who is the least likeable. Spoiler alert: it's Spencer."

At this, the aforementioned agent threw his pen directly at Y/N's head. She shrieked, then turned to him with a glare as she tried to untangle it from her hair. He laughed wholeheartedly, and the team snickered not only at Spencer's attack but the way they were so obviously and obliviously in love with each other.

"This chart makes no sense! I mean, how do I only have five points for hygiene? We all know I'm the cleanest out of everyone here."

"I agree with you Spencer," Y/N said, "your hygiene is at a ten point standard but unfortunately people don’t want to compete with said ten point standard, so that loses you five points, gorgeous.”

Spencer didn't reply (only sulked into his seat), half because he's shocked by the injustice of the chart and the other half because he's shocked Y/N just called him gorgeous.

"Alright! The hat, please," She exclaimed, enticing Spencer from his trance. Garcia presented the fedora over the table, and Y/N began talking immediately when she saw Hotch's mouth open in objection because were they really using the fedora from the unsub they caught last week?

Only four people took turns in picking names out of the hat; ever since in incident in '04 where lack of coordination made for everyone picking a name of someone who had already picked someone else. It resulted in a few brawls when Morgan wouldn't budge from his choice of Garcia even though his name had been pulled by Reid.

It never took them long to pick names out of desperation, considering the name-picking determined how the next 24 + hours were going to go. So when Y/N picked out Spencer's name, no one blamed her when she practically collapsed to the floor.

"That's karma," Spencer said upon her unraveling.

"I thought you didn't believe in karma," she sneered, stomping back onto her feet.

"In situations like these it seems to be the only viable explanation."

Y/N just rolled her eyes at him on her way out of the room, muttering under her breath that she'll be briefed when she's aboard, because she needed a moment alone for a pep-talk on how murdering your colleague apparently isn't socially acceptable.

On her way out, faintly in the background, Morgan caught sight of Emily and JJ fist-bumping victoriously, and realised that Y/N's demise more than certainly involved some foul play. Oh well, he thought, it'll make for good entertainment.

———

"Science shows us that we feel more personally connected with people who have similar postures, vocal rhythms, facial expressions and even eye blinking. If you consciously sync these factors your brain activity could follow, resulting in what many people call 'clicking' wi-"

"I cannot believe you asked me why you lost seven points for conversation and then followed with that."

"What? What's wrong with science?"

"Oh, Spence, you're so gorgeous but so oblivious," Y/N sighed, exhausted from a mixture of jet lag and Spencer's enthusiastic take on the science of conversation. They had only just stepped foot in the room, and she was already drained from the mere thought of having to bunk with him for the next however many hours.

Y/N is quick to throw her things down as soon as they enter the room. She dumps her suitcase by the door and launches a few more things on the cabinets around her, then tries to ignore Spencer's sounds of distaste as she does this. She's frankly too tired to care, and jumps onto the bed without thinking; she's so enervated she doesn't even realise there's only the one bed.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Spencer suddenly asks despite the silence that passed and the obvious fact that Y/N is trying to get some shut eye.

All he receives is an incomprehensible mumble from under the pillows, but he takes it as a response anyway.

"Why do you keep, uh, keep calling me 'gorgeous' I mean, I'm not, uh..." he stammers, fidgeting with the room key in his hands while he stands in front of the wardrobe to make it seem like he's doing something and doesn't care as much as he does.

"I'd say it's pretty self explanatory."

He senses the fatigue in her voice, so just leaves it with a shrug of his shoulders and a content smile, then goes to organising his array of sweater vests onto the hangers. When he's done with this, he turns around to make himself a coffee; taking a different approach to the jet lag than Y/N.

At the thought of her, he looks up to see her sprawled out across the bed. She's clutching onto a pillow and seems so relaxed that Spencer has to look away for a moment because he's more than certain he shouldn't be seeing a coworker like this. Nevertheless, he smiles upon her peaceful ambience, and hopes the boiling kettle doesn't disturb her too much.

When it's done brewing, Spencer sips the coffee cautiously and strides over to a small chair in the corner of the room. Here, Y/N's slumped figure is directly in his view, so he can't help but see her so casually on the bed. Wait, the bed... oh shit.

He knows that the chances of him getting the bed are slim. For one, Y/N's pretty much already claimed that territory, and, even if she hadn't, Spencer knew she'd put up one hell of a fight for it. He only hoped there were some extra blankets and pillows that could aid in making the floor at least somewhat comfortable.

"So, uh, Rock Paper Scissors for the bed?" He asks, then slurps his coffee. His voice rouses Y/N for a moment, and he's sure she's dozed back off again until his words sink in and she turns around to him with bleary eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"One bed. Two people," he says nervously and gestures to the space between them.

And it takes Y/N a moment. She looks from Spencer to the bed, then stares at the pillows for a long while, then she looks at Spencer again, then the bed. Then, she lets out a blood-curdling cry so loud that Reid has to cover his ears.

"Why!" She screams, slamming her hands down on the mattress. Spencer can't help but laugh, snickering behind his hand which only infuriates Y/N more.

"Okay, okay!" He moves to calm her down when he can practically see the steam coming out of her ears, "rock paper scissors, come on."

"Oh, I don't want to do that, Spence," she whines.

"Why? 'Cause you know you'll lose?" With his patronisation he raises an eyebrow at her when he approaches the end of the bed, his fist already raised. His condescension makes Y/N irrefutably stubborn, and she knows he's doing it on purpose -because he always does- but she doesn't care when it means she has a chance to beat Spencer at something.

"Fine," she grumbles. She sweeps the hair from her face and sits up straight, shuffling to the end of the bed and letting her legs dangle down; they brush against Spencer's own and he clears his throat amid the contact.

The slap of her fist against her palm indicates the beginning of the game. Y/N knows that she's unlikely to win, because Spencer is bound to have calculated some sure-fire plan to succeed in every round of Rock Paper Scissors.

This is why, when Spencer pulls paper and she pulls scissors, she screams in delight.

"No," Spencer says bluntly, then demands, "best out of three."

"Oh no," she chuckles, "it's never been that way before, it isn't now, gorgeous."

Spencer throws his head back in a groan, kneeling on the floor in defeat. He stays there because he figures he ought to become acquainted with it.

———

When nighttime rolls around, Y/N is pretty excited. She's already texted the BAU group chat a record seventeen times about the matter, yet somehow the team hasn't gotten sick of it thus far, and may even be more exhilarated than she is. It's the one good thing to come out of sharing a room with Spencer: that she gets to watch him wiggle in discomfort on his makeshift bed of blankets and pillows on the floor.

Except, when it comes down to it, it isn't that fun at all.

He's wriggling, yes, but it's doesn't exactly fulfil her with any satisfaction; if anything, it's just sad. He struggles to reach any form, never mind pinnacle, of relaxation, and Y/N actually feels pretty guilty at the subordination. So when the clock hits midnight and she's still hearing Spencer grunting when he hits a certain incessant bump in the carpet, she gives in and sits up.

Upon the sudden sound of bedsheets rustling, Spencer freezes because he thinks he's going to get shouted at, but it's the opposite that scares him even more.

"Do you want to get in bed?" Her voice sounds, the hush penetrating through the air.

Immediately Spencer rises; he wants nothing more than to take her up on her offer, but he is, unfortunately, chivalrous.

"No, no, it's okay," he whispers back, already delving back under his covers.

"Spencer. Just take the bed, I can't sleep with you tossing and turning," she says, hoping the complaint will cover up her caring behaviour.

"Be careful, Y/L/N, it almost sounds like you care."

"Shut up, do you want the bed or not?"

"I do but, unlike you, I'm actually a good person and wouldn't want to see you lying on the floor-"

"Uh, I'm offering you the bed, aren't I? That's gotta earn me some brownie points," she remarked, now having turned on a lamp. "Besides, if you're that bothered about it, we'll just share."

This makes Spencer stop: his torso is turned abnormally in his angle to see Y/N behind him, the blankets feebly draping across him show the Doctor Who shirt he's wearing, and his hair is a tousled mess that Y/N just knows will take him hours to fix in the morning. Well, that was tomorrow's problem, she contemplated, right now the issue lied in who, if either of them, was going to sleep on the floor.

"Uh, share? You.. uh, you really wanna do that?"

"As long as you don't snore, or kick; whats the harm?"

Spencer avoids dumping information about the harm of them sleeping together: how this kind of physical contact releases oxytocin, a chemical compound in the brain that exhibits feelings of empathy, trust, relaxation and even reduces anxiety. He saves her this because it's just past midnight and he doubts she wants to hear about the scientific risk of them growing to like each other.

"Oh, okay," he agrees instead. He clambers up from his pile of blankets and clutches a pillow to his chest while he stumbles over. Y/N shuffles to one side and pulls the duvet back, and he's more than happy to get under warm, comfy sheets.

"Let me just make something clear," Y/N says while Spencer adjusts into the pillows. He doesn't do this for long because one is snatched from under his head. When he moves to object, he sees it being planted next to his arm, creating a definite border between them.

"Your side, my side," Y/N says sternly, "that clear?"

"Crystal."

———

It's around three am when Y/N stirs awake. At first she can't grasp what's roused her, but then she hears a noise, and assumes there's got to be some construction going on outside because what she hears is alike to the humming of machinery. When she gains a reasonable amount of consciousness, she realises the sound is a bit too close to home.

Her hand reaches out across the bed, and when she accidentally whacks Spencer on the chest, she worries she's awoken him, until the noise starts again and it's here she discovers it's coming from him.

Oh shit, she thinks, please don't tell me my co-worker is having a sex dream while I'm lying right next to him.

He isn't, but Y/N isn't sure the reality is any better.

The moaning sound he first emitted has progressed into some sort of panicked grunt, accompanied by occasional whines. Soon, his body is flinching away from an invisible force.

Y/N knows it's probably best to leave it, that if she wakes him up he might be too confused and scared, he'll be disoriented, but when he starts screaming, she doesn't have anything else to resort to.

"Spence, Spencer! Wake up, hey," she shakes him, and he's awake in seconds. Sitting up straight, Y/N sees him hitting things that aren't there; it's only when she turns the light on that he eventually calms down.

"I'm sorry," he croaks immediately. Then his head is in his hands as he leans on his knees, and Y/N is overcome with a feeling completely foreign to her in regard to Spencer: empathy.

"Don't be, it-... it's okay," her voice takes a calm turn, and she even puts a hand on his back because anything that happens after three am is as good as forgotten anyway.

"You were right, I'm sorry," Spencer mutters. "This'll lose me ten points for sleeping conditions, huh?"

His attempt at cracking a joke does make Y/N smile, but even he can tell it's one of pity.

"Don't be silly. Do you want to, uh, talk about it?"

"I just wanna sleep," he sighs, and falls back into the pillows. Y/N creases her brows in sympathy, then lies down next to him; she stares at the ceiling for a while, and the steadying of Spencer's breathing makes her think he fell asleep a while ago, so she leans to turn off the lamp before his voice breaks the silence.

"Can you keep the light on?"

His sudden ask makes Y/N jump, but she steadies under the softness of Spencer's voice. When she turns to him his eyes are barely open, but he can see the benevolent smile she's giving him; something he rarely sees from Y/N.

"Of course," she says, then lies back down into the indent she's made in the bed.

"Thanks," he replies, and Y/N notices this is the least she's ever heard Spencer talk.

"You know," she starts, "it's not silly to be afraid of the dark; it's basic human instinct. I mean, it's evolution: humans have a... a tendency to be afraid of the dark, our visual sense vanishes and we can't detect anything around us. It's primal instinct, or... something, I guess."

At the end of her ramble, she's afraid she's sent Spencer to sleep, because he's gone uncharacteristically placid, but -yet again- he surprises her.

"Now who's losing points for conversation?"

Y/N's laugh after this is so hearty and genuine that Spencer can't help but smile, grin even. His chest rumbles with a chuckle, and Y/N feels the mattress shake under their collaboration of laughter, when it dies down they're both still beaming.

"Maybe I've been hanging around you too much," she declares. It's a jab, but her cheek rests against the pillow when she turns her head to him because her smile is so wide, and Spencer reciprocates; the act is unfamiliar to the pair, but warming nonetheless.

When it goes silent, Y/N doesn't expect to sleep at all. The Pavlov affect of the light being on tricks her brain into thinking she should be wide awake (something she learnt from Spencer), so she lies there patiently; hands intertwined resting on her chest. She twiddles her thumbs, almost as if she's waiting for something to happen.

"I'm sorry you have nightmares," she mutters.

Spencer's eyes flutter open, and she goes to make another apology, this time for waking him, but he clears his throat so she lets him take the lead.

"S'Not your fault, I just, I don't know. I get these dreams, these weird dreams - ever since I was a kid. I guess they just... developed into nightmares since I joined the BAU," he mumbles. "We see some pretty bad stuff."

Y/N hums, "we do, don't we?"

Her speech doesn't warrant a response, so Spencer just smiles again and they both silently call it a night. Reid is asleep in seconds, which Y/N finds admirable, while she stays still for a while. The way the orange light is bouncing off Spencer's physique makes him look like he's centre stage of an oil painting. The detail she's gaining of his pores and his eyelashes from being so close to him is both daunting and beautiful at the same time. His resting body reminds her of the pieces on display in an art exhibit Spencer dragged her along to one day last autumn. She wonders if he took anyone else to that exhibit, and hopes he didn't.

She soundlessly admires the rise of his chest: the melody of his breathing amid the chagrin of an occasional nose whistle. His hair, once a foreseeable inconvenience, is now an abundance of, what Y/N can only describe as, natural radiance; it's all curls and frizz and length that she's begged him to never lay a hand on. She can't help but run a hand through it. When she does, it's a lot softer than she expected and makes her think, wow I've really got to find out what conditioner he is using while she's untangling any knots she comes across. It only results in more frizz but he'll gel it back with product in the morning (much to Y/N's disappointment).

The noise he exudes when Y/N scratches his scalp makes her heart melt immediately. It is the sound of innocence wrapped up in a ball of revere, the way it comes from his chest and catches in the back of his throat in a small, naive whine. Then he subconsciously curls into her hold and is practically purring when she continues to scrape her fingernails gently across his head.

The ambivalence of it all is what makes Y/N stop. Spencer Reid isn't the kind of guy she ever anticipated to have a crush on. He didn't fit into the pattern of her list of exes, not even one feature of him came close to anything of her usual type. Where she'd normally be taken to movies and dinners, Spencer ventured with her to museums, public symposiums, art exhibits. Y/N can't resist fondly reminiscing on a library trip they took last week that resulted in them checking out each of their favourite books for one another. And while, on paper, this was romantic and harmonious, they were strictly platonic. Barely that; they took the piss out of each other at every opportunity, not even always as a joke. Y/N had collapsed in sorrow when she pulled his name out of the hat.

But the smile on Spencer's face... his serene expression and soft hair makes Y/N's knees weak for a totally different reason. And she figures this feeling trumps whatever feigned resentment she has been portraying over the years.

Fine, she thought, stubborn as always when it came to Spencer, I'll tell him when he wakes up. She began to bask in the peace that came before whatever storm could potentially riot tomorrow when she told Spencer how she felt. She guessed she had at least a few hours to relish in their friendship and the love they had built.

She guessed wrong.

Spencer's eyes were fluttering open before Y/N had even began conjuring up what she was going to say. Unfortunately, when she made a plan she stuck to it; she was beginning to see why her stubbornness could be such an unattractive quality.

Spencer squinted harshly with the light, and the first thing he managed to see clearly was the discreet panic in Y/N's eyes. He took a quick survey of the room to eliminate what visible factors that could reason her alarm; when he ruled out any unsub with a gun to her head, he relaxed.

Rubbing his eyes, he looked to the window, and it didn't seem to be daylight yet.

"Haven't you been to sleep?" He asked, more than prepared to educate her in the necessities of getting a good night's rest.

"Not yet. You've only been out a few minutes," she said softly, retracting her hand from his locks. Here, Spencer realised he didn't like the feeling of Y/N's absence.

"Oh," he hummed, "I was dreaming. I think Darth Vader was there..."

Y/N chuckled lightheartedly, "of course he was."

Spencer seemed willing to remain awake, but time was limited and Y/N wasn't sure when he'd be dozing off again. So, she made her move.

"Listen, I wasn't going to say anything until morning but, you're awake so I may as well tell you now..."

He's visibly intrigued; with a quirked eyebrow and digging the knuckle-joint of his finger in a rubbing motion in the corner of his eye to try and gain some sense of vivacity. Still, all he can respond with is a drone.

"And I don't want this to, I don't know, freak you out? Or to make anything awkward, so if it does, we can just... pretend this never happened, okay? I mean it."

This manages to obtain Y/N the attention she needs, because, without delay, Spencer has both eyes open and his eyebrows are knitted together in mostly concern. Now, with his eager expression, Y/N wishes he had stayed nonchalant.

"What's wrong?"

"I just... I guess. I mean, I like you? I think? I know, really. I just - you're not like any other guy, and I like that, that's a good thing! I mean, what other guy knows how to build a rocket and make a coin appear behind your ear?"

Spencer chuckles, and his eyes are wide and bright like he's been suddenly granted passage to a whole new world. Mouth agape with wonder, he's like a child being told he can finally play on the big-kid swings: buzzing with excitement and anticipation, just like said rockets he launches and gets in trouble with Hotch for.

"You mean like this?" He asks and leans forward to brandish a dime from behind Y/N's earlobe.

"Okay, like, who does that!" She screeches way too loudly for three am. When she clasps a hand over her mouth Spencer chortles and slowly removes her grasp. He's timid, so initially only presses a chaste kiss to her knuckles, then feels the ambience in the room shift; suddenly everything has devolved from blushing antics and stumbles of words to serenity in a matter of seconds.  

Spencer's pecks adhere to Y/N's hands, lingering on the skin of her knuckles and occasionally peppering to her palms. It isn't until a few kisses later that he brings himself to move closer, and even here his courage only brings him to her cheek.

When the corner of his lips press lustfully upon her face, Y/N doesn't hesitate in turning her head ever so slightly. His lips part, and he breaks away to glance at her and make sure this isn't all one big misunderstanding. But her gaze is matched to his mouth, and soon her lips. In a fumble to close the (already compact) space between them, the kiss they share is warm and breathy, it's passionate and lewd, especially with the arrangement in which Spencer places his hands: cupping one side of her face and the placing the other at her neck so he can rest his fingertips in the hold atop Y/N's spine.

Wherever his fingers touch leaves a trail of goosebumps which Y/N hopes never diminish; she wants every piece of evidence she can muster of Spencer's caresses, however this changes when Spencer's lips begin on the formidable task of her neck.

"Stop," she pants, and the hands that had inevitably reached his hair again are now pushing slightly on his shoulders. Her request makes Spencer drop his hands immediately.

"I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"No, you didn't. It was nice. I just, I don't want everyone to see," she gestured to the red patch that had already formed above her clavicle where Spencer had only been nibbling a moment prior.

"Right, yeah," he breathed. A giddy smile forced its way onto his face when he looked at the way Y/N's lips had reddened and become swollen, especially her bottom (now essentially permanent) pout originated from the persistence of Spencer's tendency to drag his teeth along her lip and enclose it in a bite.

"You know, I predicted this would happen. Scientifically, people are a lot more likely to be attracted to one another after sleeping together. Subconsciously, we feel more capable in our ability to trust that person because we've been so vulnerable and open in a compromising position. The oxytocin we get from sharing physical contact like that is the same we produce in an orgasm."

"Oh," Y/N squeaked, while Spencer lay there with a proud smile on his face, not really registering the effect he'd had on her by using the word 'orgasm'.

"Oxytocin is heavily released during kissing too, so... I guess we're pretty bonded."

Y/N chuckled, smiling at his blushed cheeks. "I guess we are."

"It's, uh, it's actually also called the 'cuddle hormone' because it's primarily recognised as being released during hugging.”

"And that's your way of asking me if I want to cuddle?"

Spencer's smile was unmissable: shifting nervously between tight-lipped and beaming wide, his eyes were the only part of his countenance that stilled; locked on Y/N.

"Yes, I, uh, I believe it is."

She tried to suppress her grin, but it was no use.

"Big spoon or little spoon?" She asked.

"Oh, little spoon... obviously."

fin.

[queenshelby]

THE SECRET - part three of four

Featuring: Cillian Murphy x Virgin!Reader

Words: 5,223

Warning: Smut, Age Gap

Tag List: @lilymurphy03 @deefigs

@chrisevanshoeeee @desperate-and-broken

@weepingstudentfishhorse  @fookingshelby  @livinginfantaxy

@atomicsoulcollecto  @datewithgianni @mariapaiva13

Good Morning

After five orgasms, you decided that you were finally satisfied and, following almost five hours of passionate sex with a pizza delivery in between, you allowed Cillian to get some rest at about 1am. You figured that, after all, he’s more than double your age so sleep was probably something he needed more than you.

Regardless of your young age, you thought that you would both be exhausted the following morning but, that night, you could barely sleep.

You were ravaged with energy and wild thoughts about the man lying next to you.

Never, even in your wildest dreams, would you have imagined your first time being anything like this. Passionate and full of desire.

Your friends had all told you horror stories about their first times so you were positively surprised. It was pure pleasure and you didn’t want Cillian to stop making love to you and send waves of energy through your body.

After that, whilst you were incredibly satisfied, you were also incredibly sore. It’s not that Cillian hadn’t warned you about that. But you kept insisting on him giving you more and more and now you were clearly paying for it.

Cillian, on the other hand, was fast asleep. His body was certainly relaxed and comfortable. Not even a bolt of thunder could have wakened him after your fun filled activities. He didn’t even have to time to worry about how you would explain your absence that night to Emma when she found out.

You no longer worried about it. Emma still thought that you were seeing Finn despite you telling her that you weren’t. She didn’t believe you.

At about 6am you could not lie in bed anymore and decided to walk downstairs to get some coffee for you and Cillian.

You quickly wrapped your dress around you and borrowed one of Cillian’s jumpers to walk downstairs. The jumper was black and simple with a hood. It was an Irish clothing brand of some sort and you loved the smell of his aftershave on it.

The hotel restaurant just opened but, to your surprise, you weren’t the only one in need for coffee.

There was Anthony, the show’s director, getting ready for work while enjoying his cappuccino.

‘Nice outfit Y/N’ he laughed as you walked into the restaurant. You clearly looked out of place wearing a dress, sandals and oversized hoodie.

‘Oh thanks. I thought I would change things up a bit. I’ve heard it’s trendy now’ you giggled as you stood there, sore and noticeably uncomfortable.

You ordered two coffees, one double shot espresso and a latte.

‘Double Shot Espresso? Is that for you?’ he laughed. It was an unusual order and he only knew one other person on set who was ordering coffee as strong as this and that person was Cillian.

‘Uhm no’ you said shyly, hoping for no further questions from Anthony.

‘Jesus, Emma must have had a big night with her sister in town then’ he said before he excused himself to make his way to set.

You couldn’t help but giggle at Anthony’s comment and, shortly after you got your coffees, made your way back up to Cillian’s apartment.

You put his jumper back onto the chair and woke him up by giving him a kiss on the cheek.

‘Good Morning Sleepyhead’ you said as you put his coffee onto the bedside table.

‘Hey, good morning’ he said, rubbing his eyes. He instantly smelled the coffee and, after giving you a kiss, reached for the cup on the bedside table.

‘Thank you’ he said gently before asking you how you were feeling.

‘A bit sore’ you said with a smile on your face.

‘I am sorry’ he said like a true gentlemen before pulling you closer for another kiss.

After you had your coffee and spent some time making out with Cillian you made your way back to your apartment to have a shower and get changed.

Emma had already left for set and you were glad for it. You didn’t really want to explain yourself.

One part of you hated having to keep your relationship with Cillian a secret while the other part of you believed that, for the moment, it was defiantly the right thing to do.

On Set Dilemmas

Later that morning, on set, Emma met with Anthony before her scene with you.

Before you arrived, they had the opportunity to make some small talk and Anthony couldn’t help it but mention the coffee order you placed at the hotel restaurant at 6am.

‘That espresso obviously got you going Em’ Anthony laughed as Emma came walking towards him full of energy, building up some exhaustion for her next scene.

‘Espresso? I don’t even drink coffee’ she laughed.

‘You don’t? Now that is interesting. I walked into Y/N this morning buying you an espresso’ he said.

‘Y/N?’ Emma asked, before starting to laugh.

‘What’s so funny?’ Anthony asked.

‘Y/N has not been home. The coffee wasn’t for me’ Emma laughed.

‘Oh right, gotcha. Who’s the lucky guy?’ Anthony asked.

‘I think it’s Finn, but I cannot be certain’ Emma said with a giggle.

‘Finn? Yeah, I can see that’ Anthony smiled before he saw you approach him and Emma.

Anthony quickly changed the topic and began talking about the scene between you and Emma.

It took two takes to get it right and Anthony was quite happy with both of your progression.

The next week went uneventful and Cillian kept his distance from you on set. You didn’t have many scenes together during this time.

Nonetheless, you managed to sleep over at his apartment twice during this time raising Emma’s suspicions even further.

Cillian knew that some people on set were thinking that you were involved with Finn and it didn’t bother him until Finn finally found the courage to actually ask you out.

Thus, just as you were having lunch with Cillian, Finn and Anthony, Finn asked you an uncomfortable question.

‘Y/N, I was wondering if, perhaps, you would like to see a play with me on Saturday. Anthony and his wife are coming too’ Finn said, causing Cillian’s eyebrows to raise.

You took a deep breath, not knowing how to respond. Was he asking for a date or was he just being friendly?

‘Uhm, thank you for the offer, but I can’t. I am sorry. I will be in London for the weekend’ you said shyly while Cillian quietly watched the situation unfold.

‘Alright. Well, let me know if your plans change, ok?’ Finn said, causing you to nod before excusing yourself.

‘I better visit the bathroom before we start the next scene’ you said with a flushed face as you walked off. You were rather uncomfortable by Finn’s question, especially in front of Cillian.

When you were gone, Finn couldn’t help it but discuss the matter further with Anthony and Cillian, seeking some advice from them.

‘I had hoped for a different answer, but hey’ Finn said with disappointment, causing Cillian to look at him with some surprise.

‘Sorry man’ Anthony said. Until that moment, when Finn asked you whether you wanted to go out with him, he was certain that he was the one you were involved with based on Emma’s comments. He felt terrible for suggesting that he bring you along to the play.

‘That’s alright. I probably should have asked her to do something more private. Like dinner or something. Or go and watch a movie’ Finn said, causing Cillian to cross his elbows and raise his eyebrows again. He didn’t like the fact that Finn was interested in you and observed the conservation with silence.

‘Well, I actually thought the rumours that you two were involved with each other were true. That is why I suggested you bring her along to the play’ Anthony said with some embarrassment.

‘I wish they were. But unfortunately, they are not’ Finn laughed before he noticed Cillian’s silence. ‘You are a good matchmaker Cilly. Can you help me out here? Set me up on a date with Y/N or something?’ Finn asked.

‘No man, sorry. I don’t think she is interested to be honest’ Cillian said before also excusing himself. The conversation had clearly become too awkward for him.

After this strange encounter, Cillian returned to his trailer to prepare for the next scene which was to start after the lunch break in about half an hour.

Making a Claim

Not long after he sat down to re-read his script, he heard a knock on the door.

‘Cilly, it’s Y/N’ you said before letting yourself inside.

‘Are you alright?’ you asked as you observed an angry look on Cillian’s face.

‘Yeah, fine’ Cillian sighed, causing you to walk over towards him and press your lips onto his.

‘Yeah, fine?’ you giggled after you broke the kiss. ‘It seems to me that someone is jealous’ you smirked.

‘I am not jealous Y/N, I just don’t like anyone hitting on my girlfriend’ Cillian said.

‘Your girlfriend huh? Well, no one knows that I am your girlfriend’ you said with a giggle. In fact, even you didn’t know this. Until recently, Cillian kept reminding you that he wanted to take things slow especially since you are half his age and he only recently broke up with his ex. That’s a whole new tune coming from him, calling you his girlfriend.

‘I suppose’ Cillian said somewhat annoyed.

‘Well, you know, I also don’t like women hitting on you, yet it happens. Quite often in fact’ you giggled.

‘Oh common, no one hits on me on set’ Cillian laughed.

‘Barb hits on you every day’ you responded.

‘Barb? Seriously?’ Cillian asked.

‘Oh yes. Haven’t you noticed? She likes you a lot. Everyone knows that’ you smirked.

‘She is quite attractive I suppose’ Cillian said sheepishly, causing you to give him a nudge before pressing your lips onto his for a gentle kiss.

Cillian pulled you closer to him, and the kiss became demanding and insistent.

You buried your hands in his hair to pull him closer until, eventually, you had to come up for air.

You had mussed his hair quite badly, but you were certain that yours looked no better.

You stared at each other for a moment, unable to do much more than breathe.

‘Do I seem pissed off?’ Cillian asked lightly, once he had the air to accomplish words.

‘A little bit’ you grinned. ‘I think you’ve been a bit blunt around Finn’ you added.

‘Yes, because he’s hitting on you’ Cillian chuckled.

‘And that makes you territorial, does it?’ you smirked cheekily.

‘Yeah’ Cillian said while cupping your face.

‘Oh yeah? Well, then perhaps you should mark your territory’ you smirked before running your hands over Cillian’s crotch.

‘What if someone comes in?’ Cillian asked with a heavy breath.

‘The trailer locks. Besides…’ you levelled a serious expression at him…’you know what the next scene on my schedule entails, right?’ you asked, reminding Cillian that your character Yvette will be trying to seduce Finn’s character Michael Gray in the next scene after he had a fight with his with Gina. Whilst the seduction would be futile, the scene involved a kiss and some touching.

‘I do’ Cillian said with a deep voice before kissing your neck.

‘He will probably enjoy it’ he then said with some annoyance before he locked the trailer door and pressed his lips back onto yours.

‘Maybe. But then, who can compete with Tommy Shelby eh?’ you smirked as you broke the kiss for a split second before crashing your lips back onto his.

You marvelled at his dexterity and slipped your tongue into his mouth. Cillian groaned deep in his throat in response, a vocalization that you found thoroughly erotic.

‘I want you to fuck me right here’ you said in a haste as your lips drifted apart and you reached for the bulge straining against his black suit pants.

‘I don’t have a condom Y/N. Despite there isn’t much time…’ he said, trying to slow you down and, before he could finish his sentence, you interrupted.  

‘I am on the pill. Let’s make this quick’ you said eagerly before kissing him again.

This was all he needed to hear and, with one fluid motion, he pulled you away from the wall and lifted you easily to sit on the counter by the bench.

There was no time for you to get undressed. You had no more than fifteen minutes.

You worked the fly on Cillian’s pants open with little trouble and worked your prize free of his briefs. He was twitching with excitement, and you smiled to see the effect you had upon him.

At the same time, Cillian reached beneath your skirt and slipped your already soaked panties down around your ankles, dropping them to the floor besides you.

His lips met yours again as he rand his fingers through your wet slit a few times before he finally rested his cock against your entrance.

Your combined heat was feverish and you grabbed his cock, rubbing the head up and down your slit, coating him in warmth and wetness.

Cillian groaned and strained towards you, causing you to lean forward to kiss him, as you speared yourself on his hardness.

You know that, unlike other encounters you had, this would not be romantic nor would it be gentle. But that’s not what you wanted anyway. You wanted him to fuck you hard and fast. You wanted him to claim you.

You moaned into his mouth and clutched at his shoulders as he entered you.

‘Shit!’ you exclaimed, breaking this kiss. ‘Fuck!’ you exclaimed again as he thrust up into you with unexpected force.

His hands dug into your ass as he pulled you as close to him as possible.

You kept grounding yourself into him, revelling in the feeling of him inside of you. This was the first time you could feel him like this, the warms of his flesh rubbing against your tight but wet walls.

It was sensational and your hands clutched convulsively at his head.

Cillian nuzzled at your chest in between the opening of your blouse as he pumped his hips to meet yours.

You were so turned on by this point that you felt yourself already teetering on the edge of an orgasm. Usually, you would hold back from coming so quickly, but you were on a tight schedule and allowed yourself to let go.

You nipped gently at Cillian’s earlobe, and between moans, you spoke softly in his ear.

‘I am about to come’ you moaned, causing Cillian to groan. He knew what this meant. Your already tight walls would soon contract around him, sending him over the edge as well.

‘Do you want me to pull out after you do?’ Cillian asked as he continued to thrust into you.

You shook your head. ‘No, I want to feel you come inside of me’ you moaned.

The thought of him coming inside of you turned you both on immensely. It was something you both secretly fantasied about for over a week now.

With his thrusts becoming faster and more forceful, you could feel your orgasm begin to ripple through you, burning up from your core through your body, thrumming through your brain.

With his bare cock inside of you, all of you began to shake.

‘Fuck! Cillian! Yes! Fuck!’ you cried out.

You were certain that you were being too loud, but it was difficult for you to stifle yourself.

‘Shh Y/N’ Cillian chuckled just before he felt your walls clench around his cock, emphasizing his hardness.

He let out a terrific groan, and managed to choke out, ‘Fuck, Y/N’, before you felt the heat of him spurting into you.

He was not much quieter than you were and twitched inside of you, a sensation that extended your own orgasm.

You grasped at one another's bodies, overcome by the intensity. You bit your lip to keep yourself from screaming The strength of your orgasm was overwhelming, and when the shuddering pleasure at last subsided, you panted against Cillian’s shoulder.

Even through the clothes, you could feel his heart racing against you.

As you both came down from your high, you softly kissed each other while Cillian pulled out of you carefully.

You could feel his warm cum leaking out of you but you didn’t bother cleaning yourself up. Instead, you pulled up your panties stopping it from running out of you and down your thighs.

The thought of this drove Cillian absolutely crazy and he was ready for round two. Unfortunately for you, there was no time and, just as he zipped up his pants, you could hear a knock on the door.

‘Ready in five minutes Y/N’ Anthony yelled, causing your face to instantly turn red. How did he know that you were in Cillian’s trailer? Did he hear you?

You quickly straightened up your hair and clothes before walking outside with flushed cheeks.

‘Just rehearsing’ you said with heightened embarrassment as you looked down at the floor and waved your script around as you walked past Anthony.

‘Right, then let’s go’ he said with a laugh.

Accidents Happen

The scene with Finn was difficult for you to film especially now that you knew that he was interested in you.

It became even more difficult when Cillian appeared on set to get ready for his next scene.

Him watching you kiss Finn made you uncomfortable.

The scene was taking place on a boat parked at the canal and there was a lot happening around you. It was cold and raining and there you were, kissing Finn in front of your boyfriend.

After five takes due to the rain, Anthony was finally happy with the material and it was time for you to step off the boat.

It was slippery and, even with the best efforts from the team on set, you ended up falling on the ramp in your red vintage heals.

‘Shit Y/N, are you alright?’ Finn asked as you landed on the floor, taking a blow to your wrist.

Cillian instantly came running over to you and, together with Finn, helped you up from the muddy floor.

‘Now that was embarrassing’ you said, holding back some tears.

‘I think we will stop filming now and I will organise a nurse to see you Y/N’ Anthony said as the rain picked up and it started to thunder.

The outdoor scenes were cancelled for the remainder of the day and Cillian took off his big jacket, wrapping it around you as Finn and him walked with you towards the shelter.

‘Are you alright?’ Cillian asked, his big blue eyes looking into yours while he held your hand.

Anthony and Finn couldn’t help but look at you both, somewhat stunned. But Cillian didn’t care about what it looked like to them. He was worried about you and cared for you deeply.

‘I am fine’ you smiled and Cillian stayed with you until the nurse came and assed your wrist.

It was clearly sprained and you were lucky that it wasn’t broken.

‘I think she will survive mate’ Anthony said to Cillian with a chuckle as sat there and waited for you to be fitted with a wrist support splint.

‘I am just hanging around to see if she needs some help, that’s all’ Cillian responded.

‘Sure mate’ Anthony chuckled, becoming somewhat suspicious about Cillian’s behaviour towards you.

‘I think we will all need a shower and a beer. Meet you guys at the pub at 5?’ he asked, causing both you and Cillian to nod.

After the nurse attended to you and discharged you, you made your way back to your apartment.

Emma was about to leave when you arrived and you texted Cillian, asking him to come over before you would head to the pub together.

Bath Fun

Just as he arrived, your bath was ready. He was ten minutes early, as usual.

‘I will just need to have a quick wash’ you said as you were still covered in mud.

‘That’s alright, I will watch some TV while I wait’ Cillian said as you disappeared into the bathroom.

Unfortunately for you, it wasn’t long until you had to ask Cillian for help.

‘Cillian, can you give me hand please?’ you asked loudly from the bathroom as you tried to open the wrist support splint yourself without success.

‘Why don’t you leave it on and I will help you?’ he asked after he came inside the bathroom.

‘Alright, but no fooling around. We are already late’ you said.

‘Of course not’ Cillian smirked as just as he got undressed.

‘Uhm what are you doing?’ you asked surprised, unsure why he needed to get undressed in order to help you wash your hair and back.

‘Well, I am getting into the bath with you. Just to make it easier for the both of us of course’ Cillian said.

‘Of course’ you giggled as he helped you in the bathtub before getting in behind you.

Cillian went straight to business and began washing your back with the soft sponge.

That feels great’ you said, closing your eyes.

Cillian then grabbed the handheld shower head and rinsed your hair with the hot water. Next, he grabbed the body wash and soaped up your back.

Once your back was done, he reached around and washed your front where his soapy hands found your breasts and rubbed them thoroughly, his fingers playing with your nipples.

As he did, you noticed Cillian’s erection getting bigger by the second, his hard cock poking against your lower back.

‘This counts as fooling around’ you said as Cillian continued to massage your breasts.

I'm just trying to be thorough’ Cillian replied.

You wanted to give him a harder time, but you felt that all too familiar stirring between her legs.

Cillian’s hands finally left your breasts and made their way down your stomach, still under the guise of helping you to get clean. When your front was completely covered in the body wash, his hands travelled further south. You felt Cillian's slick fingers getting dangerously close to your entrance, and you found yourself opening your legs wide to allow him easier access. He didn't hesitate and slipped two fingers into you right away.

‘I knew you wouldn't be able to control yourself’ you mumbled as his fingers pumped into you.

‘Can you blame me?’ Cillian asked. ‘After all, I have got the most beautiful woman right here with me’ he added as he thrusted his fingers in and out of you, causing you to moan.

While his fingers began to thrust outwards, hitting your g-spot over and over again, his thumb began to massage your clit.

‘Oh god’ you moaned as you clenched onto the side of the bathtub but, just as you were nearing your high, Cillian retracted his hand.

‘What are you doing?’ you whined, turning to pout at him.

‘I want to try something else’ he responded.

You weren’t sure what he meant, but you saw him going for the handheld shower head again. In an instant, a strong stream of hot water was pounding against your clit. Your back arched, the sensation overwhelming.

‘Holy fuck’ you moaned, slumping back against Cillian as his fingers returned to inside of you while the harsh water streamed against your clit. His skin felt deliciously warm behind you and he aimed the stream even closer to your most sensitive spot.

You leaned your head back against his chest, and Cillian's left arm snaked around your waist while his right controlled the shower head.

‘I knew you'd like that’ he whispered into your ear as you continued to contort against him. And a few seconds later, you were wracked with a powerful orgasm.

As you tried to recover, Cillian casually rinsed the rest of your body as if he hadn't just gotten you off. You could feel he was rock hard now.

He put the shower head back into its place and guided you up so that you were sitting on the tiled edge of the bathtub, your back leaning against the cold tiles on the wall behind you.

Cillian got down on his knees in front of your and grabbed your hips.

‘Oh god Cillian, I swear, you're gonna kill me’ you mumbled as Cillian pushed his head between your thighs. His mouth went to work, french kissing your lower lips.

Cillian's tongue alternated between stimulating your clit and plunging inside you.

You put your uninjured hand in his hair and began to moan loudly as he stimulated you with his tongue.

‘You are so fucking beautiful, you know that?’ Cillian asked as his tongue ran up and down your slit, dipping into you now and then before circling over your clit.

‘Cillian, I want you inside of me, now. Please’ you moaned.

‘Impatient as usual, aren’t we?’ he smirked before plunging his tongue inside of you one more time before pulling away and helping you out of the bathtub.

After he helped you dry off, he suggested that you go to the bedroom but you had other ideas.

‘Right here’ you smirked causing the smile on Cillian’s face to fade and be replaced with a serious look in his eyes.

‘As you wish’ he said with determination just before he made you bent forward over the sink.

You looked at him through the mirror in front of you. His intensity made your shiver in anticipation and, before you even had the chance to take in a deep breath, Cillian lined himself up at your opening and gently pushed inside.

After all the foreplay, it went in so easily, as if Cillian inside you was the most natural thing in the world. His thrusts were slow and gentle, and he angled his body to ensure his weight wasn't pressing against your injured wrist.

He was clearly taking it easy with you and it felt as if everything was moving in slow motion, so you could savour every millisecond.

Cillian's thrusts started d to get a little more powerful, but still slow and controlled. He brought his face close to the back of your neck while looking at you through the mirror in front of you.

He loved seeing facial expressions and hear your moans when he was inside of you.

‘Oh god’ you moaned as your hips were rising to meet his thrusts and his lips began to kiss your neck gently until, all of a sudden, you heard Emma’s voice.

‘Y/N, are you in the bathroom?’ she asked.

‘Yes, having a bath’ you said with a hasty voice while Cillian halted his thrusts.

‘Can I come in? I need my glasses. They are on the window seal’ she said.

‘No’ you shouted. Cillian was still inside of you and his hands were still placed over your waist.

‘Alright, uhm, can you bring them to the pub when you get there, please. I just came back to get them’ she said with a laugh before leaving the apartment.

‘That was close’ Cillian chuckled as soon as he heard the apartment door close.

‘You think’ you chuckled just as you pushed back on him, indicating that you wanted him to keep going.

Cillian finally had enough of the slow pace and roughly grabbed your hips tighter. His fingers dug into your flesh as he began to pound into you.

‘Yes, that’s it’ you moaned as you closed your eyes and let your head drop forward.

‘Oh god Cillian, yes keep going’ you moaned as Cillian was hitting all the right places. Cillian's hands started traveling around your body, one grabbed a hold of your ass and the other snaked up to play with your nipples.

Cillian soon started grunting, and you knew that he was close.

‘I am so close, don’t stop’ you moaned as you ground your hips hard against him and, as Cillian gave a few final thrusts, and when you felt him cum inside you, you came too.

‘Yes yes yes’ you gasped, trying to hold on to the sink for support as your orgasm washed over you and Cillian thrusted into you hard three more times before slowing down his movements.

Once he caught his breath, Cillian was able to pull out and stand up straight and you turned around to kiss him.

‘I suppose, we will be late’ you smirked as you looked at your watch, it was 5.15pm.

‘Hmm, do we even have to go?’ Cillian asked before kissing you again.

‘Yes Cillian, we do’ you said and quickly brushed your hair and got dressed.

It took you less than ten minutes after your sexual encounter to get ready and jump into a taxi.

More than Rumours

When you arrived at the pub, everyone was already there. Finn, Emma, Anthony and some of the other crew and cast members.

‘You guys are half an hour late’ Anthony said as you and Cillian approached the table.

‘Sorry. It took me a bit longer to get ready with this thing on’ you said shyly as you sat down next to Emma and handed her the pair of glasses she had been asking for earlier.

Emma looked over at you and Cillian and noticed that you both had wet hair.

But she wasn’t the only one who noticed. Anthony also observed that you both looked freshly showered with nice and clean hair.

What he also noticed was a familiar looking jumper that Cillian was wearing. In fact, it was the same jumper he saw on you just a week ago.

‘Nice Jumper Cillian’ Anthony said, while looking at you with a wide grin. The embarrassment shot through your face in an instant.

‘Thanks’ Cillian said, somewhat surprised by his comment. Little did he know that you had misappropriated the jumper a week ago when you got a coffee from the hotel restaurant, which is when you ran into Anthony.

The evening continued by you and Cillian ordering drinks and some food while Anthony found some time to speak to Emma in private.

‘I wish I wouldn’t have listened to you the last time we spoke Em’ Anthony laughed.

‘Why is that?’ Emma asked.

‘Well, Y/N is clearly not involved with Finn’ he chuckled.

‘What makes you say that?’ Emma asked.

‘Well, I suggested to Finn that he asks Y/N to join us for the theatre next week and she declined. I figured, if the rumours were true, she would say yes. Despite, Finn then asked Cillian to help him set him up with Y/N’ Anthony said.

‘That’s interesting. What did Cillian say?’ Emma asked curiously.

‘He said no and left’ Anthony laughed.

‘So, who do you think she is seeing?’ Emma asked.

‘I think you know as well as I do Em’ Anthony said with a laugh before taking his beer from the counter.

‘Yes… at least I have my suspicions’ Emma said with a giggle as she looked over to you and Cillian.

 Note: There will be a fourth and final part. Short and fluffy with Smut!

[boytouya]

Can I request a todoroki x male! reader, and reader has a lot of fangirls and todoroki decides to kiss them on live television? Thanks! I love your writing! 💖💖💖

Thank you

thank you angel!! this is my third attempt writing it because tumblr has decided to delete everything i wrote !!twice!! but it’s done now, and much better than the first two times!

Work days were long and dragging you by the collar. It was hard to keep up with talk shows, obsessive fans, and promotions. You barely even had days off. But on the rare occasion that you did, you and your boyfriend, Shouto, would spend the day hidden from paparazzi and under blanket forts. He preferred staying at home with you, and maybe it was selfish of him, but he couldn’t stand the thought of other people having your attention when you were finally alone. Unfortunately, the twenty four hour hourglass always seemed to run out too fast.

Clearly, that seemed to have an effect on Shouto. There were always dark circles weighing down his eyes (that his agent told him conceal), and you were the only one who knew. He only seemed vulnerable with you and only you, as you were with him too. So when you fix his tie and give him a smile, his tired eyes lighten up and he smiles back. It’s small and reserved, your favorite kind. Usually, Todoroki’s lips are pressed in a tight line and he stays polite. He only ever speaks when spoken to (unless you’re the one he’s talking to), sometimes making a witty remark in a monotone voice that throws off an interviewer. Shouto knows it makes you laugh though, so he continues to do it whenever he can. Some say he speaks “a perfect amount” and you couldn’t agree more. Then again, you think everything about him is perfect.

The two of you were fortunate enough to get casted in a new project together, and it’s success was skyrocketing after your name appeared next to Shouto’s in headlines. The two of you had a large following, and although Shouto was the model, you were very popular among women. The collection of supporters led to the project being nominated for two awards, one of which you later win.

Walking into the extravagant building had been a hassle, there were no security guards helping the two of you pass through fans, and the only thing separating you from them was a gold railing. They took advantage of that gateway, swarming around you and Shouto to make contact with you in any way possible. On top of the uncomfortable grabbing and squeezing, photographers flashed photos straight into your eyes. Nevertheless, Shouto stays pressed against you, his lips folded down into a small frown. He knows better, to keep his composure and never crack, to hold his emotions in like a dam, but it’s uncomfortable for the both of you. He pulls you into his side and continues walking, even as broadcasters shove microphones into your face. A woman, wearing a dress that looks like it costs more than both of your networths combined presses the mic straight to your face.

“Oh, Mr. Todoroki! You and your friend, you’re here because you’ve been nominated for multiple awards. I notice you’ve become very popular to the ladies, and I’ll admit, you are much more handsome in person. I’m sure everyone is dying to know, any girlfriends, gentlemen?” She asks, although she’s staring into your eyes like the question was meant just for you, despite addressing Todoroki.

Shouto hates the question. He hates the way you squeeze his arm, whether it’s to remind him to stay calm or to tell him that you’re uncomfortable. He knows he can’t grab the mic and proclaim his love for you, that you’re very much in a relationship with him and in love, but he seethes anyway. It’s bad for ratings, if all the people who crush on you see that you’re taken they’ll move onto the next cute boy, but it’s taken so much away from you. You cant go out on actual dates, you cant kiss or hold hands in public. Any form of PDA was a no. He hates it.

When he lets that sink in, the dam breaks.

Ignoring the question, Shouto picks up his pace and walks into the seated room, finding your reserved seats. He doesn’t speak much for the rest of the night, but he does give you a small smile, which you can tell is genuine. To be honest, watching people accept awards and say the same thank you speech was tedious, but when you’re the one doing it it’s much more exciting.

When you register hearing your name after the winner of the category was called, Shouto is looking down at you with his hand out. Even in moments of high tensity he remains passive. You’d envy his ability if you didn’t know it was a trained response. There’s clapping and cheers, muffled by the sound of your heart against your chest as Shouto leads you to the podium on stage.

You’re first to give thanks and credits. It’s much harder to say than it looks, and although everyone says the same thing, it still feels exhilarating. Maybe because you’re the one saying it, but it feels unique. You move to give Shouto a turn, when you realize he never let go of your hand. At first, his speech mimics yours, but he adds:

“The last person I’d like to thank is very important to me... He’s always been with me. Some people say I don’t laugh but he makes me laugh. He’s much more than a pretty face and... He deserves more than what he gets,” He turns to face you, and there are hushed whispers coming from the audience. His tongue swipes his bottom lip. You catch yourself staring. “There’s only one way I can show my gratitude correctly, because I find showing is much easier than speaking.” He adds simply, but his thin eyebrows raise upwards, as if he surprised himself upon saying that. In the corner of your eye you catch the two of you being displayed for those watching the ceremony on live TV, and the room feels larger than it already is.

His hands, once on the podium, move to hold the base of your neck, and he presses his forehead against yours. Without a second thought, his lips connect with yours. It throws you off for a split second but his warm hands ground you and keep you steady. His thumb caresses the space above your jawline, and he pulls away, before whispering:

“Thank you.”

[q-iilin]

conversation.

@datnovice so graciously reminded me that i wrote this a while ago when i first finished sequence 8 of the game. i don’t want to put this up on ao3 because i’m not sure if it deserves to be there.

anywho, please enjoy this little fic of pre-relationship ashefrye and dealing with the trauma brought by one mad theatre man.

---

The atmosphere around them was off balance even before Jacob returned to the hideout. He smells of ash mixed with an indiscernible number of perfumes only worn by the ladies and some gentlemen who were wealthy enough with coin and status to be invited to galas of grandeur scale. They had heard of what happened, about the Alhambra. If the billowing column of smoke and soot were not enough to tell, the locals chattering among the streets would be difficult to miss.

Their quarrel had not been smoothed over yet. The twins, at each other's throats more than usual, were sharp and defensive with their words. When Evie asked her brother what had happened, Jacob's retorts lacked their usual color; they felt bitter, angry, and confused. Though for what reason, no one knew better than Jacob himself. When Evie made another attempt to press him, the results remained the same. Instead, Evie, Henry, and Darren watch him take the red marker to the assassination board and, with purpose, draw a large x over the photo of Maxwell Roth. The blood-stained handkerchief then pinned right next to it with a letter opener grabbed in haste from the desk. 

Darren looks to Evie, a wrinkle in his brow as if to ask her what could have caused her spirited brother to suddenly be so unlike himself to such a degree, to an uneasy ripple that grew wilder and vaster. They glance up from the silent exchange when they hear Jacob speak.

"I'm going out," he says, and even if anyone had the intention of stopping him, he was off the train and into the streets before the chance presented itself.

Left with more questions than answers, they would still continue their discussions of the following moves regarding the liberation of London. For whatever emotional turmoil plagued Jacob, it was, unfortunately, lower in the priority list. Evie insisted Jacob would figure himself out, that this wasn't the first time he had left his responsibilities in a huff. Darren was hesitant to fully take her word. From where he stood, it didn't seem like this was something that could be drowned in bitters.

---

Darren hears from Jacob's Rooks over the next few days. Some reports come because Evie asks of them, others off-handedly voice concerns that their boss is a little worse for wear. And some speak loud enough that he hears of Jacob's whereabouts in passing. All of which amount to the fact that Jacob has been bar hopping since the evening he left the train. 

Work continuously gets done regardless. Jacob's duties were not offloaded onto his twin, surprisingly. Instead, he seemed to take Blighter territory control in stride. Though they don't get notice from him directly at the hideout, the Rooks that come back to update Evie and Henry tell them of their drunken boss who has been clearing remaining districts of Templar agents. Darren wonders what really happened within the Alhambra blaze.

"The beer here is pretty horrible. Tastes like nothing," Jacob says before knocking back the rest of the stein.

Darren finds Jacob later at a pub in Southwark, courtesy of a tip from a worried Rook. He looks at the bartop, four other steins are huddled up to Jacob's right, one of which laid on its side. Jacob's hat remained worn. Uncharacteristic, he's learned. There was the same unsteady air about him, mottled with something else that Darren could not read.

Jacob calls for the bartender, a hand barely raised from the countertop. The man serves the sixth drink without a word. Jacob slides him a coin. In one breath, he drinks half of it, like he wants to further numb whatever it was eating at him. How much does one man need to drink before he loses all feeling in his limbs? Darren watches in silence. Should he step in? Or let Jacob continue to deal with his problems the most comfortable way he knows how?

“Did one of my boys send you?” 

He spins around in the stool, mouth twisted in a grin, but one that lacked the playful nature anyone was used to. Jacob puts the cup to his lips and drinks again, eyes over the rim, fixed on Darren, as if he had expected someone to show up and drag him out of the pub by the ankles. 

Darren listens to him lie through his teeth. He recalls the curiosity and excitement that Jacob exuded upon receiving a mysterious letter. For the better part of a few weeks, he would watch Jacob eagerly attend to whatever invitation it was. On nights that he returned, his spirits were always high. Though when they learned he had been spending nights with Maxwell Roth, doing god knows what, Evie warned her brother, reminding him of what happened with Attaway. And despite his reassurances that Roth’s intentions were to uproot Starrick’s hold on London’s resources, Evie was no less suspicious to Templar methods.

“I’m fine, Darren,” he says. “Still taking care of business, as you've all clearly been told.” His words are slurring.

Jacob spoke of Roth highly, with hints of misplaced infatuation that made Darren’s stomach twist in discomfort. It was difficult, to say the least, to accept this without considering what Roth had done to manipulate the narrative in order to take advantage of Jacob’s naivety. Was it the thrill of Roth’s methods that excited him? To be able to work with someone as chaotic as himself? Or was it because Jacob had been given the freedom to make choices for himself with the help of someone who didn't berate him at every turn? Darren wasn’t sure if he would get the answers he wanted. Or if he wanted to hear them.

Even still, Darren listens to Jacob, lies and all. Lies about what he’s really feeling, that he’s not covering up what happened. And all about how he had been baited and switched so easily, right up until the last moment.

“The children in that home, I nearly took it too far. And it was what he wanted from the beginning!” he says. “All those people in the fucking Alhambra..."

It’s as though he hears the explosions in his head on loop. And yet, he still laughs. The strain in it is noticeable. Jacob laughs into his beer, nearly chokes on it. Continues to laugh. At himself? At his own foolishness that cascaded from one thing to the next to land him in this state? Perhaps all of the above.

Darren tells Jacob to go home. He pays the barkeep twice that of a full stein to cut Jacob off and leaves. Unsurprisingly, Jacob still doesn’t return that night.

---

Darren finds Jacob's hungover self on the way back to his flat in London City proper the following afternoon. His face holds an expression of being woken up too early, and he smells of a ghastly combination of the Thames water and poor quality bitters. Darren has to drag him off the sidewalk and into an alcove that is nestled between buildings.

“You didn’t listen to me, so now look at what’s happened,” he says, pushing Jacob down to sit.

“Didn’t want to go,” Jacob grunts as Darren handles him. He twists his arm away. Doesn't seem to want to be touched. “I managed alright after you left. Slept like a baby.”

Darren’s expression is flat, unimpressed and clearly believes none of what the man is saying. He clamps a hand around Jacob’s chin at the protest, fingers on both his cheeks. He inspects left to right, notices cuts and bruises where they weren’t the night before. “'Didn’t want to go' so you decided to start a fight?” It's difficult to not scold.

Jacob tenses almost defensively, then deflates a little, like a child that had been caught but didn’t want to admit to it. “I didn’t start a fight. Just a tousle with some arses ‘cause they bumped me.”

“They bumped you or did you bump them?”

“Same thing.”

“Really isn’t.”

Darren doesn’t do more than run his thumb along a scabbed cut. It’s still red, hot to the touch, but a trophy not unlike any of the ones Jacob has gotten before. He squats down to eye level. Jacob’s gaze is fixated elsewhere.

“How long do you intend to do this?” It’s like cornering an animal. Darren can see the tightness in his shoulders. “If a slip-up doesn’t kill you, then your liver certainly will.”

Jacob laughs. “You should spend less time worrying about what I’m doing when they’re my own choices.”

“I’m not worrying--”

“Is it Evie then? Did my dear sister tell you to keep an eye on me?” He swats Darren’s hand aside. “Pass this message along to her for me, will you?” And then leans forward. “‘Mind your business.’”

Darren doesn’t flinch. Nor does he recoil from the impetulence that Jacob is showing. They linger in that silence. Swaths of people just around the corner bustle up and down the walkway of the strip. It’s noisy, but between them it’s a soundproof chamber, a thick barrier that neither wants to knock on. It feels like hours pass, but only a handful of minutes do. Darren has to stand before his legs go numb.

Jacob’s dark circles twitch even under the shadow of the building he sits against. The man looks more restless with every pass of the sun. When was the last time he got a proper night’s sleep?

“Alright, I won’t prod at what ails you because it is also 'not my business',” he says, tone sharp. Deliberately so because Jacob doesn’t seem to want to listen if it was anything less. “But for what it’s worth to you, not every plan will go the way you want. Shit would be too easy if it did.”

“You can stay here festering with your hangover as company, but I would appreciate it if you weren’t a danger to society, or yourself, while in your stupor.” He taps Jacob’s boot with the tip of his own. “Come by my flat if you want to talk. Or don’t. The choice is yours.”

A long listless sigh is Jacob’s response. Followed by a sound that is both frustration and resignation.

“Just don’t make any more stupid ones today,” Darren says before he turns and disappears into the crowded sidewalk.

---

Darren doesn’t expect Jacob to accept his invitation, if the previous few days were any indication of how the man handles his emotional baggage. He doesn’t expect the knock at his door, and behind it a disheveled Jacob, who still smells of alcohol, asking to talk, refusing to step into the flat because he says ‘if he comes in, he won’t want to leave’. He doesn’t expect to spend the next few minutes in hanging silence, loitering in his own doorway, waiting for Jacob to find his words to no avail. And he absolutely doesn’t expect for his door to be blocked by the tip of Jacob’s boot when he gives up and dismisses him, or the gaggle of words that are far too many thoughts, all unloaded like every bullet in the barrel.

The whole story. Out just like that. Not in order, but sometimes it makes more sense for it to not make sense. Jacob finally let the dam break.

And it makes Darren’s chest ache a little. For all the wrong reasons. He would like nothing more than to lock away his feelings, nothing more than a child’s crush that would not come to fruition. He despises how his own infatuation was the first concern when Jacob was pouring himself out to him. There was no time for that. Was it jealousy that he let implant itself in his thoughts? Of a Templar? Revolting. Darren thinks himself selfish. 

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to offer his ear. But as a friend, Darren opens the door and invites him in.

Jacob isn’t sobbing, just a little wetness. He isn’t sad or furious, despite the red in the tip of his nose and the corners of his eyes. He’s uncertain. Confused. Complete opposite of what Jacob Frye had made himself to be and what he had built into his name. Self-assured and determined. The “roll with the punches” type of man. Now dealt a hand of jokers, his perfect streak of flushes and jackpots, no matter how rough the game was, had been dented and forced to fold.

Darren watches him sink his face into his palms, fingertips threatening to gauge his own eyes out. He offers a handkerchief.

“Being unsure of yourself is not a bad thing,” he says as Jacob takes the cloth.

Jacob holds the offering in a loose grip. “You say that as if you don’t already have yourself all figured out.” 

Darren grunts at that. “What makes you so sure that I have? Even I have my share of uncertainties.”

“Because you talk and act without a hair out of place. You don’t waver. You have confidence.”

“Don’t you do the same? You just described yourself, how we all see you.” Darren forces a pause from him. “Is that not your every day?”

“I thought it was.”

“So you let a few mistakes strip you of your confidence?” He eases off the edge of his desk. “Perhaps they were harsh ones, but every person is capable of a lapse in judgment. And if I’m going to continue being honest here, I don’t know what you could have done differently.” Jacob scowls at him. “Life isn’t going to present you with all the right choices and effortlessly fall into your lap, Mr. Frye. What we do for our cause and the Brotherhood is a child’s game in comparison.”

There is a second of hesitation before Darren wipes at the corner of Jacob’s eye with a thumb. He studies the man’s face, tries to read his expression to figure out what he is thinking at this moment.

“You can continue to brood and put yourself through your tar of misery,” Darren softens. “Or you can take what happened and learn from it.”

Eventually, Darren is able to usher Jacob to the door, seeming less tense and tangled in his thoughts than when he first arrived. He presents Jacob with his hat and tells him to get some sleep. God knows he needs it.

He considers his next move, unsure if it was hubris or something else entirely, and wonders what tremors it would put in the ground he walked. Darren lets himself the reckless act for just a moment, lets his pulse rock in tempo with those tremors. Lips press to Jacob’s forehead in the new wrinkled spot between his brows. And those mere seconds feel like an eternity.

“You’ll be alright.”

They stand an arm’s length apart, in another kind of silence, disrupted only by the creaking of the door.

[recurring-polynya]

For Stuff For Renji's Birthday Prompts: 1) time travel turn back the clock nonsense, bc I'm an enabler and Karakura teens plus shithead Renruki teens has *Byakuya voice* strong comedic potential OR 2) Hisana lives but due to wacky circumstances, nobody notices Rukia's existence at the Academy... until they've graduated and Renruki have joined Squad 11. Dealer's choice! (Honestly whichever you pick, I might try writing the one you don't. I am not a writer these 2 just live in my head rent free)

Why would you make me choose between these, whyyyyyyyyyy?

To be honest, I almost did them both, but this was the second one I did, and I figured that I should probably do some other people’s prompts, and then I ran out of time. I might do you some time travel shenanigans later. (This should in no way stop you from writing these, I would flip my chips if you wrote something, let alone something based on my horrible ideas)

In any case, I couldn’t resist the second options and I have spun it out into a delightful bit of Byakuya-torture. Please enjoy!!!

Special thanks to @kaicko for helping me come up with the clerical error, because you all know me, I can’t just say “a clerical error.” 😂

Read on ao3 or ff.net

💀   💀   💀  

“How is the tea?” Aizen Sousuke asked smoothly.

The tea was excellent, but Byakuya wasn’t in the mood for Aizen’s needy attempts to ingratiate himself. “Adequate,” he replied dryly. “You said you had something to discuss with me.”

“Ah, diligent as always, Byakuya,” Aizen sighed, “always eager to get back to work. I’ll get to the point: I happened to speak with your wife recently at a fundraising event. She’s very interested in the people of the deep Rukon, and said she travels to South Rukongai frequently.”

Byakuya narrowed his eyes. “What is your point?”

“Well, I thought it was a bit of a strange occupation for a woman of your wife’s noble standing, but then Gin reminded me that she was actually from there herself, that there had been a bit of a to-do when you two married. I don’t tend to follow gossip myself--”

“I repeat, what is your point?” Byakuya gritted your teeth.

Aizen made a pissy little throat clearing noise and fiddled with a folder on his desk. “The fact is, Byakuya, your wife reminds me a great deal of a young woman who served in my squad a few years ago, whom I recalled also hailing from the Rukon. I wondered if there might be a.... connection.”

Byakuya’s shoulders stiffened. Impossible. He had put watches on all immigrants to the Seireitei. He would have reviewed anyone who came from the South 78th.

“Inuzuri Rukia,” Aizen read from his file, and Byakuya’s blood ran cold. “Shin’ou class of 2066. Unseated. Petite, like your wife. Dark hair. Very striking eyes. Unfortunately, an unremarkable shinigami. Potential for a good kidou user, but didn’t take direction well. More interested in sword combat, although she had little aptitude for it. Ah, here it is. Hometown: District 48, South Rukongai.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Byakuya said flatly. “Inuzuri is the 78th district of South Rukongai. Why would she carry a surname from a different district?”

Aizen made an exaggerated frown. “Very strange! A clerical error perhaps? Hold on a moment.” He stuck his head out of his office door and said something to the shinigami on reception duty. “Fortunately, there’s an easy way to clear this up. It’ll just be a minute.”

Byakuya gripped his teacup, unsure of how to feel. A clerical error. Class of 2066… she would have enrolled in 2060, in the middle of Hisana’s worst turn, when she had been bedridden for nearly four years. Their attention would have lapsed. It made sense.

“She does not sound like your usual recruit,” Byakuya accused. Aizen was constantly finding ways to skim the highest performers from the Academy, all the gifted children.

Aizen looked sheepish. “Ah, well, you see, there was a young man of some talent that I was eager to recruit who was… attached to her. I thought she might have some potential if properly guided, but it never panned out.”

Aizen’s good deed was suddenly beginning to make sense. The girl had transferred out and taken Aizen’s prize with her. He wanted Byakuya to go fetch her away in hopes that the talented one would come home. Byakuya actually felt much better now that he’d identified Aizen’s ulterior motive, and further, that it had more to do with his own petty recruiting schemes than Byakuya’s family (specifically, Byakuya’s wife).

There was a knock at the office door, and upon being bid entry, a young woman walked in. Although indeed petite and dark-haired, she looked nothing like Hisana, and Byakuya remarked as much.

“Oh, no, this is my Seventh Seat!” Aizen chuckled. “Miss Hinamori, you were friends with Inuzuri Rukia, isn’t that correct?”

The young woman’s eyes had gone wide when she recognized Byakuya. “Er, yes, sir,” she said, her eyes darting between the two captains. “We shared a room while she served here.”

“Do you happen to remember what district she was from?” Aizen asked in an overly friendly manner.

“Oh, sure, it was South 78,” Hinamori replied. “Inuzuri, of course.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know all the outermost ones,” Aizen said in his goofy voice again. “Her paperwork says 48.”

Hinamori’s brow furrowed for a moment and then her face brightened. “She and Abarai had very heavy accents when they first came to the Academy, and used a lot of deep Rukongai language quirks. I don’t remember all of it, but they both used to use ‘shichi’ instead of ‘nana’ for seven, especially when referring to their district. They weren’t very fond of their home district. I wonder if the registrar misheard.”

“Well, there you go!” Aizen said, slapping his hands on his desk. “A very logical explanation!”

Hinamori beamed.

Byakuya found Aizen’s need to be liked by his subordinates very unprofessional and off-putting, but he tried to push it aside. He was trying not to be too eager, but this was probably the best lead he’d had on Hisana’s sister in all the years they had been searching. “Where is she now?” he grumbled.

Aizen turned his doe eyes on his fawning subordinate once more. “I don’t suppose you still keep in touch? She couldn’t have lasted very long there, they must have transferred again?”

Hinamori made a face like she didn’t want to say the answer. “I’m afraid that Kira and I had a bit of a falling out with Abarai and Inuzuri when they left. I haven’t talked to them in a few years, although we still have some mutual friends. As far as I know, though, they’re both still at Squad Eleven. I heard they were doing fairly well there, actually.”

The room seemed to retreat around Byakuya. All he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears and the reverberations of the most horrible words he could possibly think of: Squad Eleven.

---

Byakuya knew it was poor etiquette to visit another captain’s squad when the man was out, but he absolutely could not stomach the idea of discussing the matter of his wife’s sister with the Kenpachi, so he waited until Zaraki and his miniature lieutenant were sent out to go trample half of East Rukongai before visiting.

He also knew that he probably should have said something to Hisana, but he couldn’t bring himself to get his wife’s hopes up, only to dash them, should this turn out to be nothing, like so many leads before it. So, the secret sat in his stomach, heavy and acidic, jostling with the guilt of his breach of etiquette.

“Is there someone here,” he gingerly asked one of the gentlemen on gate duty, “who takes care of administrative matters for the squad?”

The man swiveled his head, which appeared to grow directly from his torso with no need for an intervening neck, to his fellow guardsman. “What?”

The other fellow had been busy trying to remove wax from his ear with a pinky. “WHAT?” he shouted back.

“Paperwork!” Byakuya said a little louder. “Is there an office of some sort? A person who knows what’s going on?”

He supposed he could have asked for the girl, Inuzuri, directly, but he didn’t feel… ready.

“I think he wants Ayasegawa,” the neckless guard hazarded.

“WHAT?”

“I’ll be right back.”

Eventually, the burly gentleman returned. With him was a strangely elegant person with a silky curtain of hair cut severely to chin length and piercing violet eyes. “It really is you,” the lovely man said with a level of disdain that Byakuya almost had to admire. Before he had a chance to get offended, the man dipped into a respectful bow. “Welcome to the Eleventh, Captain Kuchiki. Fifth Seat Ayasegawa at your service. What in Soul Society can I possibly do for you?”

“Apologies for visiting while your captain is abroad,” Byakuya replied, not meaning a word of it.

“Oh, he’ll be very sorry to have missed you,” Ayasegawa frowned. “But I’m sure you could make it up to him later.”

Byakuya’s eye twitched. “Perhaps. I have come to enquire about a young woman whom I am told transferred to your squad three years ago.”

“Does she have a name? That might make it a little easier.”

“Inuzuri Rukia.”

Both of Ayasegawa’s eyebrows shot up, and his mouth curved into a feline grin. “Ninth Seat Inuzuri, of course!”

Byakuya blinked. “Ninth Seat? Captain Aizen told me she was middling at best.”

Ayasegawa's face suddenly went stiff. “She was not well-served at the Fifth, but she has bloomed here most beautifully. Inuzuri is my personal protege, you know.” He stared at Byakuya under hooded eyes. “What is your interest in her? Captain?”

Byakuya took a deep breath through his nose. “My wife is also from Inuzuri. She is trying to locate someone she knew there. It is possible this Rukia is that someone.”

Ayasegawa frowned. “Well, I can introduce you, if you like. I should warn you, though, Rukia doesn’t have a lot of lost love for her hometown.”

“My understanding is that there isn’t much to love about it.”

“Mmm,” Ayasegawa agreed. “Well, come along, let’s go find her.” He concentrated for a moment, clearly trying to find her reiatsu. She must be a woman of some power, after all. “Ugh! She and Abarai are at it again! Every day!”

Byakuya swallowed stiffly.

“Well come on! She’s out at the training fields, clobbering our Tenth Seat, yet again.”

Oh. That kind of “going at it.”

Ayasegawa was shaking his head. “The two of them are literally an unstoppable force and an immovable object.”

“Abarai was also at the Fifth?,” Byakuya probed cautiously. “I was told they were close.”

“Of course they’re close!” Ayasegawa scoffed. “They’re partners!” He thought for a moment. “Abarai is from the 78th as well, you know. If Rukia turns out to not be your girl, perhaps one or the other of them knew the person you’re looking for. Abarai is one of those people who just… knows everyone. He’s the personable half of the pair.”

“‘Partners’?” Byakuya echoed. “What… kind of partners?”

Ayasegawa stared back at him like he was insane. “Partners.”

This path of inquiry clearly wasn’t going to get him anywhere, but wasn’t particularly relevant, either. “I did not think kidou-type zanpakutou were permitted in the Eleventh,” Byakuya sniffed. “Aizen’s records indicated Inuzuri wields an ice-and-snow type.”

Ayasegawa gave a little shrug. “Zanpakutou classifications are arbitrary. Obviously, if she had a bunch of showy blizzard attacks like Matsumoto’s little prodigy friend, it would be a no-go. Rukia can take the blade of her sword down to sub-zero temperatures. She has a weapon-shattering attack and she doesn’t feel pain when she’s fighting. It’s fundamentally no different than a zanpakutou so massive that only the wielder can lift it, or a whip sword that’s controlled with one’s reiatsu.”

This sounded like a quibble to Byakuya, but it’s not like he had come to the Eleventh looking for sound logic.

“She’s incredibly fast, probably the fastest person in the Eleventh, although no one’s really sure what Yachiru’s top speed is,” Ayasegawa continued on. He glanced at Byakuya slyly. “I hear you are very fast.”

“You have heard correctly.”

“That’s why Abarai can’t beat her. If he could land one really hard hit on her, she’d go down, but he’s not fast enough and she’s just too agile. He’s my partner’s protege, you see, so I have to take their little scraps very personally.”

How did this man talk so much?

“What did you say your wife’s relationship was to her again?”

“I did not.”

“Ah, right. Oops, look out!” Ayasegawa abruptly dove to one side as a giant mass of shihakushou and pink hair and what might be a sword came crashing through the split rail fence surrounding the training field.

Byakuya was not in the habit of ducking, so he merely plunged the force of his reiatsu down into the earth like a piton. It was almost, but not entirely sufficient. Byakuya gritted his teeth as he was driven back, dirt piling up behind his heels as he skidded backwards.

When they finally came to a halt, Byakuya looked down at the meaty youth lying at his feet. This must be the infamous Abarai, although he certainly didn’t look like one of Aizen’s usual simpering overachievers. The first thing Byakuya observed was the eye makeup. Most shinigami applied at least a little eyeliner, on grounds of tradition, but few bothered to blacken the entire eye socket, as in the skeletal facepaint of old. The second thing Byakuya noticed were the tattoos painted across his forehead and neck. They were black and spikey and horrible. The third thing was the hair, which was bright pink and spikey, and utterly at odds with the makeup and tattoos. The fourth thing was the big, sheepish grin, which honestly just tied the whole hideous tableau together.

Byakuya glared down at the lout, and in a moment of pettiness, flared his reiatsu to a level that should have sent blood spurting out of his ears.

“I’m afraid that’s not going to do much to someone who has a weekly sparring slot with the Kenpachi,” Ayasegawa commented dryly.

“Sorry ‘bout that!” the lummox cheerfully apologized as he sat up and brushed himself off. He had an Inuzuri accent so thick you could spread it on toast, an accent that Hisana tended to slip into only when she was extremely bent out of shape. Abarai snapped the sword hilt in his hand, and the tangled pile of steel on the ground neatly retracted into something that looked a little more like a weapon, if a weapon were designed by a creative and overly violent child.

“That’s a captain, you buffoon!” another voice rang out, and every muscle in Byakuya’s body locked. “Show your respects!”

The voice clearly affected Abarai as well, because he leapt to his feet, spun, and slammed into a bow. “My apologies, Captain…” his eyes glanced up and abruptly widened, “Kuchiki.”

“Greetings, Captain Kuchiki! Welcome to the Eleventh Division! I apologize very profusely for throwing Tenth Seat Abarai at you!” A second young person had come to join Abarai in his bow, and they both rose in unison, Abarai looking suddenly pale and nervous, his companion looking calm and confident.

So this was Inuzuri Rukia. She had Hisana’s voice. She had Hisana’s stature, and standing next to Abarai made her look positively childlike. She wore the same dreadful eyeblack, but the eyes that shone out of it were a variation on Hisana’s, harder and three shades more purple. The rest of the face was Hisana’s. Her hair was dark, shaved on the sides, arranged into porcupine spikes on top, although one lock hung down stubbornly between her eyes. Her ears glittered with silver piercings. At least she was free of awful tatt-- wait, no. Byakuya had missed them at first, because they were white. Abarai’s tattoos were spiky and sharp, but Inuzuri’s were graceful swirls, like ribbons wrapping lazily down her forearms. Even her reiatsu was like Hisana’s-- but instead of a cool, refreshing wintergreen, Inuzuri’s was the bone-deep cold of winter, a cold so harsh it burnt in the lungs.

There was no doubt.

This atrocious delinquent was his long-lost sister-in-law.

“Can we help you with something, sir?” Inuzuri prompted. “Abarai here’s a big fan of yours.”

“Shut up, Rukia,” Abarai managed through gritted molars.

“Inuzuri Rukia, you died as an infant thirty-six years ago and were sent to the 78th District of South Rukongai, is that correct?” Byakuya said stiffly.

Inuzuri and Abarai both bristled, a pair of mongrels raising their haunches. “That seems about right,” Inuzuri replied slowly. “My early years are a little hazy.”

“My wife, Hisana also died thirty-six years ago and was sent to Inuzuri with her infant sister,” Byakuya went on. “They were separated. My wife has been looking for her sister ever since. You… resemble her greatly.” Byakuya let the implication hang in the air. He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

There was silence for a moment. Then there was the distinct noise of a laugh that, having been held in, had escaped through someone’s nose. “Sorry! Pardon me!” Ayasegawa wheezed, clapping one hand over his mouth and looking away. “Bit of. Dust. In my throat.”

“I told you! I told you, you looked like that picture of her in the Bulletin!” Abarai was hissing.

“I thought you were lying because you thought she was pretty!” Inuzuri hissed back.

“I thought she was pretty because she looks just like you!”

“Now is really not the time, Abarai!” She cleared her throat and tried to stand up a bit taller, a futile effort. “So, uh, so what? What does that mean, if I am her sister? Does that… does that make me noble?”

A higher pitched wheezing came out of Ayasegawa. The level of impudence was extraordinary.

“I would like you to come to my home to meet her, first,” Byakuya put off making any promises. “We can discuss what comes next. As a family.”

“I’m at work right now,” Inuzuri excused.

“Inuzuri, I need to know how this pans out, you can have the afternoon off,” Ayasegawa informed her.

Inuzuri’s confidence seemed to be draining out of her. She took a tiny step closer to Abarai and groped for his hand. “I’m bringing Renji,” she declared.

“Is he compulsory?” Byakuya asked. Inuzuri was absurd looking too, but at least she was small.

“He’s my family,” Inuzuri insisted.

Byakuya’s brows furrowed. This could prove problematic. “In any sort of legally binding sense?”

“We’re engaged!” Inuzuri announced.

“We are?” Abarai goggled.

“I told you I’d marry you if you could ever manage to beat me in a fight! What else would you call that?” Rukia hissed at him in a voice that was still, unfortunately, perfectly audible.

“I’ve been trying every day, and honestly, Rukia, it’s not looking good for me!”

“Can you just go with it for once, instead of arguing with me every time?”

“If you want to leave and never tell anyone you found her,” Ayasegawa put in, “I am very bribable.”

Byakuya was sorely tempted.

---

End note: To further explain the number mix-up, as I understand it “seven” in Japanese can either be said as “nana” or “shichi”. People usually say “nana” for two reasons-- 1) to avoid confusion with 4 (”shi”, although you can also say “yon”) and because “shi” is a homophone for death. Given how shitty the districts in the 70s are, I rather liked the idea that they residents use the “shichi” pronunciation as a bit of gallows humor. (And if you don’t have a rude nickname for the town you grew up in, well, congrats for not growing up somewhere shitty)

I don’t actually speak Japanese, tho, so forgive me if this is all nonsense. 😁

[tsarisfanfiction]

Explosive

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort Characters: Gordon, Scott

The erupting volcano was almost sedate compared to the fraying tempers in the danger zone.

For @whumptober-archive’s day 5 “I’ve got red in my ledger” using the prompt broken nose.  Today was tough - I actually started poking at alt. prompts for a while, but they didn’t want to flow, either.  Still, we got somewhere in the end!

The sound of a breaking nose was distinctive.  Cartilage crumpled, bone shattered, and it all combined into a unique symphony that once heard once, was never forgotten again.

Gordon had known that Scott was having trouble with some rescuees; it was hard not to, when their loud and explosive protests had been broadcasting clearly through Scott’s open comm. That was the whole reason he’d left the other part of the danger zone – a small town directly in the path of a leisurely yet unrelenting volcanic eruption – to Virgil and Alan in order to back their big brother up.  Sure, Virgil probably could corral their reluctant rescuees with a combination of his seemingly-eternal patience and sheer bulk, but if Scott’s Commander persona wasn’t getting through, then Gordon wasn’t a fan of throwing Virgil into the mix. Alan wasn’t even a consideration.

He’d recommended himself, John had agreed, and Scott hadn’t even given any indication that he’d heard him over the increasingly-aggressive sounding rescuee, so he went.

Unfortunately, it sounded very much like he hadn’t got there in time.  There was, of course, a chance that Scott had snapped and been the first to lash out, but Gordon was doubtful that that was the case, even if he’d personally prefer it over Scott being the victim.  Scott was good at keeping his temper under control on rescues, provided none of his family were threatened – and as he was alone in his sector of the danger zone, there was no way they were successfully threatening the rest of them. Ergo, the one with the freshly broken nose was Scott, and Gordon was incredibly displeased at that.

They were still shouting, none of their voices tinged with the tell-tale thickness of a broken nose, and the sound of more contact echoed across the comm.

Gordon accelerated a little more, breaking into a risky jog as he closed in on Scott’s location. Ungrateful and difficult rescuees were the worst, especially when they got violent towards his brothers.  Scott could, in theory, handle it – although it was sounding rather like this time he couldn’t – but Kayo was the only other one of his siblings whose self-defence skills were greater than simply passable so Gordon often ended up as some form of defence.

That didn’t mean he liked doing it.  They were there to help people, not fight them.

He slowed his pace again on the final approach, wanting to get a visual on the situation before actually getting involved.  Blue and yellow wasn’t the best for stealth, but if no-one was actively looking for someone else nearby, he could disguise his presence reasonably well.

There were three of them, all yelling loudly.  Smart businessmen in suits, but one was built a lot like Virgil and his face was a similar colour to Thunderbird Three as he roared at Scott.  Gordon’s brother was backed up against a crumbling building that looked like it had been victimised by the warning quakes – another concern to keep an eye on – with one hand cupping his face in a way that made it perfectly clear that he was the one with the broken nose and the other balled into a fist of frustration.

His restraint was admirable; Gordon could tell that his temper was seething, and that the temptation was there to lash out in retaliation, but so far he hadn’t stooped to their level.

Gordon’s job was to make sure he didn’t.

“What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?” he inquired, stepping over some other quake-caused rubble as he made his presence known – still far enough away that they couldn’t just take a swing at him.  “You know, this area is in the path of a whole load of lava and leaving would be a really good idea.”

“We’re not leaving!” the red-faced hulk snarled.  To Gordon’s relief, he turned away from Scott to face him instead.  “Get your fancy machines over here and protect my property.”

One of those, was he? Gordon wished he was surprised, but the arrogant, sharply dressed businessmen almost always cared more for their property than their lives.  It made them incredibly tiring to deal with.

“Sir, that’s a wall of lava bearing down on us,” he pointed out, taking another step closer.  “We can’t stop it, just get everyone out of its path before they end up like the residents of Pompeii.”

And Herculaneum, John’s voice snarked in the back of his head, although John himself was too busy directing Virgil and Alan while keeping an eye on the volcano itself to contribute to the conversation.

Red turned to a rather impressive shade of purple instead.  “I demand that you protect my property,” the man exploded, rather like the erupting volcano itself.  “It’s worth more than you could possibly imagine.”

Considering the Tracys ranked somewhere particularly impressive in the list of richest families in the world, Gordon probably could.  The attending Thunderbirds alone were likely worth more than whatever it was he was trying to protect.  He knew better than to mention that, though.

“That volcano really doesn’t care,” he said instead, which probably wasn’t much better.  Movement behind the men facing him indicated that Scott was doing the smart thing and getting out of his cornered situation, although Gordon wasn’t naïve enough to think that he was being smart enough to leave the confrontation entirely.

“I don’t care what the volcano thinks,” purple-face yelled, lunging forwards.  Gordon had been wondering when he’d snap again.

Already on guard, and not hemmed in against a building with nowhere to go, it was a piece of cake to duck down beneath the flailing arm, watch him overbalance, then grab his wrist and yank him into a submission hold.

“Hey!”  The other men reacted, but Gordon glared at them and they halted in their tracks.

“Look,” he told the struggling man.  “Our job is people, not properties, and we’re not leaving you to die so either you come with us peacefully, or I’ll force you.”  He tightened his grip.  “And we do not appreciate being attacked for trying to save your sorry asses.”

“Gordon!” Scott scolded, although his name came out all mangled thanks to the broken nose. Gordon elected to ignore him.

“There’s nothing International Rescue can do to stop the volcano destroying whatever it wants to destroy,” he continued.  Purple-face gaped breathlessly, while the other two watched.  “So are you going to go to the evac zone willingly, or do I have to force you?”

Scott’s hand clamped down on his own shoulder, but Gordon continued to ignore him in favour of waiting for the answer.

It didn’t take long.

“I’ll go, I’ll go! Let me go and I’ll go right now!”

Like many of their more aggressive encounters, it was all bravado shielding a delicate ego.  Gordon released him and quickly stepped backwards, out of range of any other potential attacks – pushing Scott out of the way as he did – but it seemed that this one actually knew when he was beaten.

A dark look, an under-the-breath grumble that was probably some version of the cliché I’ll get you for this, and the man scarpered.  The other two, who were almost certainly just lackeys, followed hot on his heels, and Gordon watched them go with narrowed eyes.

“Gordon,” Scott repeated again, all nasally and disapproving.  He rolled his eyes – it wasn’t like Scott wouldn’t have done the same or worse had their situations been reversed – before turning to face his big brother.

“How did you let that guy get a hit on you?” he asked, mostly as a distraction and not because he was interested in the answer.  Scott huffed, then winced.

Gordon closed the gap between them and reached for his cheek, carefully prying the concealing hand out of the way so he could see the damage properly.

“Gordon-”

“There’s no-one else left in this sector, Virgil and Alan have the rest of it under control, and that lava’s taking its sweet time approaching,” he reminded him coolly.  “There is plenty of time for me to check you over."  He lay his hand gently on Scott’s cheek, pushing himself up on tip-toe to be closer to eye level.

His nose was going to need re-setting; Gordon could do it right there, but it’d be without painkillers, whereas if they waited until they were back to Thunderbird Two they’d have the full medical compliment, including Virgil.  Blood dripped sluggishly down, crossing Scott’s upper lip and dripping periodically onto his lower, and the classic twin black eyes were already beginning to blossom.

Scott suffered the inspection impatiently, switching his weight from foot to foot and glancing around the danger zone with an angsty air.  Gordon was too used to his big brother’s quirks to be bothered by any of that.

“You’re getting some beautiful shiners,” he declared, swiping away the next dribble of blood with his thumb before releasing Scott’s head.  The look Scott gave him could only be interpreted as thank you, Captain Obvious.  “No light-headedness, double-vision, or any other signs of concussion?”

“I’m fine,” came the muffled, irritated, response.  Gordon suspected he was at least partially annoyed with himself for being jumped in the first place.  “We have an evacuation to finish.”  It came out more like we hab an ebacuadun do binid.

Gordon eyed him critically, well aware that Scott wouldn’t admit to anything if he thought he could just push through it, but concurred.

He changed his mind approximately four seconds later, when Scott stumbled and swayed slightly.

“No light-headedness?” he repeated pointedly, fingers firmly wrapped around his brother’s bicep and holding him upright.

Scott didn’t acknowledge that with a verbal response, but the way he tugged to keep walking was enough for Gordon.

“Change of plan,” he chirped, taking the lead and guiding a somewhat reluctant Scott straight towards Thunderbird Two.  “Virgil and Alan finish off the evac while I give that head of yours a proper scan and we’ll see what’s wrong.  Well, more wrong than usual, I mean.”  He ducked a half-hearted swipe and tightened his grip when Scott threatened to overbalance again.  “John, you get that?”

“F.A.B.,” their perpetually eavesdropping brother agreed, appearing above his wrist.  “Virgil and Alan have been updated and the local authorities informed about the dangerous rescuees.”

“Perfect,” Gordon said. “Hear that, Scott?  You’ve got nothing to do except let me check you over, and I’ve got nothing to do except check you over, so let’s go do that and make sure you didn’t get a concussion.”

“I’m not concussed,” Scott protested thickly.

“Which is exactly what a concussed Scott Tracy would say,” Gordon pointed out.  Scott stumbled again and he graduated from holding his bicep to wrapping his arm around his waist.  “It’s just one measly little scan, Scott.  It won’t bite.”

The glare he got in response to that was almost enough to convince him that Scott was probably fine. Almost.

Gordon chuckled as they approached the large green Thunderbird.  Her module was open, with rescuees milling around concernedly, so he made a beeline straight for the cockpit, Scott in tow.  His brother stumbled again, and Gordon firmly pushed him to sit in one of the passenger seats before retrieving a medscanner.

No concussion, but there was a minor head injury – not including the obvious.  Gordon supressed a growl that would’ve been aimed at people out of earshot regardless, and dabbed lightly at the blood still sluggishly trickling down with a clean gauze.  His brother attempted to take over, or at the least bat him away, but Gordon caught his hand in his and guided it firmly to rest on his lap.

“Let me do it,” he scolded lightly.  “I can actually see where it is.”

It was a pretty feeble reason, admittedly – mirrors existed – but Gordon didn’t particularly care because he had no intentions of passing over the ministrations to anyone else anyway. If he did, he might just cave to the roaring instincts to teach the man – men – responsible a detailed lesson on why no-one hurt Gordon’s brothers.

It was much better for everyone involved if he kept himself busy.

[lovely-ateez]

Favorite Place~

ꕥPosted: 3/8/21

ꕥGenre: College!au, Angst, Fluff

ꕥPairing: FemReader! x Emo!Hongjoong

ꕥWord Count: ~4.8k

ꕥWarnings: General angst (happy ending), Unknown man being creepy to reader, Characters insulting reader behind her back, Alcohol intake, Driving with a few sips of alcohol (please don’t drink and drive), Implied violence, Language, Oral (f recieving), Unprotected sex, Corruption kink, Language

ꕥA/N: Reader is a girly-girl bc we need more rep that isn’t hella negative and to actually be portrayed as smart and hardworking for once 😤 You👏can👏be👏both👏 ANyWay—thank you for bearing with me while I wrote this

I ran my hands along the open science textbook laying upon my desk, eyes scanning rapidly over the information. The pages were thin and flimsy, clearly showing the book’s age. If I wasn’t careful, the pages would rip with ease. Not that I had time to actually think about that.

In less than five minutes I, along with the twenty five other poor souls who took this class of their own volition, would be handed our last final for the class. A hundred and ten questions in an hour and thirty minutes.

The class was basically academic suicide and had I been told that, I would have stayed far, far away from the class. But no. No one bothered to run that by me.

A whiff of familiar cologne filled my nose and against my better judgement I looked up to find the class genius, Hongjoong Kim. It was bad enough that he was smart as a whip and never needed to study, but on top of it all he was a dangerous, handsome, irresistible bad boy.

He gave me a wink, a sly smile resting on his lips. I gave him the same reaction I always did: a blank face. There had been multiple times he had tried to rile me up, whether that be say something flirty or wink, or “accidentally” touch my shoulder, and I refused to give him the satisfaction of any reaction. I would keep a blank face, hoping that he would leave me alone.

I wasn’t immune to his charms. I felt butterflies in my stomach every time he looked at me just like any other girl he tried it on, but I didn’t want him to know that. The biggest reaction I had given him was an eyebrow quirk at most.

I could tell it bothered him. I knew he was frustrated that he couldn’t get me to blush or stutter my words, and that may have been part of why he kept up his antics. Probably the entire reason, knowing him. Had he not been a fuckboy, I might have fallen for him. Might have.

I returned my eyes to my book and heard his footsteps walk past me, headed to the very back of class. His usual spot.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen,” A loud clap could be heard from the front of the room, our professor signalling the start of class, “It is time for your final. I hope you all are well prepared. I ask that you remove anything from your desk aside from a pencil and I will begin to hand out the tests. You may leave as you finish, just make sure to hand me your tests before you leave. Good luck.”

Book already off my desk, I gripped my pencil, hoping six hours of studying was enough.

“Thank you.” I muttered to my professor as he placed the stack of papers on my desk.

Here goes nothing, I suppose.

-

I handed in my test with a smile, hoping that I’d pass. Taking a deep breath I stepped out of the classroom, seeing a familiar face. At the noise of my footsteps Hongjoong looked up from his phone with a devilish smile, eyes staring me down. I must’ve not noticed he turned in his test before mine, not that I was surprised. He always finished his test the quickest out of all of us.

“How’s it going, pretty-in-pink?”

Pink was my favorite color and and I wore pink clothes often, unfortunately it had earned me several unwanted nicknames, all coming from Hongjoong.

I barely bothered him a glace, “I have a name.” 

“But your nicknames are so unique to you. Don’t you love them?”

“Can’t say I do.” I walked away, not interested in entertaining him any longer than I already had.

“Farewell, princess.” He fleeted me with a honey-like voice.

Suppressing an eye roll, I gripped the straps of my backpack, ecstatic to get away from him. The more time I spent away from him the better. The less time I was with him meant there was less of a chance for me to get attached to him. I refused to let that happen.

After I left the building I grabbed a coffee and walked to the library, bracing the cold weather. I only had one final left and I needed to make sure I studied enough. Just one last push before I was done for the semester. Taking the elevator up to the third floor, I saw a familiar face who smiled at me and I sat down at his table.

“Hey! How do you think you did on the final?” Lia asked me as I took my laptop out.

“Honestly I don’t know. I don’t want to say I passed because knowing my luck, if I do I’ll fail it. I knew the majority of the answers though, so there’s that.”

“That’s a positive.” She cocked her head, observing the way my eyes were glued to my laptop, “So what are you studying for now?”

“Criminal Psychology. I don’t take it until late tomorrow but I wanna get some studying in.”

“You’ve been studying for hours, you’ll be fine. Let’s just go shopping instead.”

My ears perked and I slowly raised my head, “Damn you. You know I’m not gonna turn you down.”

A wide smile formed on her face as she placed her hands behind her head, “What are friends for?”

“Oh don’t look so cocky.”

“Why not? I’m pretty sure I’ve won here. Now let’s get going.”

Lia stood up and slid on her backpack, a smile still plastered on her face. Just as I was placing my laptop in my own backpack I heard a string of male voices and a mention of my name.

I gave Lia a look and, curiosity taking over, I snuck closer to the direction of the voices to see a group of men at a table hid behind a large stack of bookshelves. There were four of them, not a one of them sitting properly in a chair. Two were sitting on top of the table, another with his legs propped on the table, the other sitting upon a backpack which itself was on a chair. I could only see two of their faces and didn’t recognize either.

“We’ve gotta invite the token good girl, right?” A tall man with dark hair smiled, leaning back on the table.

A man with distinct dimples, clad in all black scoffed, “Y/n? Like she’d go to a party anyway.”

“She might.” Hongjoong tiled his head, allowing me to see him, black earrings swaying as he looked at the man with dimples.

Oh. He’s there, too.

“She dresses like she still believes in the tooth fairy.” A man with a blonde ponytail scoffed, “You think she’s gonna come to a party with people like us?”

I grabbed Lia’s arm to prevent her from storming over. She was upset, I was too, but I wanted to keep listening. Still, I couldn’t deny the pang of hurt I felt as I looked down at my pink skirt and cropped top. Was it a crime to like the color pink?

And I thought I looked cute today...

“You should be the last person to judge someone over the way the dress, Yeosang. You never wear anything but black. If she likes it, then she likes it. Fuck you.” Hongjoong bit back.

I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I didn’t know why he defended me, maybe he was just defending fashion for fashion’s sake and it had nothing to do with me, but it was still nice of him.

Yeosang smiled, “Damn someone’s aggressive, huh? Someone might almost think you’ve got feelings for the girl.”

Hongjoong remained silent.

“Ooh is she still not reacting to your desperate attempts to woo her?”

Hongjoong quickly became defensive, “Listen, I’m not-”

“Okay we’re not getting into this. Just invite her, you never know what she’ll say.” The dark-haired man said to Hongjoong, “And invite her friend, too. She wouldn’t go alone.”

“Yeah that’s a fair point. I’ll talk to them next time I see them.”

I turned to face Lia, whispering in her ear, “Let’s go. Please.”

Her face told me that she would much rather confront them, but changed as my eyes began to water once more. She nodded and put an arm around me, leading me out of the library.

A tear fell down my cheek as we walked. I raised my hand to wipe my face when Lia did it for me. She pulled me into a tight hug, running her hands through my hair.

“Don’t you think for a second that you’re any less of amazing. Fuck them for not seeing it.”

As she spoke more tears began to fall and my breath hitched, “But-t they-”

“No. There’s no excuse for being shitty to you, especially when you haven’t done anything to wrong them.”

I nodded, trying my best to believe her and steady my breathing.

“What can I do for you? What can I do to help?”

Releasing Lia from my tight grip I stepped back and looked in her eyes, “Nothing. Let’s just go shopping.”

My friend nodded and slipped her hand into my own, something she would always do when I needed comfort. I squeezed her warm hand, following her footsteps as she led me to her car.

“So...you’re not gonna go to the party are you?”

“Yeah I don’t think so.”

She let out a hum in approval and nodded, opening the car door for me.

As much as I wanted to take my mind off of the boys’ words, I couldn’t. No amount of retail therapy seemed to help that. I knew Lia was doing her best to make me feel better and I felt a bit guilty for bringing down the mood. She scoffed when I told her, making eye contact and emphasizing that she simply wanted to make me feel better.

Sooner than I liked, we had to part. Lia had a class in thirty minutes and I had to help out in an on-campus activity. She gave me a tight hug and a small smile, bidding me adue.

I was the Vice President of our Activities Planning Board and as such was in charge of setting up an Academic Bowl for the competing students. Unfortunately, I was having trouble setting up the large tables and my small frame just made it harder. I was confident anyone around could see that I was struggling and I huffed, hoping no one would look my way. It didn’t help that I was outside in the middle of campus, where anyone just walking by could see me.

“Do you need any help?”

I turned to find Hongjoong with his dark backpack slung over his shoulder, a concerned look on his face. Had I not desperately needed help, I would have refused.

“Yeah I do. Hold this, will you?” I nodded at the opposite side of the table I was struggling to hold.

He appeared shocked that I accepted his offer, but I didn’t dwell on it and instead lifted the table. We worked in silence aside from a few words of instruction I gave him, and I was thankful for the lack of distraction. When we set up the last table I placed my hands on my hips, looking at the tables.

Hongjoong crossed his arms, “Why were you doing this alone?”

“No one else signed up to help for the Academic Bowl, so I did it myself.” He gave a confused look so I clarified my position.

“Of course you’re the Vice President.” Hongjoong muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I faced him, feeling slightly offended.

He shrugged, “I know you’re just involved in a lot. I’m not surprised.”

Ignoring his comment, I took the conversation another direction. “Why did you help me?”

“You needed help, princess.” He answered simply.

I nodded, ignoring the nickname. “Well...thanks.”

A moment of silence followed until Hongjoong broke it, “Hey listen, there’s a party this weekend I want you to go.”

“Why?” I cocked my head.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know anyone that will be there.”

“You know me.”

“That’s not exactly an incentive.”

He scoffed in mock offense, “Okay first of all, ouch. Second, what if I sweeten the deal?”

My eyebrows raised, lips forming a smile, “Oh yeah? What could that possibly be?”

He faltered for a moment, his voice lowering seemingly without intent, “That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile. You’re beautiful.”

I turned from him, trying to will any semblance of a flustered expression off my face. “You were saying before?”

Hongjoong chuckled, “I’ll drive. You can even invite your friend if you want.”

“Lia?”

“Yeah. If it makes you more comfortable.”

At first, I wanted to say no. At first, I wanted to continue my streak of refusing any advance he made on me. But looking at his kind eyes, completely devoid of any malintent, I felt my heart flutter. When my mind thought back to how he had defended me in the library I felt a warmth bubbling in my chest. I pretended to ponder for a moment, even though I already knew my answer.

“Okay but I don’t...I don’t think I should tell Lia.”

“Why’s that?”

“She kinda hates you.”

He looked taken aback, “Might I ask why?”

I sighed, crossing my arms, “Don’t worry about it. So where is this party?”

He filled me in on the details and I did my best to keep up my neutral façade. I wouldn’t admit it, but I was ecstatic to see him outside of campus, my will of staying away from him faltering by the minute.

-

I stood in front of my closet for what seemed like hours, desperately trying to find something that would match the occasion. I laughed a bit to myself as I looked at the section of black clothes I had. I went through a bit of an emo phase in middle school and I just couldn’t bring myself to get rid of any of them. I debated avoiding black clothes all together, but the words of Yeosang rang in my head and I bit the inside of my cheek.

Fine. I’ll change it up. But I’ll be damned if I give up on pink.

Taking a deep breath I slipped into a light pink leather skirt reaching mid-thigh with black fishnets. I put on a black leather jacket over my black see through shirt exposing my lacy bra underneath, my pink shoes on last.

I took several deep breaths and observed myself in the mirror. It was a change, definitely. I didn’t mind black, but I wouldn’t wear just black alone. I wanted it to be more feminine.

I heard a car horn outside my apartment much sooner than I expected. Bracing for Hongjoong’s reaction, I stepped outside. I was greeted with a smug smile, the man adorning it seeming as confident as a god until he observed my clothes, his eyebrows raising.

Hongjoong’s eyes scanned over me, taking in my abrupt fashion change, “I still wasn’t entirely certain you’d go. Much less looking like this.”

My lips quirked into half-smile, “Well I can’t show up looking like I normally do.”

“Why not?”

My heart swelled at the genuine confusion evident on his face. “Some people don’t care for the way I dress.” I took a breath and continued, “I heard you and your friends in the library.”

I forced myself to look him in the eyes. I could see the gears turning in his head as he put the pieces together, a scowl forming on his face. “You don’t have to change a goddamn thing. You look great, don’t get me wrong, but you look great in pink, too. And I’m sorry if he made you feel otherwise.”

I shook my head. “It’s alright, I actually kinda like it.”

“You definitely make it work.” He swallowed, voice lowering.

“Then maybe I should wear a bit of black more often.”

The man gave a thousand dollar smile, quirking a brow that left my panties feeling slightly damp. He motioned to the car door, “Hop in, cutie.”

A friendly string of conversation followed us as Hongjoong drove. I felt my nerves starting to dissipate, his smile I once despised now bringing me comfort. And really, he was much funnier than I had believed. I found myself laughing with him more than I had in a long time. I knew my walls were falling, but I wasn’t trying to fight it anymore.

Why the hell not? He’s kind enough, and he isn’t even close to being hard on the eyes.

The car drive was much quicker than I expected, although how quickly I was unfamiliar with my surroundings through me for a loop. The trees around us became more sporadic and the sun set quicker than what seemed normal. I fidgeted slightly, prompting Hongjoong to look over at me. He intertwined my fingers with his own and I smiled, secretly welcoming his touch.

“Hey, don’t worry. I’m right here with you, okay?”

I nodded, grasping onto his hand tightly. Before I knew it, my eyes locked with the building in front of us. I took in the abandoned building in front of me, eyes widening slightly as I observed its poor condition. Large windows were shattered, vines were growing around pillars, grass peaking through what once was concrete.

“This is the most sketchy place I’ve ever seen in my life.” I spoke, feeling slightly alarmed by the building but comforted by Hongjoong’s presence.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad.”

“I literally just saw a rat run out a broken window.”

Hongjoong suppressed a smile and let go of my hand, opening his car door and telling me to stay in place as he walked around and opened the door on my side. I hesitated as I exited the car, a bit afraid of what could possibly be inside the building.

“We can leave at anytime. If you don’t want to go in we can leave right now. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

As sweet as he was being, I felt the need to prove to him that I was brave enough to enter, even if it did look like he was leading me to my death.

“Thank you, but I’m okay. We can go in.”

He smiled, leading me to an out-of-the-way entrance which seemed to lead to a different building entirely. I gave an involuntary “woah” as we entered the building. As horrific as it looked on the outside, it was gorgeous on the inside. Perfectly up kept brick walls hugged the sides of the building, lights were strung from the ceiling, arcade machines and dart boards were huddled in a corner, and of course, there was a bar with a seemingly unlimited amount of liquor. People were scattered all throughout, socializing and being generally loud. Everyone wore about the same color clothes as Hongjoong, dark as they could possibly get.

“How did you even find this place?”

“My friend Yeosang and I were just driving around and we found it one day. Decided to make it our hangout spot.”

I looked at him confused, still amazed at my surroundings. Hongjoong led me over to his familiar group of friends, assuring me that they wouldn’t bite, and introduced me to the seven men, four of which I hadn’t seen prior. I saw the color drain from a few of their faces as they saw me, likely from their words in the library, but I didn’t comment on it. Overall, they were much friendlier than I expected them to be.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” Hongjoong nudged me, “You want anything?”

“No that’s okay. I think I’m gonna check out the pinball machines. They look kinda cool.”

“You sure you don’t wanna stay by my side? I won’t take long.”

I shook my head, “I’ll be okay.”

He chucked, “Alright. I’ll grab a drink and I’ll head right over, princess.”

I bit my lip at the nickname and wandered over to the machines, surprisingly feeling comfortable in the environment, despite everything being so unfamiliar. All of the games were being used, some people clearly playing better than others.

I got lost in the artwork on the side of a particular pinball machine when a gruff voice caught my attention. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing here?”

I turned to meet a tall man with grey hair. He was young, likely in his mid-twenties, and reeked of cigarettes and a foul smell I couldn’t place.

A flash of fear ran through me and I tried to make my voice as confident as possible, “I was invited.”

“Well...that’s certainly a shame now, isn’t it? I wasn’t invited, but I decided to show up for a bit of fun anyway.”

He came closer to me, our height difference incredibly prominent as he leaned over me, “How about you give me a kiss, little thing?” I ran away as soon as the words left his mouth, hoping that he wouldn’t follow me but assuming he would. I dashed around quickly and sporadically around people, hoping I would lose him.

I looked around desperately for Hongjoong, sighing when I found him surrounded by his friends, laughing at something one of them said. I ran up to him and grabbed his arm, gaining his attention.

I hope this fucking works.

“I need you to kiss me.”

A look of confusion flashed in his eyes, “What?”

“Please kiss me.” I begged, eyes wide, disregarding the stares of his friends around us, hoping that if the man saw I was taken he’d leave me alone.

Without hesitation he wrapped his free hand around my waist—a cup of alcohol still in the other—and pulled me close, pressing his lips to my own. He kissed me hard, biting my bottom lip slightly and letting out a growl only I could hear. He wasn’t my first kiss, far from it, but no one had ever kissed me like he did. Just a kiss had never left me feeling weak at the knees. Just a kiss had ever made me feel so submissive, making me want to beg him to take me right on the spot, regardless of the fear in my veins. Even with the taste of alcohol still on his lips, his scent overtook me.

He pulled back, eyes darker than before, and raised a brow, “Care to tell me what that was about?”

Just then I realized my hands had been gripping his leather coat, pulling him just as close as he was pulling me. I looked over in the direction of where the man was before, not seeing him.

“A man was following me and he was trying to get me to kiss him a-and I didn’t know him...I just wanted him to leave me alone.”

His eyes narrowed at my words, a rage I hadn’t seen before taking over them, “What did he look like?”

“I-I don’t know he was tall and had grey hair and-”

He cursed under his breath. Keeping me just as close he turned to the men around him, their eyes narrowed as well.

“You heard that?” He asked his friends.

“Loud and clear.” San said, cracking his knuckles, a scowl on his face that scared me, even though I knew I wasn’t the one it was directed at.

“I thought we told him to never come back here.” Jongho snarled.

“We did.” Hongjoong said.

Seonghwa looked at me, nodding to Hongjoong, “Keep her safe and take her out of here. If he’s here I’m sure he’s brought friends. Yeosang, lead everyone out. We’ll take care of him.”

Hongjoong looked conflicted, obviously wanting to stay and fight, but gave into the older man’s command. “Be fucking safe,” he barked, but I could see the fear in his eyes as he looked at me, “Come on, we’re going.”

Seonghwa mumbled something to Hongjoong and he nodded in response, tossing his alcohol to the ground. I didn’t have time to ask questions as he led me out a back door, the darkness of the night equally horrifying and comforting, and quickly pushed me into his car, apologizing the entire time. He entered the key into the ignition and the car sprung to life.

“Uhh...maybe it’s not a good idea for you to drive. You’ve been drinking, right?”

“I had maybe two sips. I’ll drive safe, promise.”He gave me a small comforting smile, “Put your seatbelt on. Hold on tight, sweetheart.” His voice was calm but firm as he spoke. I nodded and did as he said, bracing as his car sped off, my heart beating in overtime.

The ride was a blur, the only things I could remember being Hongjoong’s calming voice, periodically reassuring me that things would be okay. We arrived at a foreign building which Hongjoong called his house, and only then did I let myself fall apart. I felt tears streaming down my face as my hands quivered, my head beginning to pound.

“Hey, hey look at me. You’re safe. You’re safe with me.” My teary eyes met his and I felt my heart break at the way he was looking at me, as if he had made me cry himself.

“Here, come on. Let’s get you inside, okay?”

My tears slowed as he carefully led me inside his house, sitting me down on his bed. He crouched down in front of me, wiping the tears from my face.

“I’m so sorry, princess. I didn’t realize he was going to be there. I never should’ve made you come along I’m so-”

“Who was that?”

Hongjoong sighed, “He used to be a friend of mine. We had a falling out and he became violent. One time he showed up at one of our parties with some friends of his to start a fight. We won and told him to never come back. Looks like he did.” He looked off into nowhere, regret clear on his face.

“You didn’t know,” I sniffled, “You couldn’t have known.”

I watched the muscles in his jaw tighten, his agitation still visible. I brought a hand out to reach his own, trying to comfort him. The loud ding of Hongjoong’s phone made me jump and he apologized profusely. As he took out his phone from his pants pocket I looked around his room for the first time. It looked exactly as I had expected, solid black furniture and so many band posters decorating the wall I could hardly tell what color his bedroom walls were.

Hongjoong spoke up, “I just got a text from Seonghwa. There were two other people there with him. My friends took care of them don’t worry, you’re safe.”

I nodded, pulling him into a hug and burying my face into his chest. “If you’re comfortable with it,” He started, “I’d like you to stay here. I want to know you’re safe.”

My eyes met his as he moved a hair out of my face, “I’m not pressuring you. If you don’t want to I understand.”

A hand of his ran up and down my back, tracing little patterns here and there, and I realized just how much I wanted to be with him.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to stay.”

He laughed, “What do you mean ‘if it’s alright with you’ I asked.”

I bit my bottom lip and looked down, a bit embarrassed.

Hongjoong laughed, “Hey, look at me.” He said in a commanding yet sweet tone that made my thighs press together. I glanced back up at him, his handsome features making me feel dizzy.

He chuckled, “What’s that look for? You got something to say to me?”

I hesitated, “Actually, I do have a question.”

“Which is?”

“Why did you chase after me?”

Hongjoong smiled, “You never gave a reaction to anything I tried. It confused me and piqued my curiosity. So I began to watch you and how you interacted with people. You’re gentle and sweet. You’re innocent and haven’t let the world tear you down. I admire that.”

He leaned closer to me, his lips brushing my ear, “And it turned me on beyond belief. I wondered how I could ruin you, thought about how I could turn you into a quivering mess as you beg for me.”

I shivered and pulled back slightly to look him in the eyes. His beautiful, dark eyes. Hongjoong let out a dark chuckle as he sat on his bed, lifting me on his lap. He gave an eyebrow raise and a crooked smile as my breath hitched while looking at him, taking him in.

How did I never notice how his dark hair falls to one side when he cocks his head and how he looks so endearing when it happens? How did I never pay attention to his soft pink lips that give way to his gorgeous smile and how much I’ve been dying to kiss them all this time? How did I not see the way his eyes form crescents when he smiles, making my heart grow ten times over?

Why did I never think to take note of how his deep voice makes my stomach do somersaults? Why was I so unaware of his tongue piercing that was leaving me wonder how it would feel on my skin? Why didn’t I observe the black painted nails of his that were currently dancing along my thighs, giving me goosebumps?

How and why did I never notice him?

“You’re such a good girl.”

And for the first time around him, I flushed.

He chuckled, “Oh? You like that?”

I nodded quickly and he said it again, smiling as my face heated up once more.

“It’s so good to see you react to what I say. I wonder...” Hongjoong leaned closer to me, “How will you react when you’re underneath me? Squirming and begging for me to touch you?”

I gave him a look of desperation and balled his shirt into my fist, trying to move him closer, “Please.”

Hongjoong lifted me off of him, quickly discarding my clothes followed by his own shirt. My eyes were guided down by his abs and I ran a hand across them without thinking, whimpering quietly.

“Is my baby girl getting needy?” He cooed.

I closed my eyes, once again nodding in embarrassment.

“How about we take care of that?”

He laid me down on the soft sheets of his bed, leaving me in anticipation as he pinned my hands above my head with a hand of his own. My eyes widened and he chuckled, running a single finger along my folds.

“You’re so unbelievably fucking wet...do I turn you on that much?”

I let out a small “yes” and he hummed in response. Placing a few kisses upon my lips, Hongjoong slowly entered two fingers into me and my back arched. His fingers curled, hitting a spot inside of me that’d I’d never been able to reach. I spread my legs as far as they could go, pleading for more, feeling tears prick my eyes.

Hongjoong spoke, his voice already dropping several octaves, “Keep your hands here, understand? I don’t want you moving them.”

I nodded, willing my hands to stay in place as his own moved to my hips, leaving kisses along my inner thighs.

“Hongjoong please.”

“Please what, princess?”

“Please touch me.”

“Oh, I think I can do better than that, don’t you?”

His lips attached to my core, tongue running through my folds and nose hitting my clit as I moaned pathetically. His hands held my hips down as I tried to buck them up, barely able to keep my hands above my head. After what felt like years, his mouth finally reached my clit and I cried out as his lips attached to it, sucking hard and leaving kitten licks. My high built up quickly and I came hard, my hands leaving their spot and pulling slightly on his hair.

“Thought I told you to keep your hands above your head, no?”

I mumbled an apology and he leaned over to kiss me, “You’re forgiven, darling.”

He seemed just as impatient as I was and without much begging the rest of his clothes were off, his dick teasing my entrance.

“God Hongjoong please I need you so bad.”

“I need you too, y/n.”

He fully entered me, cursing as he did so. I was so caught up in the feeling of him inside of me that I didn’t even register him asking me a question until he laughed at me.

“Feeling good, baby? Can’t even speak?”

I whimpered, nodding seeming to be the only thing I could manage to do. I felt his member twitch inside of me and I pleaded for him to fuck me, to give me anything. Hongjoong growled and jerked his hips up into me over and over, leaving me a moaning mess.

“Taking me so well, aren’t you? Such a good girl for me.”

The amount of praise he gave me caused a few tears to fall from my eyes, not realizing how bad I needed it until that moment. My walls clenched around him every time, causing him to groan and snap his hips into me even harder. Hongjoong’s eyes grew hazy, his dark hair sticking to his forehead.

“I’m close, darling. Be my good girl and cum for me”

His hand trailed down to my clit, rubbing tiny circles. My back arched as I came in time with him, our breaths synchronizing as we gasped for air.

He slowly pulled out of me and ran to the bathroom to grab a towel, cleaning me up. Hongjoong giggled and I raised a brow at him.

“I never thought you’d give me a chance. It’s almost like I’ve corrupted you.”

“You have. Aren’t you aware of the party I went to because of you? I almost died.”

Hongjoong laughed as he crawled into bed and pulled blankets over the both of us. He ran a hand through my hair, looking at me fondly, “You did not almost die.”

“Okay yeah but I could have. That’s what we should be focusing on here.”

“I think there’s something else I’d like to focus on.”

Hongjoong pulled me into a deep kiss, hand slithering down to my waist. His kisses trailed to my ear, a slight chuckle leaving his lips, “My pretty princess.”

I looked at him with doe eyes, slightly in awe of him, and wondered how I could’ve pushed him away for so long. I knew for certain that I had no intention of doing so ever again.

When I told him he smiled, “Good. You’ve had a grip on my heart since day one. I’d be a fool to let you get away from me.”

I blushed slightly, much to his entertainment. We snuggled up to each other in silence, listening to the sound of our synchronized breathing as I lulled to sleep, our warm fingers intertwined. My dreams filled of him.

“Sleep well, my princess. I’ll be right here when you wake.”

[plainlo-inthemorning]

A Loki TVA/Lokane fic. Rating T.

Previously: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (of 6)

Shine a Light, part 5

He is aware that the love of his life is digging her fingers into his arm and saying his name.

He is aware of Stark standing to his other side, visor off, speaking to someone on the phone. His voice is hard.

But most of all, Loki is aware that all their lives were just changed by a great big terrifying rip in the seam of reality.

Neither Jane nor the Avenger could possibly be completely sure of what they saw. Loki, as much as he desperately wants to, harbors little doubt.

The man he held in a death-grip only minutes ago and who just now disappeared through a doorway conjured out of thin air was somehow … himself.

Another him. Just as the man had said.

After witnessing from afar the double kiss Jane, Loki, who was coming back from a swim, had been more than ready to skip past introductions and just sever the intruder’s head from his body.

But as soon as he had laid hands on him, a torrent of images had flooded his mind – chaotic, confused images that seemed to span past, present, future and beyond.

The shock had made him lessen his grip and the double had used his (his!) magic to throw him off.

With some distance between them and Stark suddenly there as well, Loki had tried to let his rage quell the dizzying realization. Unsuccessfully.

He is still shaking, clutching a dagger in each hand. He drew them instinctively as the other made for the door.

He should have caught him!

“Loki! What did he say?!”

“What?” His thoughts are racing in too many directions to hear her.

“The … man, what was he saying to you?!”

Jane is looking up at him with those beautiful brown eyes, worry and urgency all over her delicate features. Though not fear, Loki notes. His ever-brave wife. Both her hands are now clamped around his wrist.

That thing kissed her.

The daggers disappear and Loki wraps both arms around the mother of his unborn child, almost crushing her to his chest while still staring at the spot where the double vanished.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, love”, he murmurs. He suspects things are very much not okay.

So does Jane, of course.

“Loki, was it … oof, not so tight … “

She wriggles against him, and he remembers his amor. And her condition. He immediately relaxes his arms a bit while letting the leather and metal melt back into the clothes he wore before: Black jeans and a fitted, dusty green t-shirt (his “rockstar outfit”, Jane had called it, when Loki first started switching up his human wardrobe some years ago now). Drops of saltwater still cling to the ends of his slightly curly raven locks.

“Tony! Jane, Loki! What on Earth was that?”

Pepper jumps out of the car parked in front of the house and runs towards them. She must have seen everything as she drove down the road following her flying husband.

“The verdict’s still out, Peps”. Tony nods at Loki. “You wanna chip in here? I just called the boy-scout at headquarters and told him to be on guard for one of the magician’s interns playing a prank”.

Loki shakes his head slowly.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think Stephen had anything to do with this”.

“You’re right, I didn’t”.

All four of them turn around to see the sorcerer step out of a swirling ring of light, his cape billowing around him. The mahogany floor and paneled walls of his Manhattan mansion are briefly visible behind him before the portal closes with a hiss of little sparks.

Strange is wearing an even sterner expression than usual which only adds to Loki’s growing sense of dread.

Tony, however, groans loudly.

“Dude, really? Couldn’t you at least have let us have dinner before party crashing? Not shaming your bachelor lifestyle or anything, but this was couples’ night!”

“Tony!” Pepper hits her husband on the arm.

Strange ignores him.

“I’m afraid the arrival of your surprise visitor indicates that a set of … unfortunate events have been set in motion”.

As always, his voice is as even as if he was reading the weather forecast, but by now Loki has learned to differentiate the (very) subtle nuances between scorn and sincerity. Strange places his hands behind his back and regards them coolly. “I’ve had Wong reach out to Doctor Banner and director Fury. They should be here shortly. Stark, you may want to-”.

Tony narrows his eyes, lip twitching.

“Hey, Bleeker Street, you know I have low tolerance for you showing up and barking orders without giving two f**** for context. How did you even know that something was going down here? By all means, don’t keep us in suspense until the cavalry gets here”.

Strange doesn’t answer, but the way his eyes dart to Jane sends needles through Loki’s heart.

“Let’s go sit down, shall we?” With one eyebrow raised, Strange puts on a suave smile and gestures towards the house. The effect is a little startling.

Jane ducks out from under Loki’s arms. “Jane, don’t you want to-“. She brushes him off.

“Yes, good idea, Stephen. Let’s go sit down”. She motions for Strange to follow. “Welcome to our home. I was actually making drinks before, but I think I need to add a bit more kick to them…”

Her voice is oddly calm, and Loki fights the urge to grab her and magic them both far, far away, not caring that she would be furious with him for making decisions on her behalf.

He’s brought back to the present by an even odder sound as Strange actually chuckles.

Loki is not sure he’s ever heard it before. Then again, it’s not that he really knows Strange when it comes down to it. Like Tony, Loki finds the wizard exceedingly arrogant.

Pepper is the first to follow Jane and Strange across the lawn while Loki and Tony hang back.

“Real ladies’ man when he wants to. Who would have thought”. The billionaire superhero scoffs. His suit has folded itself off and into a briefcase next to his feet.

“Tony-“

“Uh oh. First name basis. So this really is an emergency”.

Loki faces his friend. Often in the past years, as they’ve grown steadily closer outside of “work”, he has secretly marveled at how long they’ve come since someone threw someone else off a building after being called a diva.

And attacking a city with an alien army.

Jane always insisted the two “hotheads” (her word) had a lot in common when not trying to murder one another (be it with weapons or sarcastic commentary), and Loki has to admit she was right. The metal man is fiercely intelligent, and Loki has been enjoying the quick-witted snark between them infinitely more than he ever valued the company of Thor’s band of gullible warrior groupies on Asgard.

“Well?”. Tony is regarding him with eyebrows raised, expectant. “Give me your take on this cause I’m starting to put together some rather outlandish theories myself here that I’m kinda hoping you’ll thwart ASAP”.

Loki draws in a deep breath.

“That thing with Banner at the tower two years ago-“

“Fuck!” Tony exhales, exasperated. “I knew you were gonna say that”. He squints into the distance towards the ocean, his mouth a tight line. It’s a rare day that Tony Stark is caught under a clear blue sky without sunglasses but for once he doesn’t seem to notice.

Loki takes a step closer to him and lowers his voice so they won’t alert the others just yet.

“I told you then and you didn’t want to listen! Everything about Bruce’s story was off. I know he didn’t remember much after Steve took him down, but you all pretty much accused me of trying to get back at him for, well, you know what, and I kept telling you I thought someone had gotten to him! Now-“

Loki searches for the words. It’s beyond absurd.

“That man was a version of me, Tony. I have no idea how, but I felt it. I saw into his mind. It was filled with images from my past and then … other, recent memories. Dark ones. He came from nowhere. Literally. It didn’t feel like a place. I tried to discard it as a trick, you saw that, but…” Loki runs his hand through his moist hair. “Stephen obviously felt something tear open too. And that is not a good sign”.

He has Tony’s full attention.

“Tear open? Could this other you be associated with your old boss? With Thanos?”

Loki winces.

“No, I don’t think he’s involved”, he says sharply. “But I can’t be sure …”

Tony catches his tone pats his shoulder. “Okay, okay. Shake it off. Didn’t mean to suggest anything. Let’s say he’s not. I’d much prefer that, at least until the wizard presents us with an even uglier imminent threat to the universe. Which, judging by the fact that he’s even here, willingly sipping cocktails in your kitchen as we speak, he probably will”.

Tony throws his hands up with a dramatic air.

“And here I thought the most challenging part of this weekend would be to convince you two to come see Hamilton with us in the city next week!”

“Who’s-“

“Never mind. Did you get a look at that gadget your guy was holding? Boy, he looked like an office slave who’d slept under his desk for a month before getting fired, didn’t he? Were you ever into accounting yourself by any chance?”

Loki shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Immediately he sees the image of the double kissing Jane, his arms wrapped firmly around her supple body. Rage rushes right back through him and his eyes snap open.

“Stark - I can’t. But yes, I did notice the device. It looked like a phone”.

“Yeah, somehow I don’t think it was the new iPhone”.

Tony shakes his head.

“The two of us and we didn’t take him down. Fury’s gonna have our badges”.

//

The director of SHIELD and Bruce Banner arrive barely 15 minutes later through a portal in the middle of the meadow-like lawn, following Wong and both looking grim and out of place as they weave around patches of wildflowers to reach the porch.

“Gentlemen, I trust you’re well”. Loki greets the trio with an only vaguely sarcastic nod as he holds open the screen doors to them, like a good host. Despite what some may still think, he can behave.

He could have just used magic of course, but he figures Banner is freaked enough as it is just by being here. The scientist hasn’t spoken more than five words to him since 2014 and at least three of them were expletives.

Once inside the small living room, Bruce goes to stand by the window and busies himself polishing his glasses with a little too much vigor than seems warranted.

He avoids Loki’s eyes but looks up and smiles wearily as Jane comes over to say hello.

Fury leans against the doorframe to the hallway and crosses his arms, face a closed book, and, by the sound of it, Tony is going through the cabinets in the kitchen trying to find something to spice up Jane’s pre-dinner cocktails.

Pepper is talking to Strange and Wong on the blue IKEA couch (assembled by magic after the attempt to go at it “as a team” turned into a shouting match), and Loki is about to politely ask Strange to please spit it out right this minute, when Jane is next to him, taking his hand.

“We need to talk. Now”.

Her voice is low and steady but her eyes insisting. She squeezes his fingers.

He squeezes back. “Come”.

Loki looks to Fury but he’s focused on Strange who’s listening very closely to something Wong’s saying.

Not letting go of Jane’s hand, he turns towards the kitchen. In the doorway they pass Tony who’s now holding what appears to be a glass of scotch. He must have given up on the gin and tonics.

“Hey, where are you two going? Forget about playing hosts okay, let’s just get started with part two of the evening’s entertainment”.

“In a minute”.

Jane pushes past him, ignoring Tony’s look and dragging Loki with her.

She closes the door behind them.

“Okay, so…” Jane looks around nervously in the small kitchen with the rustic white fronts and old brass handles. She loves that kitchen. They haven’t changed a thing since moving in. Loki reaches for her, but she takes a step back. “Jane, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have gotten there faster. Did he …“

“I need you tell me exactly what he said to you”.

She is absentmindedly opening and closing her fists in the way she does when that brilliant astrophysicist mind of hers is working out an intricate problem in the lab.

Or, Loki knows, when she’s about to deliver him bad news.

He clears his throat. “He said he was me. And that something big was happening”. There. “And then he said he was sorry”.

Jane studies his face.

“That he was sorry? For what?”

“He didn’t say. He stepped through the door”.

Jane is quiet and now it’s Loki’s turn to try and read her expression.

“What did he say to you? I assume he pretended to be me …?”

Jane holds up a hand and bites her lip. Loki swallows.

“Loki, when we were staying at the flat in London, after we defeated Malekith…”

“What?” Loki furrows his brow in confusion. “Why are we-“

“The poison from the monster’s blade, it had you slipping in and out of consciousness for days. You were so feverish…”

“Yes, I know. I was there”. Loki’s blood is slowly turning very cold, but he musters a smile. “And you were amazing, love. Although some might say you took adv-“

Jane interrupts him in the middle of his blossoming smirk. A slight blush appears on her own cheeks.

“Yes, um, it’s not about that day”. She gives him a stern look. “The other day, later, when Thor left after you two went and had your, um, talk … there’s something I need to tell you …”

The door to the living room opens behind them.

“Actually, if you don’t mind, Doctor Foster, I would very much like to hear this too”.

Stephen Strange steps into the kitchen. The door closes behind him.

Part 6

[just-jordie-things]

#17 w/ sokka!! if you would like from your prompt list?

yes! my first atla prompt! lets goooo! got a lil carried away for a blurb tho

prompt 17: having to kiss to hide from the bad guys

___

How you and Sokka got separated from the others, you couldn’t quite remember.  It had all happened so fast, and you hadn’t been paying proper attention to what was going on.

One minute, you were browsing through a market in a more upper ring of Ba Sing Se, eagerly picking through a pail of strawberries to see if they were worth four whole silver pieces, and the next, Sokka was grabbing you by the arm and telling you to run.

It wasn’t until you’d run as far as your legs could carry you that Sokka had pulled the two of you into an alley that you could even ask.

“What... just happened..?” You asked, breathless, doubled over and trying not to heave as you panted.

Yes, you were very well trained in the arts of hand to hand combat, who learned from yours truly (Sokka, of course) but that didn’t mean you could break into a sprint for ten minutes out of nowhere!

“Fire Nation soldiers,” Sokka huffed, not sounding nearly as out of breath as he should have.  “I think they recognized Aang, they definitely spotted us”

“Well did they follow us?” You asked, suddenly bolting upright and peeking around the corner.  “There they are!”

Your eyes narrowed on the group of Fire Nation soldiers who were trying to casually sweep through the crowds of the busy market.  They stuck out like a sore thumb, but even in their poor attempts of blending in, the Earth Kingdom citizens didn’t seem to notice.

“We can take ‘em-”

“Woah there, tiger,” Sokka grabbed you by the arms and pulled you back into the hidden safety of the alley before you could do something reckless.  “Just let ‘em go, they won’t recognize us”

Sokka did this often, talked you down from jumping head first into a fight you probably could have won.

You pulled a face, but he wasn’t looking anyways.  His eyes were trained on the soldiers, tracking their every movement.

“If they won’t recognize us, then let’s just get going, we should find the others” You said matter-of factly, and again, made a move to leave the alley.

“We don’t know that!” Sokka hissed, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you back towards him again.

If you weren’t so annoyed that he was being unreasonable, you might have flustered from how close he’d brought you, or how firm his grip on your arm was.  And he wasn’t about to relent either, since he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t make a run for it.

“We don’t know that they won’t notice” You argued back, keeping your voice low as not to draw any attention to the two of you.

Being alone in an empty and dark alleyway was suspicious enough, you didn’t need anyone seeing the two of you fighting over here.

“Spirits, for once can you please just do things the safe way?” Sokka asked, sending a short glare your way.

He paused for a moment, and his features fell as his eyes looked you up and down, like he was suddenly aware of just how close the pair of you were.  You were backed into a wall, and he was all but caging you in.  You quirked a brow back at him, a little amused from the way he’d freezed up, and he cleared his throat before stepping back.

“No, do go on,” You prompted, your brows furrowing as you stood up straighter.

Sokka put his focus on the Fire Nation soldiers scouring through the crowd, and swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Tell me about how reckless and unsafe I am”

“Like I have to do that,” He scoffed.  “You’re well aware of the way you act”

“Way I act?” You repeated in mock offense.

“Yeah,” Sokka says, scoffing again, and looking back down at you.  “The whole cutthroat thing”

“Sokka, what in the world are you talking about?” You asked, your eyes narrowing as you tried not to smile at him.

But he was making eye contact and his eyes were so goddamn blue-

“Fifteen minutes ago we were strawberry shopping, what’s cutthroat about that?”

“Well- you’re- very particular about your strawberries”

You rolled your eyes at him, knowing his argument had failed.

But you kept to yourself, and turned to check on the soldiers.

They were definitely gaining on you, they were just a few feet away from the alley, and it was only a matter of time before you were caught.  Even if they didn’t recognize you and Sokka, you were still two suspicious looking teenagers hiding in an alley.

“They’re getting closer, we should hide,” You said, tugging on Sokka’s arm, trying to get him to follow you further down the alley.

His head swiveled between you and the guards, unsure.

“Maybe there’s a way out down this way,” You added, tugging a little harder.

You wanted him to give in to reason, but even if he didn’t follow you, you wouldn’t be able to leave him here.  Feelings aside, you could never abandon him.

“Sokka-”

“Fine, let’s go” He said.

You resisted the urge to sigh in relief as you both made a break for the end of the alley.  It was dark, not lit at all, and the canopies from the surrounding buildings blocked most of the sunlight from getting in.

Sokka remained close behind, one hand on his boomerang the whole time he followed you, just in case he could hear footsteps behind him.

But it was you who perked up to the sounds of heavy footsteps, and you froze in place, your hand seizing Sokka’s arms and also making him stop in his tracks.  He looked at you wildly, confused at first, but you put your finger to your lips and nodded in the direction of the way you’d just come from.

Sure enough, he could hear the group of men coming your way, in slow calculated steps.

“They’re trying to sneak up on us” You whispered, but you were mouthing the words more than speaking them.

“Follow me” Sokka mumbles back, and he takes your hand before swiftly continuing down the path.

Unfortunately, it leads you nowhere.

Well, technically, it leads you to a dead end.

“A wall!” Sokka hisses, gesturing to it as though you couldn’t see.  “We’re stuck here!”

You frown back at him, and then let go of his hand to reach up in an attempt to scale the wall.

Sokka rolls his eyes before smacking your hands.

“Hey!” You hiss, annoyed, but still trying to keep quiet.

“You’re not gonna be able to climb that, dumbass” He seethed back.

You huffed, defeated, and your worried eyes turned in the direction of the guards who were certainly gaining on you.  You couldn’t see them yet, but it was only a matter of time before they wised up and used their firebending to light their path and catch you.

“What now?” You mumbled, glancing around you in hopes you could find some place to hide, but there was nothing but brick around you.

What a perfect time to be a non-bender.

You couldn’t tell whether or not Sokka was scheming.  He had a look on his face, the one he got when he was concentrating really hard on something, but he wasn’t saying anything.

You figured you’d just have to fight your way out of this one and hope you’d emerge unscathed.

But then Sokka turned to you, his eyes lit up but his expression nervous.  Your own eyes widened, not exactly excited for whatever crazy idea he’d just thought of.

When his hands reach up to cradle your face- his touch gentle but still present- he was certain your own eyes couldn’t possibly get any wider.

The logical part of you wanted to smack him and ask him what the hell he thought he was doing.

But the rest of you was turning into putty in his hands.  Literally, as soon as he’d touched you it was like you’d began to melt-

“Do you trust me?” He asked, his eyes flickering between yours.

You nodded, without hesitation.

“With my life”

It all happened at once- or so you thought.

The Fire Nation soldiers’ steps grew heavier as they neared, surrounding you.

And Sokka’s lips crashed into yours.

You’d had a feeling it was coming, but it still made your breath hitch in your throat.  On instinct, your hands grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him into you with so much strength that your body was slammed into the brick behind you.  Both of you grunted from the force, but it didn’t slow either of you down.

Sokka was a good kisser, you thought, forgetting completely that you were kind of risking your life over a dumb camouflauge such as frisky teenagers.  

You’d known you’d had feelings for Sokka for quite some time now, but you hadn’t realized just how bad you had it for him until now.  Hell- you needed him.

You revelled in how soft his lips were- and wondered briefly if he’d been using chapstick- and how perfectly they molded into yours.  How it felt like he poured passion into every lengthy and heavy kiss he gave you.  You maybe even whimpered a little, returning his kisses with fervor and delight.

Just as one of your hands latched around the nape of his neck, fingers itching to reach up into his hair, the Fire Nation soldiers made their presence known.

A bright flame erupted before you, which broke you and Sokka apart as you turned to look at the men as innocently as you could.

All at once, the looks of pride on their faces fell, and you wanted to laugh at the way they grimaced, and some shielded their eyes after seeing a young lady in the arms of her lover, both you and Sokka looking very disheveled and very out of breath.

“Spirits! What in the world are you two doing back here?” The man in front- maybe he was a General, you didn’t know, you didn’t care- asked.  He sounded irritated, which wasn’t how a man who was about to arrest you usually sounded.  You felt you were in the clear.

“Uh, what does it look like?” You asked coyly, smirking and raising a brow.

Sokka’s face turned bright red, and the sight made you melt again.  Even if he’d only been kissing you for show, you could still make him blush.

“Some privacy, gentlemen?” You asked, far too casually in Sokka’s opinion.

He turned to you, giving you a pointed glare that screamed ‘don’t over-do it’, but you ignored it.

“Miss, you and your boyfriend shouldn’t be back here-” The possible Fire Nation General started to argue, but you cut him off, boldly.

“Is it a crime, sir?” You asked curiously.

Your hand loosened it’s grip on Sokka’s shirt, before smoothing over his chest.  You didn’t know it, but your palm left a trail of goosebumps in it’s wake.

A few of the soldiers shuffled backwards in an awkward fashion, only sticking around as they waited for their superior’s command.

“Could we get that privacy now, please?” You asked, adding a sweet lilt to your voice, only furthering this innocent facade you were going through with.

“It’s not safe for you to be alone in the dark” The man in charge spoke in warning, but soon turned to walk away.

Sokka’s jaw dropped as he watched the soldiers leave, before turning back to look at you.

“I can’t believe that just worked”

“It was your plan dummy,” You giggled, and wrapped both of your arms around his neck.

He reciprocated immediately, his hands finding your waist and drawing you in closer, making you grin.

“Now shut up and kiss me again,” You said quickly.  “It’s only a matter of time before the others find us too”

The Water Tribe boy didn’t need to be told twice, and he wasted no time in meeting you halfway and kissing you passionately. ___

xoxo ~ jordie

[jessikahathaway]

Vegas, Baby - Part I

Pairing: Kim Taehyung X Reader

Genre: Mafia!AU, Romance, Smut (Slow Burn)

Warnings: Explicit Language.

Summary: After four years, you have been let go from your job. Taking a chance you head to Vegas to make the best of a bad situation. A situation that only gets worse.

“Sorry Miss Y/N, but we are going to have to let you go,” your boss’ monotone voice echoed in your ears. 

Four years of your life, wasted. Not that you particularly enjoyed the job, but it paid your bills. And that was what counted at the end of the day. Now, what were you going to do? Your parents had already said your room was still yours if you needed to move back in. It was sweet of them really, but you didn’t want to move back in with them, you wanted your freedom and you wanted to be on your own. But what other options did you have without losing everything? 

“Your separation pay will come through at the end of the week,” your ears perked up. The separation pay would be a nice amount no doubt. This financial firm didn’t come without its perks. 

“Very good, sir. Thank you for four years,” you said, trying not to let the bitter tone enter into your voice. 

“You can show yourself out. See that your desk is cleaned out by the end of the shift,” he said, turning his back to you.

Quickly you let yourself out, heading toward your desk. 

“So, what did dickhead want?” Namjoon, your table mate, asked.

“I got canned,” you whispered, gathering up your stuff.

“What? No way, let me go in there,” he said, preparing to stand up before you stopped him.

“Joon, honestly, it’s fine. I’ve wanted to quit for a while anyways,” you confess.

“But, Y/N, it’s bullshit that they fire you. If that bimbo in the receptionist office can keep her job, you can too,” he said, fuming.

“Joon, seriously, I’m fine. Do you see me crying over it?” You asked, smiling.

“You’re sure you’re good?”

“I’m positive,” you answered.

“Okay, if you say so,” he responded.

“Just let me get my shit and blow this popsicle stand,” you said, grinning at him.

“Whatever you say, Y/N, I’ll miss you here,” he said, sitting back in his seat.

“You’re acting like you don’t have my number or something,” you said, laughing lightly.

“It won’t be the same without you here to annoy,” he said, giving you a dimpled smile.

“I know, you like to do that a lot,” you remarked, throwing a good natured glare his way.

“Well, I’m good at what I do then,” Namjoon stated.

“Which should be working, don’t need you following me out the door,” you said, sighing as you collected the remainder of your important items.

The rest could be left here, consider it a gift to the next unfortunate person who has to work here.

“Hey, text me okay?” He said, giving you a little wave.

“Will do, see ya Joon,” you said, returning the wave before heading towards the door.

—

Two weeks later you found yourself on a plane heading to Las Vegas.

How did you find yourself here? Well, it was a rather impulsive decision. But you and Namjoon had decided to take the rest of your earnings from your job and make a vacation out of it. You were taking a week in the US and spending time in Vegas to get a little wind in your sails before moving back in with your parents. 

Did that take what little wind you had in your sails out? Maybe, but that's besides the point. This was your way of giving the middle finger to your old job by blowing your money on something less than recommended. 

A trip to Vegas was exactly your soul needed after four years of behaving like a good little desk minion. Years of filing and coffee runs, all going to be blown to smithereens. Thank God for that too. You didn’t want to spend another minute thinking about what had been, only what was going to be the best week of your life. 

You had a couple friends that lived in the states, and you were going to meet up with them after landing and unpacking at your hotel. Jessi and Lily were waiting anxiously for you to arrive. 

Jessi: Bitch, I can’t believe you’re actually coming. After all these years of begging, pleading and what not, you’re dumbass comes here on a whim. But, still excited to see youuu xoxoxo.

YOU: R00D. I was working and busy with trying to further my career that capped off at a measly management position. Where the hell were you m8?

LILBITCH: Okay, it is like midnight here so can yall quit your yapping and do the sleep sleep? K thnx.

YOU: Sorry Lily, Jessi decided to be a boob in the group chat. Rest young one.

Jessi: ExCuSE? I Did NO SucH thInG?!?

YOU: You did! And are still doing it!

LILBITCH: Can yall argue in a separate thread plz?

Jessi: Nah, bugging you is wayyyy more entertaining.

LILBITCH: I pick the worst friends. Consider yourself disowned.

YOU: Children children, I come to bring peace to all four nations.

Jessi: The only thing you bring peace to is a party, and that’s what we’re going to fix while you’re here. You are going to get wasted and you are gonna like iiitttt >:(

LILBITCH: Jessi what are you even doing up?

Jessi: Sleep is for the weak.

LILBITCH: No, it’s for people. You know, who aren’t fucked in the head??

YOU: We gonna ignore the fact that she practically said I don’t know how to party?

Jessi: I am perfectly sane!

LILBITCH: Yeah right....

YOU: So we are ignoring that deep insult? K great. 

Jessi: Sorry Y/N, it’s just been so long since we’ve all been together like this I’m so excited. I’m gonna put you in my man stealing clothes and you’re gonna get dicked down while you’re here! Yasssss, I love my plan already.

YOU: THERE IS A CHILD IN HERE!

LILBITCH: Woman we’re both older than you. You’re the child. Who doesn’t know how to party apparently. 

YOU: And here I was thinking you loved me Lily. This hurts. This hurts deep.

Jessi: So, slutty clothes shopping here we come???

LILBITCH: I read the word shopping and I’m so down.

Jessi: yAS

YOU: Some of my dearest friends. Insult me then demand to dress me like a blowup doll? WTF??

Jessi: Not a blow up doll! Is there a tamer version of those Lily?

LILBITCH: I mean not really.

Jessi: You’ll be the sexiest blow up doll out there!

YOU: I don’t like this.

“Ladies and gentlemen we are beginning our ascent. Please silent all devices and buckle up! Thank you for choosing Korean Airways! Enjoy your flight!”

YOU: Well you two can think of more diabolical ways to get me laid and I will be none the wiser. See you girls soon. Love ya! <3

You shut your phone off and let your head rest against the cushioned seat. Letting the rumble of the cabin lull you to sleep.

--

“Y/N!!!!” Jessi squealed as she came running for you. 

You’d slept most of the plane ride, but now you were stiff in the joints and her frame colliding with your own sent the two of you tumbling. 

“Oof, Jess! What the hell man, you’re gonna break me,” you whined as the older woman started squeezing the daylights out of you. 

“Alright pda couple break it up,” Lily’s voice filled your ears. 

You stood quickly and brought her into a hug too. 

“It’s good to see you,” you whispered, rubbing her back as you separated.

“Good to see you too, have you lost weight?” she asked, making you spin around for confirmation.

“Maybe maybe not, I wasn’t exactly eating the healthiest diet when I was at the firm so, maybe I just gained it in different places,” you laughed. 

There was a prickle on the back of your neck. Your guard went up and you looked around. But didn’t see anyone staring. Although, you were uncomfortable.

“Come on, let’s get going. We have a lot to do before tonight!” Jessi said, practically dragging you out of the terminal.

“Jesus Jessi I have ligaments and bones, those things can break you know!” you whined, but she didn’t relent. 

Climbing into the car you still felt a chill of fear run up your spine. But didn’t let it bother you. Right now was about you and your friends, not being a little paranoid after a long flight. Plus, you were abroad, there were tons of people around and that was more than likely throwing your radar off a little bit. 

“Okay, mall here we come!” Lily said with excitement in her voice. 

“But what about heading to the hotel to unpack?” you asked. 

“Oh, we cancelled your reservation. Did you know you saved almost a thousand bucks if you stay with me?” Jessi said.

“Huh? What do you mean? Guys I don’t wanna burden you!” 

“You aren’t going to be, our most recent roommate has vacated the room and left it in perfect condition. It can be yours if you decide you wanna stay for a while?” Lily suggested with a brow wiggle.

“You two are impossible,” you complained, leaning your head against the window.

“Impossibly smart,” Jessi narked. 

You sighed as you watched the cityscape pass you by. Jessi and Lily chatted about nothing it seemed like, but it was comforting that you all fell back into rhythm so quickly after so long of not seeing one another. It made your heart squeeze painfully at the thought of being apart. But you were here now, and that’s what mattered. 

Lily was telling you all about her work at the little cafe she co-owns. She handles the customer service end while her partner handles the more... businessy aspect. 

“And then one of my servers swears she saw a ghost of an old lady in the back room. The building used to be a house but now we have renovated it and turned it into the cafe like I’ve told you. But, I looked into it. And a lady did actually die in there in the fifties. How fucking crazy is that!? And, get this, if it hadn’t happened within the last ten years, the realtors don’t have to divulge that information. How fucked,” Lily sighs. 

Jessi pulls into the parking lot of a large shopping center and you girls all get out, wallets at the ready. 

Linking arms with them you smiled brightly and started walking towards the door. 

About an hour later, your feet were killing you and you hadn’t even tried anything on, much to the dismay of your friends. 

“Come on Y/N, you need to at least try one thing on in this next shop,” Jessi pleaded. 

“Why? I packed clothes you know?” you said, 

“And knowing you they won’t be attention getting enough,” Lily commented.

“Rude, you don’t know what I got,” you scoffed. 

Lily rolled her eyes and picked you up off the comfortable bench you had settled down on and now you were being dragged off of it like a leech of an arm. 

“Come on Y/N, I have the perfect place in mind,” Jessi announced, leading the pack towards another stylish little boutique. 

“If I try something on will you guys quit pestering me?” you whined out. 

“Maybe, depends on if we like it or not,” Lily’s voice rang in your ear. 

Somewhere, deep down, you knew letting them drag you to a shopping mall was a bad idea. But you hadn’t realized how bad until they had you dressed to the gills in sequins, sparkles and everything glittery. 

“Guys this stuff is itchy!” you said, itching your thigh, that was barely covered, for emphasis. 

“Oh come on, Y/N, you look great! It really shows off those curves!” Jessi complimented, spinning you around.

“I brought the same style of dress, but in a popping red color. It will compliment her eyes for certain,” the lovely assistant of the boutique said. Of course they were trained to reach for the priciest piece they had, and tell you it would look good on you. But hey, A for effort. 

“Oooh! Y/N, try it on, try it on!” Jessi yelled. 

“Shh, we are in a store!” you scolded. 

“God you’re worse than my mom,” Jessi rolled her eyes.

“Am not. I’m just trying to contain my two four year olds!” you said exasperated.

“As the youngest isn’t it your responsibility to be rambunctious. Getting into all kinds of trouble?” 

“That’s what we’re here for Lily, she’s had a stick up her ass for too long called adulting,” Jessi teased.

“Remind me why I’m friends with you again?” you asked, teasing right back.

Jessi just laughed and went to go peruse the racks again. Lily snuggled up beside you and wrapped her arms around you tightly. 

“I missed you,” she whispered.

Smiling you gave her a tight hug. “I missed you guys too.”

Jessi came back with a sexy white number that has cut off sleeves that draped off your shoulder elegantly and it was a little longer than the others they’d thrown you in during that afternoon.

Seeing your eyes looking at the dress with interest, Jessi knew she had won. 

 “Wanna know the best part?” Jessi asked, raising a perfectly sculpted brow in your direction.

“What?” you asked. 

“It was on the sale rack!” she smirked. 

“Okay give it here,” you said, holding your hand out. Jessi smiled and plopped the dress in your hand without hesitation. 

You shuffled into the dressing room and pulled the garment on. You looked at yourself in the mirror and almost fell over. This wasn’t you. The girl looking back at you was a beautiful woman, someone with poise and elegance. Or was that what the dress conveyed? Because you felt almost empowered in this dress...

“Okay, show us what you got!” the girls said, waiting for you outside the dressing room.

Stepping down onto the floor the girls were silent. 

“Well?” you asked, feeling a little self conscious at all their staring. 

“Y/N, if you don’t buy that dress then I will and force you into it tonight,” Jessi said, still staring.

“Does it look alright?’ you asked, tugging at the fabric.

“Yes now quit fidgeting! We’re trying to figure out what shoes, make up and hair we need to do,” Lily said, settling your hands at your side. 

“I think a red pump,” Jessi said, running off to one side of the store.

“And a red lip to match!” Lily echoed. 

“I love the way you think,” Jessi said back.

You looked down at your bare feet on the floor and sighed. 

“I don’t know, should we go clubbing tonight? I just got here and kinda want to-”

“Not bail out on us and have the fun you wanted to have by coming to Vegas?” Lily offered. 

You sighed and rubbed your face. Jessi came back with a crimson red pair of heels that already made your feet hurt. But you decided to quiet down and just enjoy the time you had with your friends. It was so nice to bicker with them and laugh, it really made your heart soar to be here with them. Even if they were forcing you into some uncomfortable shoes. At their cores, they were great girls, and you were so lucky to have them in your life. 

“There, see how it lengthens your legs?” Jessi pointed out. 

“See how it will destroy my ankles?” you said back.

They just laughed and you guys took everything to the checkout counter. The clerk cashed you out and you ladies were on your way. 

“I’m so glad you bought the shoes too! They look so killer with that dress, and we’re going to make you the prettiest thing at the club tonight! Not that you need much help,” Lily smirked, linking her arms with yours.

You shoved her a little but walked down the hall with her happily.

Until you felt that chill that had run down your spine earlier, reappear. You stopped in your tracks and turned, certain that someone was watching you. But no one was there... It made unease churn in your stomach. Jessi seemed to notice your hesitation and came over beside you. 

“Something wrong?” she asked, trying to look in a similar direction as you.

“No no, it’s nothing. I’m fine,” you smiled weakly, going to move forward.

“If you’re sure,” Lily answered, following close behind.

“Yeah,” you confirmed.

After that you only went to one more department store and found nothing of interest, so you guys decided to call it. Walking back to the car, Jessi ran ahead to make sure that it was unlocked. Lily and you walked at an even pace, just enjoying each other's company.

Loading everything into the car you took off down the road for Jessi and Lily’s house.

Slowly, the sensation of being watched faded from your mind. And the three of you went back to your bickering and teasing. 

Finally, you pulled into the driveway. 

Jessi and Lily were quick to help you with your luggage, making sure everything got into the spare bedroom. And then, the work began. 

“Babe, we love you, but you gotta take a shower,” Jessi said, pinching her nose for effect.

“Rude, I literally took a shower before I boarded the plane,” you told them.

“Yeah, and you smell like plane and food court, so go. Cleanse thyself,” Lily commented, looking at her phone.

“Fine fine,” you agreed, heading towards the bathroom. 

Jessi handed you the dress and some undergarments and went into the kitchen. 

The hot water felt heavenly on your body, washing off the grim of travel and shopping. It was nice. The foamy soap on your head invigorating you. You shaved every part of your body known to man, and woman to be honest. 

But when you stepped out of the shower. Instead of the normal underwear you had picked out, was something else. 

Sorry, but we had to burn those granny panties. Wear this instead! We bought them today while you were busy being one with the bench. We know they’ll fit you!

Jessi & Lily

“Those little shits!” you exclaimed, looking down in despair at your underwear option now. 

Pink lacy panties were set on the bathroom counter. How did you not even hear them come in!? You looked at the bra and were certain that you’d be able to see a nipple through the lace that was supposed to be covering your shit. But apparently the quest to get you laid was a serious endeavor in their minds. So, to humor them, you put on the garments. That, in fact, fit perfectly.

“Those creeps,” you shuddered, wondering how your friends had known your exact size.

Pulling on the dress you bought earlier, you marveled at yourself in the mirror. You looked really good. And just as before, you felt as if you could conquer the world, in just this dress. But, you knew the only thing you’d conquer was maybe a bar scene, which would work. For now.

Walking out you found the nasty culprits of the underwear heist sitting around a vanity full of makeup.

“Wanna tell me why I’m wearing underwear that barely covers anything?” you said, venom in your tone.

“Because you put it on,” Jessi said, with a smirk.

“You guys are so fucking nosy,” you whined, throwing your headback in a mock tantrum.

“We aren’t nosy enough, when was the last time you got dicked down?” Jessi asked, suddenly serious.

Scandalized you made a squeak of discomfort. 

“Wh-Why the sudden curiosity??” you asked.

“Because, we gotta know how out of practice you are,” Lily said, as if it were obvious.

“I’m not out of practice!” you shrieked. 

“So it was recently then?” Jessi smiled. 

“No! I mean-shut up!” you cried.

“When was the last time Y/N,” Lily said calmly.

“Three years ago,” you huffed, crossing your arms in defense.

The two girls almost choked. 

“THREE YEARS!?” Jessi screamed.

“I’m right here, there’s no need to scream,” you said.

“BUT Y/N, THAT’S THREE YEARS,” Jessi yelled again.

“I can tell time, Jessi,” you commented.

“How? You’re practically a nun,” Lily snorted.

“I am not!” you defended.

“Sweetheart, listen we are doing this out of love,” Jessi shushed you, cradling you to her chest. “We will help you. Sit down.”

“This is all very offensive, just so ya’ll know,” you said, pointing to them with an accusing finger.

“Shut up and sit down,” Lily said, grabbing her hair appliances. 

You settled into silence, letting the girls do whatever they wanted to you. You found it was easier this way than fighting with them the whole time. As much as you loved them, these girls were bossy and pushy. But, you wouldn’t have them any other way. They helped even you out, making sure you got out there and did have some fun in your life. 

Lily was in the process of doing your hair and styling it the way she thought would work the best, while Jessi was deeply focused on doing your makeup. You saw the crimson colored lipstick come out and knew it was as Lily recommended earlier.

Jessi painted it on your lips with a precision that was awe inspiring. You just stayed still and let them continue their work. Enjoying the transformation happening before your eyes. Before, you were a nervous little office worker. Now, you were a girl on a mission. What mission was still to be decided, but it made you feel powerful. Not saying that you didn’t feel powerful without it, but it was nice to get dressed up every once in a while and to feel sexy. 

Lily put down the hair products and smiled at her work. 

“You look fucking hot,” she pointed out. 

“Don’t make her smile. I'm working on the concealer around her lips,” Jessi whined.

“Sorry sorry, just, she’s really beautiful,” Lily smiled. 

“We been knew,” Jessi smirked. 

“Right right,” Lily said, going to gather the tights and shoes.

“Thanks Jessi,” you said as you stood up, stretching lightly.

You felt a light smack to your butt and you smiled back at her. 

“Sorry, couldn’t resist,” she giggled. 

“Alright ladies, we need to make a game plan for the night!” Lily announced as she walked back into the room.

“What do you mean?” you asked, raising a brow at her. 

“Who wants to get laid, who wants to wing woman and who wants to be the sober one,” Lily said.

“Well, Y/N is the getting laid one,” Jessi confirmed.

“Did you ask Y/N if she wants to get laid?” you asked, pointing to yourself.

“Fine, Y/N, do you not want me to find you a fine specimen of man that could knock your socks off in the bedroom?” Jessi said.

“Well... I mean, it’s not that I don’t want that but...”

“But what?” Lily asked, coming to sit next to Jessi.

“I’m shy, I don’t really attract people. I’m more of a hang out in the corner until I’m drunk enough to approach someone type of gal,” you said, biting your lip.

“Don’t ruin my hard work,” Jessi warned. 

“Sorry, nervous habit,” you answered, stopping the action quickly.

“Y/N, it’s all up to you, we don’t really have to go out but I thought this is what you came here for? To let loose and have some fun before moving back with your parents. But if all you wanna do is have a girls week then we can do that too... But, honestly you look amazing and any guy would be lucky to get with you,” Lily said. 

You thought it over. 

This is what you came here for. To let loose like she said. But now that it was happening you were retreating into office worker Y/N, not the badass you wanted to be for at least a week. So, you didn’t see the harm in getting laid. Honestly, it might get some of the pent up stress out of your system, and that sounded great.

“No, you guys are right. I wanted to come here to be free for a while. What’s the point in hiding in the corner when I can be the center of attention for once in my life. I say, let’s do it,” you said, confident.

Jessi squealed excitedly and clapped her hands. 

“Yes! We are gonna be the best wingwomen you’ve ever seen Y/N! We’ll pick a great one out for you,” she said.

“She also has eyes, Jessi, she might find the one,” Lily chastised. 

“Yes, yes sorry,” she said, shuffling through her closet in disinterest.

“Okay, so Jessi and I are both going to be wingwoman. It’ll be a shared effort so we can pick the best guy,” Lily announced. 

“Right,” you said. 

“But like Lily said, you have eyes. If you find someone you’re vibing with, let us know!” Jessi said back. 

“Okay,” you agreed.

The rest of the evening was spent making out rules and exchanging safety measures to make sure no one got hurt or left behind.

This was going to be very fun.

[acciomalfoy]

What a beautiful wedding (Fred Weasley x Reader)

Summary: While attending Bill and Fleur’s reception, certain secrets are forced to be revealed.

-

“Isn’t she beautiful?” I whispered in awe as I watched Fleur, the absolute goddess, walk down the aisle. She was breathtaking, and if she wasn’t about to get married maybe I could’ve convinced her to marry me. Fred nudged me.

“Come on, L/n. Don’t tell me you’re the type to go soft over a wedding.” I ignored him in favour of smiling at Fleur, who beamed back.

Fred was on one side of me with George on the other, and bridesmaids and groomsmen were scattered across in front of the guests, while Fleur eventually reached the front. Charlie hastily pulled out her ring and presented it to Bill, who looked like he was on the verge of tears. I would have been too, with a bride like that.

“Be honest. Do you think I could seduce Fleur and convince her to elope with me?” I whispered, and George coughed to disguise his laughter.

“I think you could do anything.” Fred whispered back, and the vows began.

“With this hand I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way into darkness. With this ring I ask you to be mine.” At this point I was seriously beginning to question my sexuality. That was, until I saw the smile on Fred’s face. Then Bill said his vows.

“It was a million tiny little things that, when you added them all up, they meant we were truly supposed to be together, and I knew it. I knew it the very first time I touched you. It was like coming home, only to no home I’d ever known. I was just taking your hand to help you out of a carriage and I knew. It was the most pure form of magic that I’ve ever known.” Everyone, every single witch and wizard in attendance cooed, the witches tearing up and the wizards focussing on doing just the opposite.

“You may now kiss the witch.” The officiant said, and Bill did just that. We began cheering and screaming, and there wasn’t a couple quite as beautiful as this one.

The bridesmaids and groomsmen followed the newlyweds in a seperate carriage, and as I was squished between Ginny and George, I realised that life possibly couldn’t get any better. Ginny kept looking meaningfully between George and I, making me laugh harder and harder each time. She couldn’t have gotten it more wrong.

“I see you flirting.” She whispered in my ear, and I sniggered, patting George on the head.

“I don’t think so, Gin.” She narrowed her eyes and looked pointedly away, and that was just fine by me. Soon enough we reached the reception, Fred falling into step beside me.

“So, my dear Y/n. Were you ever planning on telling me that you want to snog my brothers tonsils out?” I shrieked with laughter, and Fred scowled.

“I’d sooner play tonsil hockey with Malfoy!” I cried out, and George punched my shoulder.

“Bloody tosser.” He mumbled, but his smile afterwards showed me there was no hard feelings.  

When we walked into the tent the sheer size of it shocked me; but then again, there were quite a lot of guests coming to reception that weren’t at the ceremony. Shortly everyone had arrived, and after introducing the bride and groom we took out seats. It was almost instantaneous - as soon as everyone was seated small pieces of paper appeared in front of each person. It seemed to be a checklist.

Find someone who’s patronus is an otter.

Find someone who’s painted their fingernails green.

Find someone who’s older than eighty.

Find someone who took more than four minutes to be sorted into their school house.

Find someone who was retrieved in the triwizards tournament.

Convince someone to confess to their soulmate and the spell they created.

I almost dropped the paper when I saw the last one. A soulmate spell? Those were incredibly tricky to cast, let alone invent.

“Fred! What’d you get?” We compared lists, and he laughed at mine.

“Look, one of yours has already been ticked off!” He said, and I got a horrible flashback to the tri-wizards tournament. Lucky Cedric had saved me relatively quickly, since my claustrophobia had already begun to set in.

“I wonder where Ced’s sitting.” I pondered, and George made a face.

“Why? You don’t like him, do you?” He asked, and I shrugged.

“No, not really. He’s fucking gorgeous, you’d have to be blind to not notice that, but I think he’s gay.” I whispered the last part, just in case the older brunette was somewhere behind me.

“I have to say, I agree.” Fred said gravely, and George rolled his eyes.

“Sometimes I think you’re gay, you dickhead.” Fred clutched his heart and I laughed at the twins - they really were the best.

“Anyway, Bill said that each list is charmed to cater to the person. So the answers to your list are the people you have the most in common with. Apparently you can’t leave until you’ve checked everything off AND you’ve checked what you can for other people. Take Hermione, for instance. She’s obviously the only one with an otter, so she can’t leave until she talks to everyone with that challenge.”

“I think I need a drink.” Fred said, and I agreed.

The night didn’t exactly fly by. Those with difficult lists were all too aware of how long it was taking them, and the only challenge I had left was the last one. I was on the verge of tears, and a drunken Fred was too. I didn’t know what challenge he had left, but the issue still remained. We were stuck here. There was maybe twenty people left, and the groom was one of them.

“Don’t fucking talk to me. I’m ready to throttle my lovely wife for the idea.” Bill warned as I approached him, and I groaned.

“Bill, I just want to go to bed! I’m begging you!” Bill only shook his head.

“I have absolutely zero power over it. I think a divorce is on the cards.” I brightened up at that, until I realised I would be stuck at the reception for the rest of life and wouldn’t be able to elope with the bride.

“What’s yours anyway?” I finally asked, and Bill glared at me.

“Watch someone fall in love. I know. Seriously, even if one person falls in love I have to fucking find them just before they do.” I had a good laugh at that. Bill seemed to be in a slightly worse position than I was, even though I was still fucked. I decided to take action, and stood on a chair before clinking a glass.

“Attention, ladies and gentlemen. If you or someone you know has invented a soulmate tracker spell then please, I beg you, hit me the fuck up and we can have a talk.” I stepped down and almost stumbled. Maybe I shouldn’t have done those fire-whisky shots. When in Rome, however. Mental note: you absolutely cannot keep up with Charlie Weasley when it comes to alcohol. I made my way over to Bill, who had placed an incredibly drunk Fred into a chair and was patting his head. It would have been nice if it wasn’t just weird.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” I said breezily, and Fred grabbed my hand.

“Of course you’re not, sweet cheeks.” Godric Gryffindor, I tried not to blush. I knew he was only saying it because he was drunk, and because he didn’t have a filter, but it still made me smile.

“Control your brother, Bill. Oh! Cedric’s still here!” I let go of Fred’s hand and tried to walk away, but to my dismay Fred yanked me backwards and pulled me onto his lap.

“Look’s like he’s your problem now.” Bill said. “I’ll go see how Cedric’s doing, shall I?” Bill was off without another word, and Fred pulled me even closer.

“Why do you like Cedric so much?” He murmured into my ear, and I involuntarily shivered.

“He’s my best friend, you oaf. Now let me go!” I struggled against his grip, but I just couldn’t escape.

“I thought I was your best friend.” He said, and I gave up trying.

“You are. I can have more than best friend, you realise that right?” Fred shook his head.

“No you can’t. I’m not letting you go until you say I’m your bestest friend ever.” He clutched me tighter than ever, and I tried in vain to get Bill’s attention.

“You’re a child. An actual child, Fred.” When there was no response, I sighed. “Fine. You’re my bestest friend ever.” I said, and Fred cheered, letting go of me. I stood up quickly, and Bill came back with Cedric in tow.

“Look who’s left. How are ya, Fred?” Cedric sat besides Fred, and I leaned on Bill’s shoulder.

“Fucking hell, I might fall asleep standing up.” I murmured, and Bill patted my head in a similar manner to what he had done to Fred.

“I’ll join you. Who do you reckon’s the most likely person to fall in love out of everyone in this room?” Bill asked, and I snorted.

“It’s got to be your grandma, doesn’t it?“ Bill scoffed and rolled his eyes at my laughter.

“Har har. You’re so funny, Y/n. I might just die of laughter.” He said, and I let my gaze wander around the room. I wondered who was going to fall in love tonight.

“Ced! What do you have left?” I asked, and Cedric looked up.

“I’ve got fall in love. I know, and there’s no way it’s with Grandma Weasley, I can tell you that.” He said, and I laughed. A lot. I clutched my stomach as I laughed, and really, it wasn’t even that funny. It was just the thought of Grandma Weasley walking down the aisle to meet Cedric took me out completely. With a soft pop, I watched Cedric and Bill disappear.

“What just happened?” Fred asked slowly, and I wasn’t in the state of mind to know.

“They popped. They’re going to bed now, maybe we should too. We can sleep on the floor.” I sat down on the floor and it was horribly uncomfortable.

“What do you have left?” I asked with a yawn, and Fred sighed heavily.

“I’ve done my challenges.” He said, and I remembered he was the key to someone else’s puzzle.

“That sucks then. Maybe you should try and talk to people and figure out what it is.” I said, and he looked at me sadly.

“I know what it is.” The silence stretched out for a long time.

“Well?” I asked, and he laughed without a trace of humour.

“You really don’t know?” He questioned, and I shook my head.

“Unfortunately my dear, I’m the answer to yours.” I blinked slowly. My crush and best friend of five years had invented a soulmate spell and hadn’t thought to tell me.

“Fred, come on. Just confess to her and we can leave this prison.” I pleaded with him, but the man was being unreasonable.

“Absolutely not. We can live here for the rest of our lives.” Fred smiled award winningly, and I found that I couldn’t smile back.

“At least tell me who she is. Maybe I can try and see if she likes you.” I fiddled with the hem of my dress, and it was hard to look Fred in the eye knowing he belonged to someone else.

“I don’t think so, pretty girl. I don’t think she will be too thrilled to see who she’s mated to.” Fred confessed, and I rolled my eyes.

“Any girl with a heartbeat would kill to be soulmates with you, Fred. Why can’t you see that?”

“Any girl?” He whispered.

“Any girl.” I confirmed. Fred took a deep breath.

“You’re my soulmate.” Fred said eventually, and before I could blink we were standing in the burrow.

I looked at Fred, his brown eyes ever beautiful, and made a split-second decision. I flung myself into his arms, and he caught me with ease.

“You’re a tosser,” I murmured into his ear. “-You should have told me as soon as you knew.” I hugged him tightly, and his grip on me tightened.

“I didn’t know how you’d react.” He confessed, and I pulled my head off his shoulder. Godric, he was beautiful.

“Still.” I leaned in and our lips met, moving in perfect sync. His hair was softer than what I had always thought it would be, and it was perfect.