#and them realizing the gravity of it fully feeling what he is and being nervous but grateful for the trust he extends

[devotion-between-the-wheat]

thinking about the idea of m◇rpheus including my si in his creating in the dreaming, especially when it's pre relationship days. and just thinking about the trust and intimacy it entails.

[azrielslittleslut]

Tarquin x Fem!Reader

Period Sex/Praise/Romantic Sex

Warnings: smut, p in v, mention of blood, period sex, NSFW, praise

Word Count: 1.8k

a/n: this is my humble petition for more Tarquin fics.

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

The Summer Court was truly beautiful, with its sandy beaches and endless blue water. You longed to be out there amongst the sea of people, wading through the warmth of the ocean. You wanted to feel the sea spray on your face and the feeling of the sand between your toes. You wanted to feel the sun, warming your skin and body in only the way the sun here could.

Instead, you were curled up on the bed in the fetal position, your hands clutching your stomach as wave after wave of sharp pain shot through your abdomen.

You had been having your bi-annual cycles for centuries now, but they never got easier. You had tried everything- teas, herbs, magical medicines- but nothing had ever worked, other than being knocked unconscious by one of the healers. The best way to deal with them, you had learned, was to just lie in bed and try not to die as your cycle ran its course.

You were so distracted by the pain that you barely heard the door to your bedroom open, followed by the calming scent of a sea breeze mixed with jasmine. "My love?" Tarquin asked, his voice soft. "How are you feeling?"

You groaned in response, the pain too great for you to form words. Why did being a female have to hurt so much?

Tarquin gently sat down on the bed, careful not to move you around too much. His handsome face was twisted in concern as he looked down at you, his turquoise eyes full of anxiety. "Is there anything I can do?" He placed a warm hand on your lower belly as he spoke, his touch a comfort.

You mastered yourself enough to say, "I think it would hurt less if you were to take a dagger and shove it through my uterus. Perhaps you could try that?" Your voice was hoarse as you spoke, thanks to hours spent groaning in pain. "Just put me out of misery, Quinny."

Despite the gravity of your words, Tarquin smiled at the sound of your nickname for him. The two of you have been lovers for years now, but that name always eased something in his chest. "I would never do that, sweetheart. I'm sorry you're in so much pain." He paused for a moment. "I was talking to a healer earlier, about how bad you're cycles are."

You looked up at him with blurry vision. He was wearing his crown, you realized, the sapphire and white gold looking like waves on top of his white hair. "What did they say?" you asked, though you assumed they had not told him anything you didn't already know.

"They gave me a way to help you... if you are willing, of course." There was something darker in his voice, almost like nervousness. But that would be insane- Tarquin was never nervous around you.

You sighed, rolling over onto your side to face him fully. "I've tried everything. Nothing has worked for centuries, so I don't think anything they would suggest would help." You grabbed the hand that was still on your stomach, your fingers lacing with his. "Thank you for trying though, love. That means the world to me."

Tarquin shook his head, and you swore you could see his dark skin blush. "No," he murmured, leaning down so his face was mere inches from yours. His bright eyes had darkened to the color of the deep sea, a color you only saw when he was writhing in pleasure. "Have you ever tried... having sex?"

For a few moments, you could only blink as you processed his words. Did he really want you when you were... like this? Did he not find you disgusting?

Tarquin must have sensed where your thoughts had gone because he leaned forward and placed a palm on your cheek. "You are beautiful in every way, my darling. You are perfect, and I would never find anything about you disgusting." He paused for a moment, his expression softening. "Forgive me for saying anything. I only want to make you feel better. I hate seeing you in pain."

Your eyes filled with tears at the tenderness of his words. You had thought about making love with him during your cycle before. Especially since you seemed to be more sensitive and needy during it, but you had never dared to bring it up to him. But now...

"Tarquin," you whispered, moving your body up to reach for him. "I need you. Please." The pain you felt in your belly was nothing compared to your growing desire, and all you wanted was him.

Tarquin chuckled softly as he moved over you, pressing you down onto the bed. "There's no need to beg, love. I will make you feel so very good." He began to kiss down your neck, moving his hands down to the hem of your nightdress.

As he began to raise it up, you froze, suddenly aware of what he would see when it was removed. "Quinny," you breathed. "Maybe we should do this in the bath? I don't want it to be messy."

His brows furrowed for a moment as he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. You gasped as you felt a warm fabric appear under your body, the softness of it against your thighs. You glanced down and smiled to yourself as you saw a towel beneath you.

"Always one step ahead, are you?" you asked with a giggle, reaching up to pull him back down to you.

Tarquin's lips were warm and soft against yours as he kissed you gently. "I'm nothing if not prepared."

The kisses deepened, and soon the room was filled with the sound of your soft moans. He kissed down your neck, leaving love bites and hickeys along your sensitive flesh. You were so caught up in his lips on you that you didn't flinch when he raised your nightgown, exposing you to the air.

"Lift for me," he whispered against your skin. You obeyed him, staying silent as he gently removed the clothing from your body. Your nipples hardened from the chill in the air, but Tarquin wasted no time in putting his mouth on them.

He expertly licked and flicked your nipples, switching back and forth between your breasts, giving them equal amounts of attention. "Feels so good," you moaned as you threw your head back against the pillows.

Tarquin hummed as he deftly started undoing the ties that held his tunic together. You bit your lip as the beautiful skin of his chest was revealed, filled with muscles and scars. You roamed your hands over his body, digging your nails into his skin, not caring if you left marks.

He paused as he looked down to your pussy, and you felt your cheeks heat under his gaze. "So beautiful," he murmured, his eyes full of love. "Every part of you is beautiful."

"Thank you," you said quietly. He always had a way of making you feel so loved and seen, no matter the circumstance. You were overwhelmed with so much love and adoration for this male, and you thanked all the gods for him.

Tarquin pulled back just enough to remove his pants, his eyes on your face. "Do you want me to touch you?"

You thought for a moment. He normally took his time teasing you and drawing out your pleasure, but that was not what you wanted now. "No," you responded finally. "I just want your cock inside of me."

He smiled as he freed his hard length from his trousers, and you licked your lips as his thigh muscles flexed as he removed the rest of his pants. "I love it when you tell me what you want. So bold for me."

You welcomed him in your arms as he once again hovered over you, his face inches from yours. Slowly, he pushed in, and you gasped as your walls stretched to accommodate him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he began to slowly thrust into you.

"You feel so good, my love," he moaned into your neck. "You were made for me."

Your back arched as he rolled his hips, hitting that deep spot inside of you that had your vision go white. You were normally sensitive, but this felt way better than usual. You had always heard that females were more sensitive during their cycles, but you had never thought it to be true.

Damn were you wrong.

Every thrust of his hips had loud moans escaping your lips. "Yes, yes, yes," you moaned as he kissed you and ran his hands lovingly along your body. He worshipped you with his cock, his body, with every part of him.

"Can you come for me, baby?" Tarquin asked, his hips pounding into you harder. He reached down and started to gently rub your clit with his thumb, but it was enough to send you over the edge.

A ragged gasp escaped your lips as you came, your eyes rolling back into your head. "Tarq-" you tried to say his name, but your body was overtaken with wave after wave of pleasure.

Tarquin smiled as he kissed you, swallowing your moans. "That's my good girl," he praised, his voice low. After a few more powerful thrusts, he came and you sighed as you felt his warmth fill you.

For a few moments, the two of you just stared at each other with lazy smiles on your face, basking in the afterglow of your joining. It was always like this with him, always full of tenderness and care.

He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

You ran your hands over his shoulders, breathing in his scent. "I feel better," you admitted. It was true- the near mind-bending pain from earlier had subsided to a dull ache. Why hadn't the healers suggested this centuries ago? "Thank you, Quinny."

Tarquin chuckled as he pulled out of you, settling himself on his knees. He looked down, and you followed his gaze to the ruined towel on the bed.

You winced. He had helped you clean up during your cycles before, but it was always slightly embarrassing. You fought the urge to look at his softening cock, knowing it would be covered in blood. "I feel gross now."

In a swift movement, Tarquin hauled you up in his arms, and you distantly heard the sound of the bath water running. "Let's get you cleaned up, hmm?" he said cheerfully, his face full of warmth.

You smiled as you leaned your head against his chest. "Always so good to me," you murmured. "Do you think you would be up for round two in the bath? There won't be a mess-."

You even weren't able to finish your sentence before Tarquin sprinted to the bathroom.

general tag list: @quiet-loser @andreperez11 @lilah-asteria

@anarchiii @inkedinshadows @book-obsessed124

@scorpioriesling @olive-main @scarsandallaz

Kinktober tag list: @littlest-w01f @fourthwing4ever

@huff-le-puff-puff-pass @halo-hanging @velarisnightsky444

[josephquinnswhore]

Hello

I’ve had this idea for a while :}

What if reader and Pedro had a la la land moment when they break up and then reunir two years later at an awards show and realize they still have feelings for each other

Like right person wrong time :>

Finding Our Way Back - pedro pascal x female reader

Summary: you and Pedro rekindle your relationship after seeing him at an award show, it’s been two years since you’ve separated and he looks better than ever.

Word Count: 3.7k

Content Warning: allusions to reader that worked in a shit workplace, fluff.

Note: thanks so much for requesting. Thought I’d do the MTV awards since he’s nominated and I’ve already written about Pedro at the Oscars! I hope you love it 🫶🏼

As an interviewer for Vanity Fair, you knew it was highly likely that you’d run into your ex boyfriend, Pedro Pascal at the MTV awards as he was nominated with Bella Ramsay in the category “best duo,” after his latest role as Joel Miller. Although things had ended amicably on both ends, it had been two years ago since you split; your maturity, respect and the love you still had for him played a part in that clean break. You wanted to beg for him to stay with you, to try and make things work; but he was having a big breakthrough in his career and you couldn’t be selfish with him, after decades of his hard work to get to where he is now, so you let go. After years of smaller roles, despite you reassuring him he was incredible in all roles he played, he knew this one would change his life, working on a project with his idol Nick Cage.

Funnily enough, being in this situation was how you met. You standing at an event in a dress that was too tight and itchy on your skin, waiting to interview the nominees for this award show. Although all those years ago you didn’t work for such a well known, respected company as VF.

You worked for a small company called For You Entertainment, they were working their way up the ladder attending small events with D-List celebrities when your producer thankfully got you a breakthrough, an interview with the cast of Narcos at the end of season 2 premiere. You were nervous and fidgeting with your lilac sequin dress that was so tight you were cursing your stylist internally for making you wear clothing that was a size too small for your waist. Your lungs felt heavy as they couldn’t inhale fully, the feeling of being claustrophobic in your own skin was dizzying, along with the sweatiness of your hands and the bright light from your film crew, it was all too much. A staff member from the event, led Pedro to you and you knew you were screwed, the knowing look in those chocolate brown eyes, he knew how anxious you were feeling, he read you instantly. Your co-workers were ready to begin filming when Pedro held his hand up, signalling for the men to stop momentarily, and they did.

“Hey, I’m Pedro. It’s so nice to meet you…”

His hand meets your own as you introduce yourself, he catches the wobble in your voice as your confidence plummets to the ground beneath your heels. He offers a kind smile and you’re enamoured by how kind he’s being, how gentle and attentive he is; he was doing whatever he could to make you comfortable.

“Are you okay?”

You let out a shaky breath and huff out a small laugh,

“this is my first ever interview with like, a real celebrity and you’re my celebrity crush. Plus this dress is a size too small which they picked on purpose, something about making my boobs perkier.”

The speed at which your mouth rambles leaves your brain unable to comprehend the words that leave them for a few seconds, the moment you register what you say your eyes are wide and Pedro is laughing sweetly.

“It’s a pleasure to be here with you, don’t be nervous, I think you look stunning. You can do this, I’m here to help you make things go smoothly! Shall we?”

How wrong he was, he wasn’t just like any other guy, that’s what drew you in, he sucked you into his orbit, the gravity holding you down to him. Alas, you agree to start the interview. Your nerves somewhat shaken and cheeks a deep shade of red, along with a tingle of heat on your face you’d never experienced prior to Pedro’s flattery.

“Let’s do this.”

You bare a shy grin and give the camera man a thumbs up as they prepare to start the interview.

There was nothing wrong with your relationship with Pedro. It had just seemed like the relationship had run it’s course through the years. You were studying and working full time, 60 hours a week you were in a chokehold of being underpaid and overworked, being younger, new to the industry and vulnerable, you let your boss expose you to the cruelty of the profession when you had several employees that treated you like a doormat. Pedro had always insisted he hated how much you worked for them; how terribly they treated you and crushed your potential within months, that you could achieve more.

Pedro has just gotten a main role in “the unbearable weight of massive talent” when things fell apart, he was incredibly hard working and committed to his work life, the man that was practically married to his career left you in a position of what felt like roommates more than actual lovers. The conversation was hard and you almost didn’t go through with it; you knew you’d regret it but it was necessary, you couldn’t live like this anymore. You missed the intimacy and the connection, feeling like you were in a loveless relationship even though you loved him endlessly.

He had gotten home from a long day of filming, body slumped as he walked through the door, hours and hours on end of filming had him exhausted, he was surprised to see you sitting on the couch with the light and tv on when he walked through the front door.

“Hey, you’re up?”

The confusion in his voice was evident and you inhaled a shaky breath, turning to face him, you nearly backed out of your plan like a coward. Instead you invite him to sit next to you.

“Yeah, we need to talk, will you come sit?”

Pedro’s thick eyebrows are pinched in a frown, looking his age when the wrinkles in his face become evident. The lounge dips as he sits next to you, his large hand on your knee as his brown eyes watch you.

“Is everything okay?”

His voice is cautious and you just exhale, not questioning your own judgment.

“I think it would be in both our favours if we part ways, I’d prefer if we could do this amicably and still be friends afterwards. There’s no connection or intimacy anymore, we’re both too busy. Maybe if,” you sigh loudly unable to find the courage to finish the sentence. Luckily, Pedro knows what you’re thinking.

“If we were at a different stage in life, right?”

He finishes the thought in your head and you nod, fat tears falling down your face, his arms are quick to pull you into a hug, your head rests on his shoulder and he kisses the back of your head.

“I still love you, maybe things will work out for us one day, hm?”

You chuckle, the noise wet as you choke back your tears, “that would be a dream wouldn’t it?”

Having worked for Vanity Fair for the past 12 months, you had met some well known A-list celebrities, some in which would be here tonight at the mtv awards, some people attending not as well known but still nonetheless attending and perfectly deserving of your attention. Your black cocktail dress hugged your figure perfectly, hair pulled upward and styled neatly. Your faces natural beauty was accentuated by the light make up that had been carefully applied by the companies make up artist. The shades of pink and gold on your eyelids were glistening in the lights that shone a bright white overhead as you stood in the middle of the walkway right before the entry to the building where the awards were being held.

Your manager had warned you sympathetically that Pedro was one person you’d be interviewing, it didn’t take much reassuring on your behalf to assure her that although and and Pedro hadn’t really spoken since you broke up; besides the yearly birthday messages and him liking your Instagram posts, that things were okay between you and you were happy to interview him.

When you see him, he’s looking as handsome as ever. His brown hair had a few greying strands on the side of his head near his temples. The purple suit he wears clings to his body and he wears it with finesse, the grapefruit colour makes his skin look its glowing in a golden light, the suit hangs off his broad shoulders with no room to spare. A small heart-shaped patch in his black and grey beard was still failing to fill with hair on the left side of his face. He smiles so widely when he sees you, quickening his casual pace to a speed walk to bump his body into yours, wrapping his strong arms around you to pull you into a hug, his big muscles bulging against your dress-clad skin. You accept the hug and pull him into you, squeezing him as your arms wrap around the back of his neck, the cologne he wears compliments the natural musk of him that you recognise and miss so dearly.

You fight the urge to look at his plump lips a second time, the shade of pink whispered sweet words to draw you into him like a hypnotist, threatening you to kiss him against your will. He pulls back and stands tall next to you, he towers over you, even in your 3 inch heels.

“Pedro Pascal, what a warm welcome. Thank you so much for joining us this evening.” You greet warmly, holding the microphone between the small gap between your bodies, he misses the redness on your cheeks as he grins so widely his dimple exposes itself.

“Thank you for having me, it’s so great to be here, and it’s so great to see you, look at you, you’re looking stunning this evening.” He stands a little too close to you than he does anyone else that’s trying to get an interview from him, his fondness of you showing through the camera that records you.

“You always were a charmer weren’t you. This suit is incredible, you’re looking dapper tonight.” Your free hand that isn’t holding the mic gently runs a hand down his suit, keeping your hand on his chest, getting a feel for the material. You grin at the redness of his cheeks before getting to what the fans really want.

“Now, there is something your fans are begging me to address. As the self proclaimed biggest daddy on the internet, are your fans all your children?” Pedro laughs, the sound is ringing in your ears like the most delightful song you’ve ever heard. He takes the microphone from you and turns to the camera, “yes, you are all my children. I will warn you, grogu may get a little jealous.”

“That’s so sweet, why do you think you chose these roles that have you as basically a father figure?” You muse, eyes batting unintentionally as you’re drawn into his charming character. “I mean, truthfully I would love to have kids someday. Since that’s not an option right now I’m opting for the role of playing dad.” Your heart starts racing, both in awe and disappointment, knowing you would never be the one to bare his children, as his girlfriend or wife, you had missed your opportunity years ago.

“Now we do have a question that a lot of people are begging us to ask you and who are we to deny them?Does Joel Miller in the tv series meet the same fate as the game?” Pedro bares his teeth in a grimace and looks directly into the camera. “It’s going to be almost exactly the same, sorry kids.” He shrugs casually before turning back to you.

“Well Pedro it’s been such a delight to talk with you this evening, we’re wishing you and Bella the best to win an award, have a wonderful evening!” Pedros hands cross in front of his torso, fumbling with the silver ring that sits on his pinky. “Of course it’s amazing to see you. Thank you, have a great night.” He waves to you sweetly as he walks off with a staff member that’s leading him into the building. You stop filming and let out a big sigh.

“How are you feeling?” Your cameraman Andrew asks, “I’m okay, just feels like an open wound still, I guess.” He offers a sympathetic smile, “you did great. That was an awesome interview, everyone’s going to love it. Your chemistry is off the charts.”

You silently agree. The chemistry was still there, maybe you should just, text him later as a “it was so good to see you” curtesy text. Regardless of how terrible he was at texting, it would show you made an effort.

It’s been hours since you saw and spoke to Pedro, his image ingrained in your brain every time you close your eyes, where you’re normally met with blackness this night you’re met with his smile, the smell of his natural musk, the scent of his cologne lingered on your own skin as if he lie next to you. The heaviness of his hands as he hugged you felt as if he was still touching you, it made you restless. You were struggling to sleep even when the streets below your apartment began turning off their lights, one by one you seemed to be the only one wide awake in the neighbourhood.

11:28pm. After changing your mind about half a dozen times on what to write, you settle on something kind and friendly, and you send the text: “it was so good to see you tonight, you look great.”

To your surprise it’s barely a minute before he replies: “it was such a pleasure to see you, can I ask you something?”

Your heart is racing as you can barely think about what he could possibly ask, you assure him: “of course, anything.”

The bubble comes up as if he’s typing, then disappears. You grown as you watch him type and delete this message before it finally comes through after a few minutes: “going to bed anytime soon?”

You raise an eyebrow to yourself and whisper, “seriously that’s what took you so long?” And reply to him: “nope, wide awake.”

“Want some company? I can bring coffee.” You rub your eyes in disbelief, wondering if this is real or an illusion.

“Please do. You know how I like it.” You send through your address as you’ve moved to a newer and slightly bigger apartment in the last year. “Be there soon.” He replies without a moments notice.

“Shit.” You mutter to yourself as you rush to the bathroom, attempting to make yourself look presentable, brushing your hair down neatly before braiding it, smoothing out your pyjamas and turning on some lights in the living room as you turn on the tv to Disney Plus turning on Moana as you attempt to sit comfortably.

There’s a soft knock at the door and you get an alert on your phone that someone’s outside, you check your phone, seeing Pedro standing in black pants, a white shirt and a large black trench-coat, a cardboard cup holder in hand with two Starbucks coffees occupying the space. You smooth out your pyjamas once again and unlock the two locks to your front door, feeling winded as you see your ex boyfriend standing there looking as beautiful as ever with a shy smile on his face.

You open the door and step to the side, “please, come in.” He shudders slightly from the breeze that drafts in from outside, your house abnormally warm and the feeling is welcome on his cold skin. “You have a nice place here. How long ago did you move in?” You take the coffees and sit them down in the cup holders in your lounge as he takes off his trench-coat, the atmosphere too warm for the accessory. “Coming up 12 months now. Right after I started working for Vanity Fair.”

You gesture for Pedro to sit on the lounge after he hands his coat on the coat hanger by the door, he keeps a respectable space between you, unlike earlier in the evening where he stood entirely too close. “Moana always was your favourite.” Pedro muses to himself. “Somethings never change.” You reply with a shrug, the statement having a double meaning behind it.

“Yeah, I guess. What’s new in your life anyway. Other than work and all the formalities?” He questions, the hopeful look in his eye beams as you sink comfortably into the grey couch, “nothing really, I’m quite boring these days. The same girl you know.” You sip your coffee and hum in contentment, missing the way Pedro whispered “and love.” After your statement, “thanks so much for the coffee, it’s perfect. It’s any wonder you still remember,” you admit.

“How could I forget my girls coffee order?” Pedro freezes, realisation of what he said sinks in. “I mean, I meant- I didn’t..” he stutters and you rest your hand on his, trying to diffuse his panicked state. “It’s okay, I’ve missed you you know. Seeing you tonight made me realise how much I never got over you.” The admission has both of your skin burning with desire and slight embarrassment. “You feel that way?” His voice is sweet, you wish he would just talk to you all night, you’d simply sit and listen.

“Of course I do. I’ve always loved you Pedro.” Just like that the bomb has dropped, the elephant in the room is too large and suffocating to ignore, you still love him, years later you still love him.

“I’ve been needing to hear that for such a long time. I love you, I was a fool to let you go,” you lean into the warmth of Pedro’s hand as he caresses your face, your heart rate spiking at his touch and confession. “We can always just.. pick up where we left off,” you offer sweetly. Pedro’s eyes raise at your offer, the ball was in his court and he was going to take it. Without another word he pulls you into him, your lips smashing into his, moulding together like two unique puzzle pieces that were made for each other.

You part your lips and grant him access to deepen the kiss, years of unspoken love and missing each other all came to surface with this kiss. When you pull apart you’re both heaving, foreheads pressed together you stare into his chocolate orbs. “Please be mine. I don’t think I could go another day knowing you’re not mine.” You exhale a shaky breath, the taste of him still on your lips, “I was always yours Pedro. We just had to find out way back.” Pedro’s thumb strokes your cheek and let’s put a small laugh, almost in relief. “I’m grateful we did. Everything feels right again.”

You nod as you silently agree with him, the hole left empty now felt overfilled, you knew your cup would never be empty again with Pedro by your side again, “stay the night.” Your nose grazes his cheek as you whisper. He pulls you into his lap, strong arms holding you in place as he kisses your shoulder. “When have I ever been able to say no to you?”

“I’ll teach you how to stop being such a people pleaser one day you know.” You jest lightly. “As long as I have you, none of that even matters, baby.” You turn to kiss him, the intoxicating sweetness of his lips is almost impossible to pull away from. “You’ll always have me. Promise.” A few moments of silence pass before you ask, “did you win the award?” Pedro hums before he realises what you’ve said, pulling his eyes away from the tv, “yeah we did, Bella was stoked, it was such a big moment for them.” You lean into his chest, smiling in content with how perfectly things were falling into place.

[emilia3546]

My Queen - Poppy x Casteel x Kieran NSFW

Poppy and Casteel knew that the joining might lead to something more involving Kieran, but months down the line, he's still sharing their bed, and is more than willing to help when Poppy wants to take control a bit more.

Or, 4500 words of smut

*****

Poppy twirled her wrist, the dagger's blade flashing in the candlelight, but Casteel merely grinned at her,

"So violent," he murmured against her neck, the slight scrape of his teeth sending heat flooding through her,

"You know you like it," she teased, and stepped forwards, pushing him back towards the bed, ignoring Kieran's chuckle from behind her when Casteel crashed into the blankets. He was still grinning up at her, those stupid dimples making her heart do flips in her chest as she slid into his lap, placing the dagger aside, and hauled his mouth to hers, tugging on his hair as he lifted her slightly, one arm around her waist, the other holding her head against him. She couldn't breathe through the kiss, the way he was practically devouring her, his tongue slipping into her mouth at the first desperate breath she took, but everything, breathing included, became secondary to him. Casteel nipped gently at her bottom lip, giving Poppy one more breath before she opened fully and his mouth was back on hers, his arm around her waist tightening. She ground against him, losing herself in the feel of his body against hers, the hardness in his lap, the taste of him on her tongue.

She panted when he leaned back onto his elbows, looking up at her with undisguised awe, his lips already slightly swollen, and Poppy couldn't help the rush of satisfaction, she had done that, she had been the one to make him switch from the King their people knew and loved to the man who would give her anything she asked for, who made her scream almost every night, but not tonight. Tonight she was going to make him scream. She moved against him again, sighing and tipping her head to the side when he pushed her robe off her shoulders, and she thanked the gods that she'd already gotten his pants off. She lifted herself off him, letting him slide backwards onto the bed properly, but yelped when he sat up and dragged her towards him, collapsing back onto the bed when she swatted him off,

"Uh-uh, don't try any of that tonight, it's my turn." Casteel grinned again, and raised his hands, his eyes widening when she reached back for the dagger, "Is this okay?"

"Gods yes," he groaned, his hands falling onto her hips when she nudged his head back, the point of the dagger resting just beneath his chin, "Poppy," he groaned, but Poppy didn't move, not even when his hands tightened on her hips,

"Ah, patience, Your majesty," she chuckled, turning the dagger to slightly press the blade against his throat, leaving space for him to talk, but just enough pressure for him to feel it there as she slowly sank down onto his cock, moaning herself as he filled her. She paused once he was fully seated inside her, and glanced down to check he was still okay, "Cas?"

"Fuck," he muttered, "Poppy, move, please," his eyes were pools of molten gold as he gazed up at her,

"What was that?" She crooned, chuckling at the way he groaned at the slow roll of her hips,

"I should never have taught you that," he complained, "C'mon, please," Poppy just raised an eyebrow, "Poppy," she still refused to react, and smirked at the flash of realization in his eyes, "My Queen," he said, his voice already breathless, his chest rising and falling along with his quickly speeding breathing, "My Queen," he repeated, "Please,"

"Please what?" Poppy teased, laughing at the way Casteel's eyes were blown with lust, but savored the chocolate covered strawberry flavor filling the air around them, coming not only from her husband,

"Please move, please," Casteel gasped, but Poppy just laughed,

"I don't know," she brushed his hair out of his face with her free hand, "You look rather pretty like this, what do you think, Kieran?" She turned to lock eyes with the wolven behind her,

"Oh, you've got to really make him beg if you want to get even for last night," Poppy flushed at the memory of both of them moving inside her, Casteel in her mouth, and Kieran fucking into her from behind. Kieran had crossed the room, and he now tipped her chin up, "You looked rather pretty like that, you know, My Queen," Poppy narrowed her eyes at the joking tone,

"Back off, I get to be in charge, that was the deal,"

"True, but not of me, you're in charge of him, not me," she narrowed her eyes, and turned back to Casteel, gripping his hair in her hand, and tugging his head back, trailing the dagger down his chest as she kissed her way along his jaw, and down his neck.

"Poppy," he complained, and groaned in protest when Kieran pulled his hands off Poppy's hips, pulling them up above his head, "Oh, fuck off, that's not fair," Poppy just smirked while Kieran pulled a length of rope out of a bedside drawer, binding Casteel's wrists to the headboard. Poppy finally obliged him, rocking back and forth slowly, the dagger pressed back against his throat, then, looking him straight in the eyes, she lifted off him. She laughed at his little groan of complaint that changed into a moan when she lowered herself back onto him, and then again, and again, "Fuck," he muttered, and Poppy laughed to herself, switching the hand holding the dagger to allow Kieran to pull her robe off, leaving her fully bare. Casteel groaned at the sight of her bare body, her breasts, and tugged against the ropes binding his hands, but Kieran had bound them too well, not giving him any more room than was needed to be safe.

"Give me the dagger," Poppy considered saying no, but she was well aware that tonight could quickly switch from Casteel being the one who was tied up and being denied to her, or both of them. She handed over the dagger.

Kieran chuckled, grinning a Poppy as he held the dagger against Casteel's throat, sitting behind his head, giving himself a perfect view of Poppy,

"What are you waiting for, Poppy? I want him begging for release," Poppy grinned,

"He is pretty when he begs,"

"I'll  remind you of that tomorrow," Casteel gasped, his eyes flickering shut when Poppy placed both hands on his chest and began a torturously slow roll of her hips. Casteel was right, for his own sanity, he should never had taught her that, told her how if affected him, especially as he moaned her name, straining to try and reach her. "Poppy, please, gods," she laughed at the incoherent words falling from his lips, glad that, for once, it wasn't her on the brink of fully begging, even if he'd definitely take revenge tomorrow, maybe even as soon as she let him up. "You're a fucking goddess," he groaned, "Just a bit more, please," so close, he was so close, and Poppy lifted herself up, allowing gravity to pull her back down onto him, rolling her hips immediately once he was back inside her,

"Like that?"

"Yes," he gasped, "More, please, please," there it was, that loss of control she so often found, the trust she had in him and Kieran mirrored in Casteel's face as his eyes closed again, a deep moan filling the air.

"Can we let him come?" Poppy panted, a little nervous of giving him permission to do so without asking Kieran first,

"Well that would be bad manners, he should make you come first, shouldn't he?" Poppy nodded, her vision fracturing when Casteel slammed his hips up on an off beat, making her hands slip so that she collapsed onto him, letting out a cry of pleasure when he did it again. She scrambled to get her balance back, meeting Casteel's every move with one of her own, holding his gaze as the pleasant tightness in her muscles, the tightness that was increasing every second,

"Kieran," she managed, "I want-" she didn't finish the thought before he nodded, and that tension released all at once, so powerfully that Poppy wasn't sure if she was screaming Casteel's name, or just screaming, she wasn't even sure that she was the one screaming. Someone murmured something, and Poppy squealed again at the feel of Casteel's release, the sound of his cries of pleasure, repeating her name like a prayer. She managed to catch her breath just to find Casteel panting beneath her, his hair all over the place, and Poppy brushed it out of his face, running her hand along his jaw. He leaned into her touch, and she laughed to herself,

"What?"

"You. You're just, just perfect," she murmured, leaning down to kiss him again, "I love you," he answered with a nip at her bottom lip, making her open again, melting into him, no, she was in charge. She sat up,

"I love you," Casteel said, and she smiled, but still didn't let him sneak back control,

"Oh no, you don't," she nodded at Kieran, who moved from his position leaning against the headboard to pull her off Casteel, settling her so that she was leaning back against him,

"No," Casteel complained, "Poppy, come back here," he tugged on the ropes again, "You ass, Kieran!" Poppy stifled a laugh at the way Kieran grinned, guiding her head back onto his shoulder, one arm around her waist, the other dipping down her body, rubbing circles on her stomach, but never lower, allowing her time to breathe, to recover. She turned her head to kiss his collarbone, and he brushed a thumb across her cheek, ignoring Casteel's desperate groans on the bed,

"You tell me who's better okay, Poppy?" Poppy nodded, not quite realizing what he meant until his hand started to drift down towards her sex, she let her head fall limp on Kieran's shoulder, her eyes closing in bliss. She held on to the arm around her waist as he slipped on finger inside her, then another, curling them both together, moving slowly, too slowly, but didn't speed up when Poppy tugged at his wrist,

"Kieran, please, more," she whimpered,

"Who's better?"

"Currently, Cas," she snapped, "He actually made me climax," Kieran chuckled, and nipped at her ear,

"We'll see," he muttered, and Poppy turned her head to glare at him, but didn't speak again, she knew she would never be able to say anything remotely polite, and she didn't want to give Kieran an excuse to tie her up as well, she quite liked seeing Casteel like this, being the one in control. She liked the glimmer in his eyes now, the same as when she'd asked him if they could switch roles, now that she was comfortable with what she liked, what he liked, she wanted to try something a bit different, and gods was it brilliant. She rocked her hips against Kieran's hand, moaning out his name each time her struck that spot inside her that made her gasp in delight.

"Poppy," Casteel groaned, "Poppy, please," she grinned, and ground harder against Kieran,

"Yeah, Cas, you can wait, it's my turn," he teased, and Poppy laughed,

"What if I want to tie you both up and have my way with you?"

"Then I would say that you're the only woman in Atlantia who could achieve such a thing," Kieran murmured, his voice low, the same as when he spoke to her while she was screaming his name, or when he and Casteel decided to make her squirm in public, knowing full well that she was awful at hiding her arousal. "But I think you'll enjoy what I've got planned, and I can't do it tied up," she nodded,

"Another night then," she managed before Kieran pushed a third finger into her, curling them all at the same time as he pressed down with his thumb on her clit. "Kieran," she gasped,

"Nope," he muttered,

"But," she shuddered, "Please,"

"I said no," she gasped again, trembling with the effort of staying on the edge while her body tried to climax. She squealed, trying to pull away, but Kieran clamped down that arm around her waist, leaving her wriggling in his grasp, but unable to escape the pleasure, the desperate need to climax,

"Cas, please, make him let me," she cried, sobbing when Kieran pulled his fingers out of her and pushed them into her mouth. She coughed, but relaxed her throat, moaning at the taste of herself until he pulled away, his fingers clean.

"You okay?" He murmured, and she nodded,

"You're being mean though," she complained,

"Awwww, too bad," Kieran laughed, nudging her forwards so that she leaned onto her elbows, lifting her ass, and wiggled it when Kieran made no move to touch her. "So desperate, both of you," Kieran lifted Poppy's chin so that she was staring straight at Casteel. She took the moment that he let go to wriggle forwards, holding on to Casteel so that she could at least touch him if Kieran insisted on further denying her. She wrapped a hand around him, pumping him slowly, speeding up when Kieran gripped her hips, "You ready?"

"Yes! Fuck. Me." she snapped, not caring that she wasn't really in charge of Kieran tonight, but he didn't seem to mind, both he and Casteel seemed to like it when she had a bit of an attitude. She panted as he slowly, too slowly pushed into her, leaving her pushing her hips backwards in demand. Kieran laughed, pulling all the way out, but slammed back in one go, and Poppy squealed, redoubling her efforts as she stroked Casteel harder, then let go, leaning onto him as she slipped the head of him into her mouth, humming around him at the twin moans around her. She had Casteel right where she wanted him, gasping out and screaming her name at every move she made, and she had Kieran's self-control slowly shredding, even if she hadn't quite wrestled control from him just yet.

Casteel thrust upwards into her mouth, and Poppy pulled up a bit, drawing in a breath through her nose before forcing her throat to relax as she took him as deep as she could. Kieran was groaning behind her, his thrusts harder now, and he rubbed her back as she bobbed her head up and down Casteel's cock.

"Poppy," Kieran groaned, and she reached back to squeeze his hand, tipping her hips back to allow him deeper, moaning around Casteel when Kieran somehow slammed deeper inside her, shouting out her name as he released into her. Poppy stilled, letting Casteel show her what he needed while Kieran eased her slowly down to the bed, rubbing her shoulders and her back as she pulled her mouth off Casteel, swiping her tongue along the length of him,

"Untie him," she panted, not waiting to see if Kieran obeyed before her attention snapped back to Casteel. She groaned when his hands threaded through her hair, pulling it out of her face, and she nodded as much as she could, moaning loudly when he fucked up into her, and again. She let herself fall still, giving Casteel freedom to find his pleasure the way he needed. She shuddered when he released into her mouth, swallowing around him, and squealed when Kieran appeared behind her again, a light brush against her clit all she needed to push her over the edge again. Casteel lifted her into his arms while she shook with the force of the aftershocks of her climax, kissing her gently,

"Are you done?" He murmured,

"No way in hell," Poppy grinned, and yelped when Casteel flipped her underneath him, sharing a look with Kieran, a look that meant trouble. She was about to lose control, but she didn't mind, not if Casteel wanted to swap back to their usual roles to finish one last time, she liked having control, but she definitely liked trusting him enough to let go of control and follow his lead. She could never get enough of that look on his face, the way he was staring down at her, she closed her eyes moments before his lips met hers, her hands immediately sliding into his hair, tugging him closer, closer, until she really couldn't tell where she ended and he began. She let her head drop back, still gripping Casteel's hair tight as he peppered kisses across her face, a slight scrape of his fangs at her throat dragging out another moan, another plea. He hovered just above her, straining slightly to resist the way she was trying to pull his face back towards her. He dropped to his elbows above her, and Poppy whined in frustration when he refused to move, to give her what she wanted, what she knew he wanted. She furrowed her brows, and made to complain when Casteel pried her hands away from his face, but the words died when he interlaced their fingers, pressing her hands against the bed. She wriggled, lifting her hips in demand, but Casteel just chuckled,

"Patience, My Queen," she huffed at the change of tone from earlier, light and teasing, another switch had been flipped, it was her turn to beg for more. She stopped wriggling, allowing her body to sink into the mattress, slightly lowering her lashes as she tipped her head sideways, gazing up at him, "Fuck, Poppy, you're so gorgeous," he laughed, "So fucking sexy," she flushed at that, no matter how many times he said it, the idea that he found her beautiful, sexy still shocked her. He had absolutely no idea how much it meant when each time he did say it. She scrunched her face up when he flicked her nose, chuckling to himself, but his gaze softened when Poppy opened her eyes again, and she sighed happily, it didn't matter how many times she looked into his eyes, how many times she fell asleep or woke up in his arms, it would always be home, he would always be home.

Casteel pressed his forehead against hers, and she closed her eyes, content with the feel of him against her as he gently nudged her legs back apart with almost heartbreaking softness, as if he was worried he'd break the moment. Poppy opened her eyes, holding Casteel's gaze as he slowly pushed into her, and she murmured his name, again and again,

"I love you," she said once he was fully seated inside her, and he kissed the words away, murmuring them back to her before starting to move. Poppy gasped out his name at each slow, measured thrust, but squeezed his hands, a plea in her eyes as she murmured, "More, Cas please, more," she didn't have to ask twice before he obliged her, kissing along her jaw as he strengthened his thrusts, his hips snapping against hers as she mumbled something unintelligible, drawing twin chuckles from both men, and she locked eyes with Kieran over Casteel's shoulder, suddenly feeling bad for leaving him out, "Cas, what about-" Casteel nipped at her skin and Poppy broke off with a moan,

"Don't worry about him, he'll be getting his fill of pleasure in a moment," Poppy made to question how, but her eyes widened at the bottle of lubricant in Kieran's hand, oh.

"Is he going to fuck you?"

"That's exactly what he's going to do," Casteel chuckled, "You're not the only one who enjoys having two partners at once," Poppy flushed at his words, despite having already had both of them inside her that evening, "Beautiful," Casteel murmured again, but dropped his face into Poppy's neck when Kieran climbed onto the bed behind him, coating his fingers in the lubricant. Poppy watched as he grinned, staring straight at her as he slowly pushed one finger into her husband, earning a low moan from where Casteel's face was still hidden in Poppy's neck.

"Have you done this before?" She panted, struggling for words, but her curiosity got the better of her,

"Oh yes," Kieran moved his hand, doing something that made Casteel whimper and push his hips back, only for Kieran to push him back towards the bed, back into Poppy, and she gasped out at the doubled force of that thrust, "Your husband used to be quite the little whore for me you know, Poppy. Isn't that right, Cas?" Poppy tugged Casteel's head up, and kissed his jaw,

"Are you going to answer?" She teased,

"Yes," he gasped,

"There was a time when he'd be ass up on my bed every night,"

"Only when you ended up on your knees as well," Casteel moaned, trying to sound teasing, but the way he was panting, letting out little moans with each of Kieran's movements, rather ruined the effect. Poppy snapped her hips upwards when Kieran pulled his hand back, rising to his knees and lining up his slicked cock with Casteel's ass. At a subtle motion from Kieran, she fell still, and Kieran gripped Casteel's hips to stop him from moving, making him whimper, actually whimper, in desperation, "Please," he whined, trying to push his hips back, then back down, but Poppy refused to help, and Kieran wouldn't let him move. She tried to pull a hand free, but Casteel tightened his grip, "If I have to wait, so do you," he managed, and she pulled a face, waiting, but he didn't relent,

"Kieran," she complained, "He's not letting me touch him,"

"Probably because he knows that you'll just shove him right to the edge if he does, and he wants to be able to climax at that point," Kieran was right, she wanted to hear him begging her again, but she wasn't that predictable, right? "Oh alright," Kieran murmured after Casteel let out another rather pathetic whimper, slowly pushing into him, before pulling almost all the way out and slamming home in one go, shoving Casteel deeper into Poppy, leaving them both moaning in pleasure. Kieran kept a hold of Casteel's hips, dictating the pace for both of them, just too slow for Poppy to climax, Casteel could climax just from being inside her at this pace, but she needed a little more, and sure enough, Casteel's eyes were drooping closed, that look of pure bliss crossing his face,

"Kieran, please, Cas is gonna come, I want to," she whined, and Kieran just smiled,

"You will, but first he's gotta make come," Casteel screamed both of their names as he spilled himself inside Poppy, trying to pull out, but found himself trapped between the two of them as Kieran thrust back into him. Kieran pinned him still forcing him to stay inside Poppy, forcing him to harden again, and climax again before shoving him particularly hard into Poppy so that she squealed and came with him on the third climax, her head still tipped sideways where he'd nudged it as he'd buried his face in her neck after his first climax had faded. She panted as Kieran groaned, finally pulling out and allowing them both a reprieve. She panted on the bed, still pinned in place with Casteel above her.

"Cas," she muttered, "You okay?" He nodded, blinking his eyes open, his breathing still heavy and fast as he recovered from the force of those final climaxes,

"Gods," he muttered, "I don't think I've ever come that hard," Poppy chuckled, and kissed his brow, reaching out a hand for Kieran when Casteel released her hands to hold her against him as he flopped sideways onto the bed. She snuggled into his chest, smiling when another body pressed into her from behind, arms wrapping around her. Kieran brushed Casteel's hair back, then ran a hand down Poppy's side, resting it on her hip,

"Are you both sure you're feeling okay? Can I get you anything?"

"A bath would be nice," Poppy murmured, "I'll help you in a minute,"

"Not a chance," Kieran laughed, "I'm not the one who just got fucked into oblivion," Poppy still made to sit up, but Casteel held on to her,

"Let him do it, he needs to look after you, us, now. That's how he recovers,"

"But you usually do that for me,"

"I know, but I'm usually in his role, if I've not been the once in charge I need cuddles just like you do," he pulled her fully onto his chest, a hand rubbing down her back as she settled in his arms "But I like cuddles anyway, especially with you," Poppy sighed, resting her cheek against his chest, his heart thundering under her ear, in time with her own. She closed her eyes for a moment, but when she opened them she was in Casteel's arms, halfway across the room to the bathroom where Kieran was dumping a bunch of different bath salts into the steamy water. This bathtub, room really, was incredible, she'd never seen one like it before moving in, it filled most of the room, leaving plenty of space for all three of them to stretch out without touching if they wanted to.

She sighed again when Casteel slowly lowered her into the water, her sore muscles relaxing in the warm water. She leaned back against the side of the bathtub, and waited for Casteel to join her, splashing him as he got in, quickly starting a full-on splash war with both men once Kieran had joined them, ending in a swift defeat once she'd taken one too many facefulls of water,

"I surrender," she gasped, blinking the water out of her eyes, but couldn't resist one last splash, managing to angle it so that she got both Casteel and Kieran in the face. She readied herself to retaliate when Casteel floated across to her, but he made no move to splash her, just slipping behind her, his hands diving into her hair, and she melted under his touch. Still, Poppy remained poised to attack until he grabbed a bottle of shampoo from the side, massaging it through her hair while she groaned at Kieran's touch, starting at her feet, and working his way up, easing the soreness from her muscles with each stroke of his fingers. She groaned when Casteel flipped her round so that she was facing him, giving Kieran access to her back, letting him find a sore spot, and concentrate his efforts until the tension eased.

"Head back," Casteel murmured, and she leaned back into the water, letting Kieran work the shampoo out of her hair before passing her a bar of soap, she could easily just give it back to him, but she wanted to do it herself. She must have fallen asleep again, leaning against one of them because she once she woke up, she was back in the bed, wearing her favorite nightgown, her hair brushed through, snuggled between Casteel and Kieran, she let her eyes fall shut again, "Night, Princess," Casteel murmured, and Poppy snuggled her face into him a little more,

"Nah-nuh," she mumbled, his chuckles still sounding in her ears when she slipped back to sleep.

[jacky-rubou]

This has nothing to do with Gravity Falls and I'm sorry in advance to my followers for that, but I recently watched Star Wars the original trilogy with my brother over the last few days and I can't help but notice how autistic coded C-3PO is. And before anyone says "Oh, but C-3PO can't be autistic coded, he's a droid, not a human!", he's a fully sentient being in his own right, with his own quirks and mannerisms and saying otherwise only mirrors the anti-droid sentiments we see throughout the series that have been time and time again shown to be incorrect and discriminatory. Anyway.... Here is my essay on some explicitly autistic traits C-3PO possesses.

He has trouble reading social cues, often not realizing when he should just keep quiet (the whole "Never tell me the odds!" from Han was because C-3PO was constantly updating them on the odds and making everyone nervous) or when he's interrupting something private and should be a bit more courteous (walking in on Han and Leia and being genuinely clueless about why they got upset at him). It's a bit odd that a protocol droid made for human-cyborg relations would be so confused in social situations, don't you think?

C-3PO has a propensity for info-dumping, especially about his role as translator for humans. He, often with some energy, wants to tell everyone about said role and how many languages he speaks every time he's introducing himself. Almost like an encyclopedia. His special interest is in translating alien languages and he's quick to let everyone know about it.

C-3PO struggles when it comes to breaking rules, often reminding others that 'it's against my programming' to do something deviant. Like on the forest moon of Endor when Han, Luke and Chewie were held captive by the Ewoks, he was reluctant to act as deity to the teddy bears. He's a very rule abiding droid, often needing a push in order to break them or simply refusing to at all.

Another, slightly unheard of, autistic trait C-3PO has is elopement, wandering off without telling anyone where he's going and where he's not supposed to go. A big moment where he did this, without even following R2-D2 like he normally does, is in Cloud City, where he split up from the main group and entered a random door.

Sort of minor trait, but he also states the obvious and takes things literally.

One big thing that ties everything together is how everyone around C-3PO reacts to him. He's often told to shut up when he begins his introduction, barely even making it past how many languages he can speak before he's shut down (both literally and figuratively). People are visibly annoyed by him and ignore him, only to turn to him to use his special interest (translating alien languages for communication) for their own purposes and taking it for granted, leading to him feeling worthless sometimes. He often has to be very persistent if he wants someone to hear what he has to say, especially if it's Han he's trying to talk to. He's the butt of many jokes and hurtful comments too, which wouldn't mean much on its own, but the fact that he possesses so many autistic traits alongside it makes one wonder...

Anyway, I relate to C-3PO, especially after recognizing the very real autistic traits he possesses in just the original trilogy. I'm sure there are more that I didn't mention in the prequels/clone wars. C-3PO is autistic coded and there's nothing anyone could say that would change my mind.

[stephreynaart]

Gravity Falls - “Waiting”

Pop-Pop AU

Stan sits in a hospital waiting room, thinking about his life and the people he loves.

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This is kinda old, but I realized I never posted it on tumblr. Hope ya like it!

Lots of fluff, the only ships are Soos and Melody.

AO3 LINK

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It had a square aspect ratio. Ink pen and watercolor on white heat pressed cotton paper in a bland white frame. One single blue flower in a red vase with what looks like a yellowish shadow. One shadow going left, the other going right. The lack of confidence and inexperience was obvious, the lines were unfocused and jagged, the color plainly filled the shapes and gave no other visual interest to the image.

Below the frame was a small white card that read “Painting donated by Jessica Blaise from Gravity Falls Elementary School”

Stan scanned the painting at least 20 times while sitting in that chair. The too rough and too soft at the same time chair that had similar copies populating the almost white room he sat in. The wallpaper bouncing off light pinks and blues with tiny ducklings as a makeshift wainscoting was starting to irritate the old man. It was too bright, and the consistent buzz of the fluorescent lights seemed so loud. Stan adjusted himself in his chair, switching his crossed legs to a wider spread and leaned his head against the wall.

The only other stimulus in the room were a few posters promoting proper hand washing techniques, the play area with a small table and chairs with large blocks, crayons and that weird “game” with the metal wiring and wooden beads that’s in every waiting room Stan’s ever sat in. He played with the toys to give himself something to do after he read all the magazines. The novelty wore off fast.

The television mounted on the wall was airing some cooking channel with no sound and no subtitles. Looking at food when you haven’t eaten in a few hours was practically torture, so Stan had been averting his eyes.

There were other paintings on the wall, one was less of a painting, but instead a print of a painting. He doubted that the artist got any compensation from it, if they were still alive. The other was a charcoal drawing done by a student from the community college a town away. Another square, but the entire image was black, the brightest thing on the page was an intruding infant hand coming from the left with the arm fading into the dark background. The fingers seemingly mid-twitch and grabbing at something. The lighting was dynamic and interesting. Stan swore it was a drawing of a penis the first time he glanced at it, which resulted in his brother’s laughter. Stanley smiled at the memory, it was only a few hours ago, but he relishes any time he can make Stanford laugh.

Stan’s eyes darted at the door in the far corner when it opened suddenly. He eased back into his chair when the nurse crossed the room to talk with the receptionist. He couldn’t hear the conversation very well, but could tell they were just gossiping and making jokes. Nothing that was of his interest. So he looked back to the elementary school child’s painting and analyzed it again. His eyes were dry and he was tired. He wished he could sleep, the chair wasn’t comfortable enough and when he did managed to sleep, his neck was sore when he woke up. He was only lucky Ford let him use his shoulder as a pillow for a while. He looked to his left and noted the book his brother placed in the seat. It seemed thick and in what looked like Hebrew. Stan wasn’t very surprised Ford was fluent in the language they were acquainted with as children. Their grandparents on their father’s side were the last to be fully fluent in Hebrew. It was like his brother to be curious of their heritage, but Stan only remembered a few phrases and words he learned from holidays and special event when he had to recite anything in Temple.

Stan crossed his arms and glanced at the clock on the wall and let out an exasperated sigh. It had only been 10 minutes since he last checked the time. He wanted to be at home, be in his soft warm bed and getting ready to eat pancakes at this time in the morning.

He and Ford were on the porch of The Mystery Shack when Soos rushed them off to the hospital the yesterday afternoon. What he originally thought would be a couple of hours of waiting turned into almost twelve. Apparently labour can last a long time.

Stan wished he could be a witness for Soos and Melody like he was when Dipper and Mabel were born, but Melody wanted her privacy, which Stan could respect, but Soos wanted him there…..so he and Ford waited in this bright, annoyingly pastel waiting room, twiddling his thumbs awaiting the arrival of the new member of the mystery family. He was glad he was in at least comfortable clothes, some gray sweatpants and a sweater Mabel knitted for him that read “godfather”.

He was never clear on what the title entailed, but it was mentioned a few times by Soos’ grandmother and the kids insisted that Soos was intending to ask him. He hadn’t, but he didn’t protest Stan wearing the sweater. Whatever job godfathers had, he was willing to play the part if Soos were to ask him.

Stan looked at the double doors a few feet away that lead out of the waiting room and into the halls. His brother left to find something for them to eat, but was taking his sweet time. The turkey being basted on the television was no help in aiding his growling stomach.

He distracted himself by returning his thoughts to Soos and Melody. Just down the hall they were experiencing the strange and beautiful phenomenon that was witnessing the arrival of a brand new person. Stan remembered the feeling so clearly. His entire life he’s felt the presence of human beings. It’s inherent in most people to feel when someone is in the room with you, the other soul sharing the same space as you. Imagine being in a room with a set amount of people and someone else comes in, but imagine they came in without using a doorway. Just appearing seemingly out of thin air. Suddenly another person is with you, and they’re brand new to the world, a life full of potential and power. Yes, today is indeed a happy day, but no amount of positive thinking would ease Stan’s nerves. His foot began to bounce and his hands unconsciously began to fiddle with each other. He didn’t want to think anything would go wrong with Soos’ baby, but anything can happen and life is so fragile, especially at the start of it.

He recalled his nephew’s nervousness the day Dipper and Mabel were born. His hands were shaking and he was constantly checking on his wife and asking the doctors loads of questions. He didn’t fully understand the twins’ father’s behavior until the end of that day.

Mabel’s birth was swift and easy. Her mother only needed to push one and a half times before she was here. It was as if she was eager to meet everyone waiting for her. She cried like most babies do, but Stan could’ve sworn they were tears of joy. While Mabel was greeted with, “hello, beautiful”, “hi, sweetie” and “she’s perfect”, Her brother’s introduction to world started with, “what’s wrong?”, “wait, let me hold him”, and “he’s not moving”. Dipper was rushed out of the room before his mother got a chance to look at him. Stan managed to catch a glimpse of the horrifyingly blue tint on his great nephew’s tiny face. The memory still gave him chills. He remembered how much he wanted to hold Mabel, who began to fuss and cry, obviously missing her brother. He was terrified at the prospect of another incomplete set of twins in their family. After the longest 30 minute of his life, Stan’s great-nephew returned with a bright pink face, wailing with all the power his little lungs could produce. Once the twins were reunited in their mother’s arms, they settled down almost instantly. The doctors told their parents Dipper was significantly lighter in weight than his sister, but both were very strong and healthy. Every so often Stan thinks about Dipper and how much he has impacted his life. His thoughts lead to darker places and he questions if Ford would be here if Dipper wasn’t there to find the third journal. He shook his head as a cold shiver went up his spine.

Stan did his best to distract himself from revisiting the scare that Dipper caused him 16 years ago.

16 years…..17 in August

Stan blinked. The squishy, bright faces that stayed with him that first summer had changed significantly. They stayed in contact all year round and visited every summer since they were 12. But every in-person meeting was always a shock. Dipper was developing the square jaw Stan, both his brothers and nephew shared. He started to regularly wear glasses their second summer with the Stans. Poor kid will grow up looking like Filbrick like the rest of the Pines men. He reminded Stan of Ford at that age.

And Mabel…..

Stan will never get over how much she looks like his mother. It didn’t strike him until Soos and Melody’s wedding and she put her hair in a bun. She’s calmed her hyperactivity down a bit, but not by a lot, she still brightens his day with her wit and creativity. They’ve both matured physically, but not much has changed personality wise and they still acted like big children when they’re around each other. Stan loved them very much, and wished he could see them more often. He wondered what the future held for all of them. Would they still visit town after going to college? Would they move here? Or somewhere else?

He’s had several conversations with them to see how they’re managing the prospect of separating. They’re much better at communicating than he and Ford were and they seem actually excited to have some independence. It made Stan nervous, but he was sure their close relationship wouldn’t suffer.

Wendy chose to be elsewhere for the next few years. She and her friends booked a plane ticket and plan to backpack and hitchhike around Europe and the UK. Stan hopes they stay safe and watch out for each other. Lotta weirdos in Amsterdam. She was set to leave in the coming days, Wendy wanted to wait until today arrived so she could meet Soos and Melody’s kid before going away for who knows how long.

A tap on the shoulder woke Stan from his deep thoughts. His brother arrived with some warm sub sandwiches and coffee.

“Any word yet?, he asked Stan

“Nothin’ yet”, Stan felt helpless not having any clue how Soos and Melody were doing.

Stanford took his seat next to Stanley and they both silently enjoyed their late breakfast. Since arriving they’ve witnessed families reuniting and going past the door in the far corner to meet their children, grandchildren or siblings. Stan looked at the clock again. How has it only been another 5 minutes? He sighed, leaned back and finished the rest of his sub. One hand holding the sandwich, the other went back to gripping the arm rest, then a six fingered hand went down to rest on top of it. Stan let go of the armrest and tangled his fingers between Ford’s and held onto it with a, hopefully not too tight, grip. It was like an anchor to reality, much better at easing his anxieties than any words could. Over the past 4 years, Stan and Ford’s bond grew stronger. Stan still feared one day he would wake up and find himself still in that basement surrounded by broken machinery and languages he didn’t understand. He hasn’t yet, and was enjoying the time he had left with his twin. Stan took a moment to look at his brother again, Ford made eye contact and smiled then continued to read his book. Hands still intertwined

Stans thoughts went back to Soos…

It amazed Stan how much he had grown and it still baffled him that Soos idolized him as much as he does. Before Soos, Stan had no one. His brother was….gone, the rest of the family didn’t talk to him much outside of the holidays and special occasion. There hadn’t been any sense of consistency in Stan’s life for years, decades even, until he hired the chubby little kid he barely glanced at one random Saturday. Soos always arrived to work early, sometimes with breakfast for both of them. Stan didn’t know how much he needed a reliable companion until he had it and he enjoyed the 10 years he had with that kid… or man he should say. Here he was…a few rooms away, becoming a father.

Stan used to daydream a lot about the prospect of having kids when he was younger. He’s was always good with them when he had the chance to babysit his nephew, then later Dipper and Mabel when they were toddlers. He loved having kids in his house that first summer. He loved the energy and the sense of adventure the twins brought. They gave him a sense of purpose and belonging he hadn’t felt in years. He wished he was brave enough to have his own children. Not that he was ever with anyone long enough to want to have kids with him. He supposed it was for the best that he didn’t subject a child to homelessness or an unhappy marriage. He was also terrified at the idea. His dad used to say having kids ruined his life. He wondered who his father was before his older brother was born. Did they really ruin his life? Stan often wondered if he would be like his own dad if he has children of his own. Would he change and become that annoyed parent that resenting his children?

He thought about Soos again

That was probably the closest to parenthood he ever experienced. The first time he felt like one was when Soos asked him for homework help after closing. He initially told Soos no, he wasn’t exactly smart and didn’t think he would be any help. It apparently upset the kid, so Stan sighed and gave it a try. It was fairly simple middle school math, he didn’t remember everything, but helped Soos do more than half of it. Soos thanked him and went home happy. Stan felt weirdly proud, he was glad he made a small difference and managed to teach Soos something he didn’t even know he knew.

The second time was when Soos was a teenager. His grandmother wasn’t able to teach Soos to drive, since she had forgotten how and her late husband used to do the driving, she mostly walked everywhere. Soos offered to work for free so Stan could teach him. Stan loved driving and found teaching Soos cathartic. He was a fast and eager learner, he only bumped Stan’s car once while trying to figure out parallel parking. Little did Soos know that he was getting paid for his normal work hours. Stan just put it away long enough to help buy the kid some old used truck in the junkyard for getting his license. They fixed the truck up and in only a few weeks it was ready to be on the road. Soos has taken good care of it and it’s still his ride to this day

Stan was very proud of Soos. He taught the kid some basic self defense and managed to be a decent influence in his life. Soos at least has his priorities straight.

Stan was even glad to see that Soos was willing to question him. When the portal was reaching the final countdown, he didn’t hesitate to protect the kids from him when he thought Stan was dangerous. He didn’t know, none of them did, so he didn’t blame Soos for distrusting him. He hoped he never had to betray him again. They both had crappy dads, and Stan knew how Soos saw him. Stan was never really sure if he reciprocated those feelings. It felt natural to act the part, but to put a label as important as “dad” on Stan was daunting. Soos definitely deserves better than what he was given, Stan wasn’t sure if he was it.

Stan looked up at the familiar voices running towards him from the double doors.

“Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Ford!” Mabel waved to them

The two teenagers and Wendy walked in holding a balloon and various toys. They took some seats across from the Stans and asked how everyone was doing and if the baby arrived yet.

“Not yet, hopefully soon” Ford answered

Stan relaxed and silently enjoyed his family’s company. He laid his head back and leaned slightly on Ford to rest for a minute. His eyes shut as he listened to the kids joke around and talk amongst themselves. He squeezed Ford’s hand one more time before drifting off.

He knew he should’ve tried sleeping earlier, he wasn’t out for more than 15 minutes when Soos came into the waiting room. Stan’s eyes shot open and he was on his feet faster than he did when he was being chased by angry costumers as a door to door salesman. Soos’ red eyes sagged and he seemed exhausted, but carried a proud, wide smile across his face. He sniffed and wiped his eyes.

“It’s a boy”, he squeaked, “mom and baby are okay”

Dipper and Mabel were first to start the hugs, and the room filled with cheers of congratulations and love. Stan felt light as a feather giving Soos a hug and joking about child labor.

“Can we see him?”, Mabel bounced with anticipation

“Yeah, dudes!”, Soos gestured everyone past the corner door and into the suite. “But only for a little while, Melody has to sleep”

The room was small, dimly lit and warm. The Pines crew collectively lowered their voices as Melody came into view on the bedding holding a bundle of blankets decorated with small yellow ducklings. She was leaned back on a large pillow, covered in blankets and toted a soft smile on her face. Soos stroked her hair and picked up his little son to show to the Pines’. The younger twins got a look at him first,

Mabel squealed and cooed at the tiny infant. Then Wendy, who said hi to the baby and told Soos she’d make sure to send him gifts while she was away

“What’s his name?”, Mabel asked Melody

“I named him after my dad”, Melody replied, “Jacob”. She smiled sadly at the memory of the father she lost the year before.

Soos approached the Stans, Ford smiled and complimented the couple on a having such beautiful little boy, but shot Soos a look, who silently replied with another one. Something was up.

Finally Stan got a look at baby Jacob. “Wow” Stan smiled, patting Soos’ arm. “He looks exactly like you”

Soos laughed, “really? I think he looks like Melody”, there was a short silence before Soos spoke up again.

“Do you want to hold him, Mr Pines?”

Stan looked at Soos and smiled, “heh, sure”. He held his arms out. Soos lowered his arms to pass the baby to Stan, who scrunched his face up and started to fuss. Stan took the infant and managed to hold him with one arm. He bounced and shushed little Jacob until he calmed down. “Heya kid”, He’s held babies dozens of times, but something felt different about this one. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but Stan felt an almost magnetic pull towards him. Jacob settled comfortably against Stan and continued his rest. Stan softly beamed at the tiny person in his arms.

“Hey, Stan?”

Stan lifted an eyebrow and looked at Soos, who was fidgeting with his hands and nervously smiling.

“Uh..”, he paused, taking in the sight of Stan holding his child. “You know about my dad”, Soos looked at Ford again, who shrugged and nodded. Stan studied Ford’s face, who’s eyes strayed away as he hid a small smile. Soos got his attention again.

“You uh…he wasn’t…”, Soos choked up, his voice strained a bit, “I met you when I was probably the loneliest I ever was in my entire life”. Stan pictured the little boy he hired on the spot, he didn’t remember him until Soos showed up at his door step the next day ready to work. He didn’t know how much that quick, thoughtless decision would change his life.

Soos perked up and walked across the room to a table and picked up the piece of paper sitting on it. Soos glanced at it, then at Stan and smiled, gaining some emotional strength it seemed.

“You mean a lot me”, Soos, “you were there when I really needed it, you gave me a job, taught me just about everything I know. I don’t think I ever thanked you for that”

Stan got a bit nervous, Was this him asking to be the godfather?Everyone was silent and curiously watching. Soos held his hand out and handed the paper to Stan. He adjusted his arm to properly hold Jacob in his arm and took it. Stan flipped the page and noticed it was the baby’s birth certificate. Stan eyes bounced off the page and read the various information: birthdate, weight, parents, but he froze when he read the full name. Stan’s wide eyes questioningly studied Soos’ face.

“Are you…”, Stan felt his own throat tightening, crap. Come on, not in front of everyone “really?”, he asked. Soos gave a genuine nod and sniffed.

“I uh” Soos cleared his throat, “I was wondering, since Jacob doesn’t have one…if you wanted to be…. his grandpa?

There it was

Stan felt dizzy and took a small step back before remembering who was in his hands and regained his balance. Ford came to his side and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Stan decide not to look at his brother and chose to stare forward, then his eyes went back to Soos, who look deflated. Oh man. Stan was terrified, he didn’t want to say no and hurt Soos, but if he said yes….he wasn’t sure what made him so nervous. The entire concept sounded so alien to him, like he didn’t deserve the title. He always considered Soos, Melody and their son a part of his family. But to bare a title like “grandpa”, had to mean he had children that that children. That he was already a parent without his knowledge. It all felt so natural to want to lean into this and become part of this family like Soos wanted.

He heard something make a noise from beneath himself. Stan looked down at little Jacob, who was mid yawn. The baby’s mouth grew wide opens and inhaled, scrunching up his face and suddenly shut. Suddenly two tiny eyes opened for just a few seconds, enough time for Stan to make eye contact before Jacob shut them and got comfortable again

Everything was different now.

Stan didn’t notice how quiet the room had gotten nor the tears forming in his eyes. Stunned by beauty and overcome with pride and a sense of purpose. The pride he felt teaching Soos math, how to drive and attending his graduation all combined just looking at the perfect being in his arms. If he said yes, he would want everything that came with it. Stan lifted the birth certificate up to read the name again.

Jacob Stanley Ramirez

“Y-Yes”, he heard a shaken voice say, almost not realizing it was his own “of course”. He looked at Soos, tears in his eyes and a bright smile on his face. He still wasn’t sure if he deserved this, but Stan wanted it. He wanted it all. Why not indulge just this once? He gave the certificate to Ford and used his now free hand to pull Soos into a hug. Gently sandwiching his…..grandson in between him……and his son.

[alpacaparkaseok]

The Pact - Date #3

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 7.7k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: none, BUT THE FLUFF IS COMING DOWN FULL FORCE YA’LL

a/n: don’t forget, I taking your guys’ comments/reactions into account for this series, so please let me know what your thoughts are! of course, at the end we’ll really take a deeper look at all of the dates and what stood out the most, but I would love to hear from you about this one!! love you all, enjoy!

Date #3

series masterlist ∆∆∆ join the taglist

The more time has passed, the more you fully come to realize that if you have been that affected by two dates, you are in no way prepared for the five that remain.

Nope. Not one bit.

It was Thursday when Jungkook finally texted to check that you were free around eleven. Your heart leapt, finally. A date that you wouldn’t have to spend all day moping around waiting for.

So obviously, you were ready by 9. You know, just in case.

You’d been instructed to wear casual clothes, something that you rejoiced in. Donning your sweater with the word Harvard in thick blue letters spanning the front and a pair of skinny jeans, you felt right at home.

The boys never missed a chance to tease you about your Harvard sweatshirt, and for some reason they never believed your lie that you actually went there. Of course, that might be due to the fact that they were very much aware of your current schooling situation and it was most definitely not Harvard.

But hey...attending one of the top universities in South Korea wasn’t bad, either.

Currently you were perched on the end of your bed, partly due to the fact that if you went anywhere else you would most certainly just end up staring out the window at every car that passed by. Not wanting to look like a nosy neighbor, you’d confined yourself to your room to wait out the morning.

In the hours that pass, your thoughts are completely occupied by the two boys you shared the last couple of Saturdays with.

It would be a lie to say that you don’t replay the image of Taehyung standing in your doorway every night as you tried to sleep, his hair a fluffy mess and that cable knit sweater proving to be your doom.

Your thoughts were usually interrupted as you took your bracelet off and stared at it, imagining Hobi delicately placing each individual bead it it’s place. It’s when your hand burns with the memory of his gentle kiss on your palm that you finally set the bracelet down and let out a frustrated sigh.

Yeah...Jimin was wrong when he invited you to just think of these as nice, friendly dates.

He probably knew it, too.

“Ok,” you breathe out, closing your eyes and focusing on the rise and fall of your chest. “Just...enjoy it.”

Enjoy it you shall.

That’s the thing that carries you through the waiting, still just breathing in and out and mentally preparing yourself for all that awaits you today.

You get so carried away in your attempts to calm down that the knock on your front door comes before you realize how much time has passed. Taking one more steadying breath, you get up from your bed and amble down the hallway to the door.

Pausing for a moment, you realize that you truly have no idea who might be on the other side of that door. The thought makes you smile. You’ve always loved a good mystery.

Cracking open the door, you can’t help but smile as the figure before you has their back turned to you. At the sound of your quiet giggle, they turn around, eyes a little wide.

A nervous smile in place, Namjoon leans forward ever so slightly. Almost as though he’s being pulled in by your personal gravity. “Morning,” he says almost as an afterthought, his voice low.

“Good morning,” you respond, throwing the door open the rest of the way. “So you’re lucky number three?”

“Well, you know what they say.”

You busy yourself with grabbing your bag and double checking that you have everything. “What do they say?”

Namjoon shrugs, his nervous smile growing until it’s bordering on giddiness. “Third time’s a charm.”

Indeed.

Once you’ve ascertained that you have everything you’ll need (you made sure to replenish your mint stash earlier this week), you’re stepping out into the slightly brisk air and locking the door behind you.

The sound of keys jingling near your ear has you turning to face Namjoon, who wears an oversized, dark plaid shirt that’s open to reveal his black t-shirt beneath it. The picture of casual coolness, paired with his dark wash jeans and sneakers, the look is complete with the way his dimples poke out as he holds up the keys to your eye level.

“Guess who’s driving?” He teases in a sing-song voice, making you laugh as you swipe the keys from him. As the two of you descend the stairs toward the car, you tilt your head to the side.

“How did you get here?” Then, turning to him with wide eyes, “You didn’t drive yourself, right?”

He’s quick to shake his head, pointing out a car that’s turning around at the end of your street and slowly making its way back toward you two. “The guys dropped me off.”

The thought of Namjoon in a car with some of the boys and the rest trailing after them in a separate vehicle is endearing, while also hilarious. “All of them?”

“Yep,” he confirms. “Every last one of them.”

As the car draws nearer, you see the windows roll down and someone with familiar black, fluffy hair sticks their head out. Like a dog pile, another head hovers beside them.

Taehyung and Jimin.

Oh, and there’s Jungkook somehow managing to wiggle in between them.

“We apologize in advance, jagiya,” Jimin croons loudly with a teasing smirk. “At least try to enjoy yourself.”

You snort, clicking the button to unlock the car and laughing even harder when Hobi jumps at the sound of the horn. He sits in the passenger seat beside Jin, who drives. The two merely wave before mumbling something to each other that makes them laugh.

“Where’s Yoongi?” You ask, frowning as you do a head count and not finding him anywhere. In response, a pale hand coming from what must be the very back row of the car worms its way forward to the open window. You swear you can almost hear his disgruntled greeting, but it’s drowned out as Taehyung excitedly speaks up.

“Good luck trying to beat me, hyung,” he teases, shooting Namjoon a sweet smile that’s at odds with his teasing comment.

Namjoon just shrugs, utterly unphased as he follows you around the car and opens the drivers side with smooth precision. “Shouldn’t be too hard.”

This encourages a round of ooh-ing that only serves to make you laugh even as you tuck away the momentary competitive side of Namjoon. Calm, calculated, and - if you’re reading that steely look in his eyes correctly - utterly in the zone.

Oh, you’re definitely enjoying this way more than you should.

“Drive safe!” The boys shout out amidst jeering comments directed toward Namjoon and his lack of driving abilities. With a final wave, they’re speeding off down the street. Once they’ve disappeared from sight, you notice the way Namjoon’s shoulders relax. He hurries over to the passenger side, hopping in and buckling up before fiddling with his phone.

“So...where to?” You ask, buckled up and ready to go. You tap the steering wheel excitedly, already feeling hyped up from the short interaction with everyone.

You miss seeing them all together. There’s a reason why you’re friends with the entire group.

“I put the address into the car,” Namjoon explains. “It should give you directions as we go.”

Arching a brow at him, you don’t shift into drive just yet. “So I’m driving us there, but I don’t get to know what the end location is?”

Smiling softly, Namjoon nods. “Exactly. You’re so smart, have I ever told you that?”

Scowling, you press the green button that appears on the screen and a warm female voice instructs you to drive to the stop sign and turn left.

You hum, pondering the slightly sarcastic question. “I’m not sure. But that’s definitely a sign that you should tell me more often.”

“I’ll make note of that.”

With a glance at the screen, you see the estimated driving time. “We’re leaving Seoul?”

From your peripheral, you notice Namjoon’s worried expression. “Is that alright? We can find something to do around here, it’s just-”

“No,” you rush to reassure him. “I was just surprised, that’s all.” It won’t be a particularly long drive, just over an hour, but you certainly weren’t expecting that.

Something tells you that there are plenty more surprises waiting for you today.

It doesn’t take long before the two of you slip into an easy conversation, Namjoon relating his latest experiences in his efforts to add something eye-catching to his studio.

“Like what?” You ask. “I love your studio the way it is.”

Namjoon looks over at you, smiling softly. “Really? I don’t know...I just feel like something’s missing.”

“Well, we’ll keep an eye out for something today,” you promise, relaxing now that you’re on the freeway and in the flow of traffic. “Like, do you want something to hang up? Or something to go on your desk?”

He shrugs, taking a moment to roll his window down and close his eyes as it runs through his hair. “I already have a bunch of stuff on the wall, and if I put anything on my desk-”

“Right, you’ll spill on it.”

“Exactly.” You keep your eyes on the road, entirely missing the fond look he gives you.

“So basically, you don’t need anything.”

He huffs a sigh, rolling the window back up and sinking down into the seat. “No, I do, I just don’t know what.”

“Mmm.”

“Hey,” Namjoon cuts, giving you a dramatic glare. “Don’t mock me.”

Feigning innocence, you peek over at him. “I’m not!”

“Yah, just drive.”

“I am!”

Despite the bickering, you can’t fight the smile edging its way onto your features. A glance over at Namjoon shows that he’s having the same issue, his face turned away from you but failing to hide the silly grin he’s attempting to hide as his fingers curl at his lips. It’s a habit he’s had for as long as you’ve known him, one that often makes its way into many photos.

“Prepare to take exit 14,” the voice instructs, and you make your way over to the far lane, eyeing the looming sign that will announce what exit it’s for. Once the sign comes into view, you give Namjoon a puzzled look.

“We’re going to Anyang?”

It’s not that you have anything against the city, it’s just that...well, what is there in Anyang that isn’t in Seoul?

“See? Super intelligent.” It’s the only response you get from Namjoon, but it has you rolling your eyes in an effort to counter the butterflies that erupt in your stomach at the way he’s looking at you.

In a couple of minutes you’re turning onto a relatively quiet street, only a few random people mulling about, enjoying their weekend. Namjoon points out an entrance to a parking lot that you would have completely missed due to its hidden nature. Once you’re parked and dwarfed between the buildings surrounding the little lot, you jump out of the car and make a show of stretching your legs.

Namjoon mimics you, a loud yet satisfying yawn coming from him. “Hey, are you hungry now or are you good to wait a little while?”

You pause, internally wondering. “I think I’m good for a while.”

“Great.” Rubbing his hands together, he comes to stand beside you. “Let’s go, then.”

You fall into step beside him. “Woah, you still haven’t told me where- oh.”

The two of you have rounded a corner and now stand in front of a nondescript building. Its sage green paint is chipping a bit, giving it a rustic feel that is only accentuated by the gold lettering above the door.

Wanderers & Travelers

However, it’s not the homey feel or the tasteful name that has you stopping in your tracks. It’s what you see inside, through the large windows.

Without a single word, you step forward as though in a daze. The little bell above the door chimes as you walk in, announcing your arrival. And, as though the entire thing couldn’t get better, the scent hits you.

The smell of old and new books, some leather bound and some hard backed, dives into your senses and leaves you whirling.

The walls in here are painted some shade of sky blue, complementing the deep wood shelves. It’s quiet in here, the only sound being that of shuffling feet.

If you blink, you’re afraid it might all vanish.

“Oh! You’re here!”

Turning to your left, you see a woman with flecks of white in her hair, smiling warmly at you and Namjoon. If you’re being completely, honest, you’d nearly forgotten that Namjoon was there.

The woman descends the final few steps of the creaky staircase, keeping a friendly distance as she nods at the two of you. “You were right,” she remarks to Namjoon. Then, to you with a teasing smirk, “You look like you’ve never seen a bookstore before.”

You sputter for the right words. “I- yeah, but this-”

“Is no ordinary bookstore,” Namjoon finishes for you, a hand at your elbow. You can’t help but lean into his touch, momentarily forgetting the rows and rows of shelves just a few steps away as Namjoon involuntarily steps a little closer.

“Ah, right. Well, first thing’s first: I’m Choi Min-jee. And this is my bookstore,” she gestures to the endless rows of bookshelves, and you wonder for a moment how all of these can fit in the building. It looks so much smaller from the outside.

Min-jee motions for you to follow her, and she leads the two of you to the nearest bookshelf. “These books range in languages and age, you never know what you might find. This shop has been in my family for five generations now - we’ve collected our fair share of books and other antique items.” With a little wink, she steps back. “Take your time, and let me know if you have any questions. Oh, and the upstairs is open now.”

Namjoon perks up at this, looking over from where he’d pulled a book off the shelf. “Really? We’ll have to look up there!”

“Please do! I’m off to practice piano.” With that, she whisks away, leaving you to your own devices.

You stare after her in awe, mouth slightly ajar. It makes Namjoon chuckle quietly, he must know the feeling.

“I wanna be her when I grow up,” you whisper, earning a louder chuckle from the man.

“Same.” Namjoon heads deeper into the shelves, and you follow after him. He glances back at you over his shoulder. “This is my favorite place.”

“I take it you’re a regular?” You ask, eyes catching on a bright blue book with frayed binding. Pausing, you ease it from its spot. “Hm… ‘The Cottage by the Sea’.” You run my hand over the shiny inlay, a seashell glinting up at you. “Why do I feel like I just entered the world of ‘Little Women’?”

Namjoon snorts, wandering back over to you and gazing down at the book. He grabs the one that occupied the spot next to it on the shelf, the deep red absorbing in all the surrounding light. “You’re definitely Jo.”

“Really?” You ask, gently flipping through the first few pages and trying to find a publish date. “I always thought that I was more of an Amy.”

Namjoon looks appalled, tearing his eyes away from his book. “What? No. In what world are you Amy?”

“Hey! Don’t act like she’s a bad person,” You whine, bringing the book close to your chest. “She was just...trying to survive.”

Huffing loudly and obnoxiously, Namjoon heads over to the other aisle, peeking at you through the gaps in the shelf. “She got everything she ever wanted, without hardly having to ask for it. Are you telling me that you have everything you ever wanted?”

There’s a skylight above you, allowing the lazy afternoon sun to filter in and play with the lighter tones in Namjoon’s hair. He looks at you with his ferociously focused gaze, something that you had never squirmed under before but now find your cheeks burning as he doesn’t look away.

You sigh contentedly. “More or less. Look at me, I’m surrounded by books.”

Namjoon gets closer to the shelves, leaning down to be eye-level with you through the shelves. “So what’s missing?”

“Hmm?” You hum, getting a little lost as music starts up somewhere. You realize with a start that this must be what Min-jee meant by practicing piano, as the soft sound comes from somewhere hidden.

There’s a little smile on Namjoon’s face, just enough for a dimple to appear. “You said more or less. What are you missing still?”

Edging a little closer and nearly closing your eyes at the smell of leather, you’re tempted to reach through the shelf and poke at the little indent in his cheek. “Just your glasses, I think. I love it when you wear your glasses.”

The statement takes him by surprise, Namjoon’s dragon-like gaze dropping and a flush taking over his features before he steps back. “Hmph.” With that, he continues down the aisle, the red book still in his hands and the blue in yours. “I still think you would be Jo, though.”

“Why?”

The two of you match footsteps, languidly walking along the seemingly endless rows. You catch glimpses of him through the books, a soft dimpled smile on his face as he looks down at his feet. It’s enough to make your coy smile grow, and you clutch the book tighter to your chest.

Finally, Namjoon comes to a stop as another book catches his eye. You take the opportunity to round the corner and enter the aisle he stands in, feet carrying you closer to him. Just as you’re about to reach his side, he speaks.

“Jo is...well, for one, she’s a dreamer. And we both know you’ve got a lot of dreams in that head of yours.” He taps your forehead for emphasis, side-smile growing when you scowl. “But she’s a realistic dreamer. You’ve given up a lot for your dreams, but I believe that you’d leave it all behind if someone you loved was in need of you.”

You blink, unprepared for the genuine compliment.

“And,” Namjoon says breathily, sliding the book back into its place and turning on his heel to walk away. “You two share a tendency to be oblivious to others feelings for you.”

He keeps walking, leaving you to become a sputtering mess before launching yourself after him. “I- we what?!” You all but screech, wincing as you sound twice as loud in the empty shop. “I am not oblivious-”

With a triumphant smirk, Namjoon heads down a little slope that leads toward a sitting area. “Be honest with yourself. You wouldn’t have had any idea about the pact or anything if Jungkook hadn’t spilled it.”

“But that’s not my fault!” You defend, glaring defiantly at his back. “You guys had that under lock and key!”

Diving into another row, Namjoon looks contemplative. “Ok, that may be true. But tell me the truth: did you ever once suspect that...I don’t know, there might be something more going on? Even just once?”

You stand out in the main walkway still, frozen by his question. “Er…” Pausing to think, you squint down at the book still in your hands.

Of course there were moments that had your heart pumping a little faster and a blush rising to your cheeks. Movie nights always meant some form of cuddling, but you quickly just assumed that it was all part of the friendship. Good morning texts that made you sink back into your pillows with a lazy smile, or the little facts that one of the boys would remember about you always made you stop and wonder.

But you never actually entertained the idea. It all seemed too…

“Unrealistic,” you mumble aloud. When Namjoon looks at you quizzically, you walk down a few rows until something catches your eye. You delight in the fact that now he’s following you. “I guess I had little moments where I wondered, but it just seemed like wishful thinking.”

Stopping near the end of the row and looking up at the top shelf, you wiggle on your tip-toes trying to grab a book. Your fingers barely graze the spine of the book before a warm presence overshadows you and Namjoon’s fingers ghost over your own before tugging the brown book from its spot. Still pressed against your back, his light breathing makes the hair on the back of your neck tingle as he lowers the book into your waiting hands.

“Moments like this?” He whispers, hands coming to rest just above your hips.

Suddenly, you recall a moment from months before, when you’d been in a similar situation. The boys had invited you over for some breakfast on one of their rare morning’s off. You’d wanted some cereal, only to find the bowls on the very top shelf. Namjoon had come to your rescue, pulling the exact same move before awkwardly pausing and looking as though he’d wanted to say something. He hadn’t, and instead rushed out of the kitchen before you could even utter a ‘thank you’.

Turning around in his grasp, you can see that he wears a similar expression as before. This time, however, he looks determined to say whatever comes to mind.

With a quiet voice you whisper, “Who in their right mind puts bowls on the top shelf?”

Namjoon’s grip on your hips tightens as he throws his head back and laughs, the kind of laugh that sinks right into your bones. All you can do is watch him, feeling like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him. Perhaps it’s the first time you’ve ever allowed yourself to look freely.

“Ah, so you did notice,” he whispers back. “You acted like nothing happened, so I figured I was in the clear.”

With a roll of your eyes, you’re stepping out of his grasp and taking a look down at the new book in your hand. “With you, Mr. Kim, we’re never in the clear.”

He lets out a low hiss, but lets you walk away. Not like you realize he’s not following you anymore, you’re idly wandering around while thumbing through the mystery novel. It looks like it might be an original copy from one of your favorite authors. One that passed away in the 1950’s, but still stands out among the countless authors that have come after them.

You’ve made it down to the small sitting area, where a large fireplace is crackling.

“Huh,” you smile. As if this place couldn’t get any better. Plopping down on the couch, you let out a sigh at how the cushions sink and welcome you into their warm embrace. Setting the blue book off to the side, you open up the brown one and begin to read.

You’ve nearly completed the first chapter - knees tucked to your chest as you lean against the arm of the couch - when you hear footsteps approaching.

Expecting it to be Namjoon, you glance over your shoulder with a smile. It’s Min-jee, who returns the smile with a knowing look. You listen closely and realize that her piano practice must be over. Classical music plays over the speakers in the shop instead.

“Namjoon’s gone upstairs,” she explains, coming to adjust something in the fireplace. “He said something about finding an item for his studio.”

You close the book softly, stretching before sitting up straight. “What’s upstairs? More books?”

“No, we’ve expanded our antique selection, there’s an assortment of desks and chairs up there, among other things.”

Making an ‘o’ with your mouth, you get up. “This place is amazing, by the way.” You hold up the brown book with an excited expression. “I found this - I think it’s an original! How much is it?”

Min-jee makes her way over to you, smiling softly as she recognizes the book. “You’re a fan of this author too, huh? My grandad used to read these to me back before I had to start running the shop.” She offers you a fond look. “Oh, and Namjoon told me to put whatever you like on his tab. So don’t worry about it. Take the book.”

She must notice your shock, because she places a comforting hand on your shoulder and squeezes it gently. “He also told me that you might be hesitant to get anything because of that. But honestly, get it. And ‘The Cottage by the Sea’. That’s one of my favorites, actually.” Min-jee nods at the blue book with its golden seashell.

“Ah, he knows me too well,” you sigh. “This might be silly to ask, but...do you think it’s alright? You know, to just get them?”

Min-jee, to your eternal gratitude, doesn’t laugh at your question. Instead, she sees right through you, to the worry in your heart.  The last thing you want is to take advantage of any of the boys. “It would make him happy,” she responds, watching your reaction carefully. You immediately let out a sigh of relief, nodding and picking up the books.

“Alright,” you concede. “I’ll get them, then.”

“Great! I’ll take them up front and hold them for you, if you’d like.”

“That’s perfect.”

While she whisks away your books, you follow after her until you reach the staircase. She nods encouragingly, and you head up.

Clearing the stairs, it doesn’t take long to locate Namjoon. He’s standing in front of a large wardrobe, inspecting every inch of it. The sight makes you smile, enjoying the way he’s chewing on the inside of the cheek.

“Don’t tell me that’s what you’re getting for the studio,” you drawl, making your way toward him. He looks back at you, a wide smile interrupting his cheek chewing.

“I mean...no, but look at it!” He exclaims. “It’s beautiful, isn't it? Honestly, if I moved some things around, I could probably make it fit.”

You reach the wardrobe, marveling at the expert craftsmanship. “It’s gorgeous. But what would you even put in it? It’s not like you take all of your coats to the studio. And you want your trophies to be visible, don’t you?”

This thing must weigh a ton, the wood is thick and the hinges smooth. “Hmm...no, but I can think of something else I could hide away in here.” The way Namjoon glances over at you with a sly grin makes you stumble back, red rushing to your cheeks as you suddenly become preoccupied with a very old typewriter.

“What would that be?” You venture, running your fingers over the keyboard. You’re waiting for his answer, which you’re sure will be a single word - you. However, just as he’s opening his mouth and looking like he’s garnering the courage to say it, the creaky staircase announces someone’s arrival.

At first you think nothing of it, but Min-jee’s voice is loud. Loud enough that you know she’s trying to be heard.

“I told you, we don’t sell anything BTS related in this store.” She says, and you and Namjoon share a puzzled look.

A couple of voices respond, but one in particular stands out as she raises her voice. “I swear, I saw Kim Namjoon walking around in here just a few minutes ago!”

Their footsteps are growing closer, and you suddenly realize that this is Min-jee’s way of warning you two.

Rushing over to Namjoon’s side, you look around frantically. “Is there another way out?” You whisper. Clearly the staircase is blocked at the moment. When he shakes his head, you’re about ready to suggest causing a distraction but he suddenly gasps.

Quickly and quietly, he’s swinging open the wardrobe and nudging you inside, quickly following. You raise your eyebrows, mouth opening to ask him just how this is going to help anything, but he allows the door to swing shut and presses a hand against your mouth.

Back pressed against the back of the wardrobe and Namjoon looming over you, the two of you hardly dare to breathe as you strain to listen to what’s going on outside.

“I’m pretty sure I would know if he was in my shop,” Min-jee is saying, sounding much closer now. “And right now the upstairs is off-limits, so please-”

“Look, I know I must sound crazy, but I’m absolutely positive that I saw him in here. I was just outside and he went up the stairs! And now you expect me to believe what you’re saying?”

You keep your eyes trained on the thin opening where light is streaming in, trying to see what’s going on. Namjoon, however, shuffles a little closer, hand slipping from your mouth and staring down at you. He braces his hands on either side of your head, needing to bend over a little bit due to the small space.

“For the last time,” Min-jee defends, “the upstairs portion of this shop is closed. As you can tell, nobody is up here besides us. If you wish to continue this conversation, I would simply ask that we do it downstairs.”

You bite your lip, looking up at Namjoon and about to whisper something about how Min-jee deserves a raise. The words die on your tongue, however, when you finally catch sight of him.

Namjoon is slouching a bit, and you realize that his hands are on either side of your head. His hair is slightly mussed, from what you’re unsure. However, that’s not what has your breath catching in your throat.

He’s looking down at you in a way that suddenly makes you aware of just how small the wardrobe is, and has you mentally cursing yourself for coming up here in the first place. Namjoon is looking at you, looking at you in a way that you immediately recognize.

Like it’s the first time he’s allowed himself to.

You watch the way his eyes follow the way your throat constricts as you swallow, the way they trace the slope of your nose and the dip above your lip.

The voices fade away as Namjoon’s fingers feather through your hair, light enough to make your heart melt. He does so slowly, eyes reading your own in order to see if he’s somehow crossed a line that he shouldn’t have.

You, however, are sick of all these dumb lines and boundaries that have been set. Somehow, Namjoon must see that, because he’s opening his mouth and whispering out what he’s been thinking this entire time.

“You,” he mumbles as he watches the strand of hair he tucks behind your ear. Almost as though to verify that this is real, that it’s actually happening. “I’d tuck you away in here, and nobody would find us.”

Breathing has become impossible at this point.

“No prying eyes, no invisible lines to make sure I don’t cross,” he’s tracing the line of your jaw now, and you don’t miss the slight tremor in his hand. “Would you like that as much as I would?”

His eyes land on yours, eyebrows coming together as he awaits your answer. You would smile if you could, but you find that you’ve turned to putty at his touch. Instead, you slowly nod before breathing out, “Yes.”

That’s when you realize that Namjoon is just as tired of rules as you are. Namjoon, the dedicated leader that always makes sure everything is in order. Namjoon, who constantly forgets things like his phone and wallet, but never forgets to say please and thank you.

Namjoon, who leans impossibly closer until you’re closing your eyes for fear of going cross-eyed. His breath fans across your nose, acting as your only warning before his lips find yours.

Light as a feather against your mouth, Namjoon kisses you.

As you sigh against his lips, you suddenly understand why kissing was prohibited. Because right now, all that you can think of - every breath, every heartbeat - it’s all saying the same thing.

Namjoon.

Just as your hands find their way to his chest and bunching up the fabric, he’s jumping back with a gasp and stumbling through the door of the wardrobe. You see his wide eyes, but you’re too busy standing there completely frozen and praying that nobody is up here still.

He looks around frantically, but looks at you with utter horror as the same voice as before pipes up from downstairs.

“See! I’m telling you that someone is up there-”

“Oh! Did you see that? I think I just saw him taking the emergency exit!” Min-jee retorts, and you can picture her frantically pointing out the window in an effort to distract the girls. “Hurry! He looked like he was running!”

The bell above the door chimes, excited voices fading as the group exits the shop. However, their timely exit does little to soothe the raging heartbeat pounding against your ribs.

“I- I’m not supposed to do that,” Namjoon reminds himself aloud. “Please, I’m so sorry-”

“They’re gone!” Min-jee calls out, poking her head up as she ascends the stairs. She spots you still standing in the wardrobe. “Oh, so that’s where you were hiding. Anyway, I’ve locked up the front, so we shouldn’t be having any more trouble with that.”

You can only offer her a weak smile, Namjoon still staring at you with that horrible, guilt-ridden expression, which you’re dying to erase.

“Thank you,” you say when Min-jee begins to notice the odd silence. “We’ll be down in a second, I think.”

Namjoon nods along, finally looking away to check the time. “Actually, we’ve got a reservation,” your stomach flips at the thought of sitting through an entire meal with his guilty apologies, “is there a way we can sneak out of here without being seen?”

Min-jee blinks, looking between the two of you but not saying anything. “Ok...um, yeah. The back alleyway should be clear, it’ll lead to the parking lot.”

Finally stepping out of the wardrobe, you look back at it with a glare.

“So much for Narnia,” you mumble, closing the door.

ˆˆˆˆ

Min-jee quickly places your books in a bag - Namjoon ends up getting the red one as well - and offers it to you with a smile. Automatically you reach out for it, but so does Namjoon. The second your hands meet you can’t help but jump, and the bag falls to the floor.

“Oh no,” you whimper out, feeling sorry for the old books. Before you can lean down to get them, Namjoon’s swooping them up and keeping a firm grip on the bag. He mumbles out a soft, “sorry” before following Min-jee toward the back exit.

The two of you thank her profusely for the day, and you promise that you’ll return soon. There’s no way you can leave a place like that alone for very long. Namjoon smiles for a moment, looking pleased that he picked a good place. However, once he catches your eye, he’s back to chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Slyly sneaking down down the alleyway, it’s quiet between the two of you. No matter how hard you pinch yourself, your thoughts keep zoning in on the way Namjoon’s lips felt on yours...the way he looked at you just before he leaned in...how perfect everything had been until he’d come to his senses-

You’ve made it to the car, and you click the unlock button, jumping back as it honks. Man, you’ve got to get out of your head.

Namjoon hurries to set the bag in the backseat before rushing to the driver’s side, opening the door up for you with significantly less flourish than before.

Knowing Namjoon, it’s eating him up alive. And there’s no way you’re about to let a kiss - something to celebrate, in your opinion - ruin the rest of this date.

Especially when it may very well be the only one you get.

“Namjoon,” you say, walking slowly toward him. His eyes jump up to yours, and you can already see that he’s hard at work trying to pretend like everything is fine.

“We’re going to be about an hour early for our reservation,” Namjoon admits, running a hand through his hair and immediately trying to fix it after. “I’m sorry for rushing you out of there, I wasn’t thinking straight. You can go back in, if you want. I’ll wait out here until you’re ready-”

“Namjoon.” He quits his rambling, red cheeks somehow turning redder as you stop before him. “I wanted you to kiss me.”

At this, he lets the door fall shut. “You...did?”

Wanting nothing more than to dispel the awkward tension, you laugh. “Of course I did! I’d be an idiot if I didn’t! So please...it’s nobody’s fault. So what, you broke a stupid rule-”

“And I’ve hurt the guys in the process of breaking that rule,” Namjoon explains, looking at you with clear, pained eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t me regretting kissing you because- w-well, that’s not the point!” Leaning back against the car, you follow suit just as a large stormcloud blocks out the sun. It’s going to rain soon.

“Namjoon, you’ve all found ways to skirt around the rules in some way,” you confess, remember Hobi’s sweet hand kiss and Taehyung’s forehead kiss. “Sure, you actually broke the rule, but nobody is going to hate you for it. Nobody. Least of all me.”

He leans his head back, closing his eyes as he lets out a long breath. “It’s just, we all agreed to give you enough space to make a clear decision if you felt like you wanted to make one at the end of all this,” he confesses, not seeing the way your eyes widen. Oh. “And I’ve completely screwed that up.”

Sighing, you squint as a fat raindrop lands on your nose. “Well, we’re on a date, aren’t we? People sometimes kiss- I mean, honestly, we could have done a lot worse-” Namjoon chokes on his spit at that. “But if you need something to blame, please don’t blame yourself. Because I love this date, and as far as I can tell, the kiss only made it better.”

He peeks one eye open at you. “Really?”

“Really.” You shrug. “And see? I really am Amy! I always get what I want!” You don’t add the fact that that wasn’t quite true with Hoseok or Taehyung. “If anything, blame the wardrobe. Wardrobes are wacky, anyways.”

Namjoon snorts, rolling his eyes. “Blame the wardrobe? Really?”

“Yeah! Sometimes they transport you to Narnia, sometimes they mess with your common sense,” you give him a pointed look, which he avoids. “So if the boys get all upset about it, just tell them it was the wardrobe. I’ll back you up on it.”

Finally, Namjoon laughs. Like, the annoying little hyena laugh that he hates but you secretly love. And when he looks back down at you and opens up the door, he doesn’t look so upset about it.

“Be honest, would you have rather gone to Narnia or been stuck in there with me?”

You feign annoyance. “Ugh, just get in the car.”

From the way your stomachs were rumbling and the rain was pouring, the two of you decided to bag the reservation. It was for some posh outdoor restaurant in Seoul that Namjoon pretended to be excited about.

Which is exactly how you ended up going through the McDonald’s drive thru and bringing it back to your place.

“Aren’t you on a diet or something?” You ask around your fries, eyes not leaving the television screen. The two of you had decided on Gone With the Wind, completely forgetting just how long it was.

Namjoon makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, taking a swig of his drink. “Yeah, something like that. Today’s my cheat day, though.”

“Aw, you decided to spend your cheat day with me?” You tease. Namjoon rolls his eyes, finally deciding that maybe you really are Amy from Little Women. However, he can’t fight the feeling that he’s the Laurie to your Jo.

Not that he’ll be telling you that anytime soon. He’s certainly done enough today.

“More like our date happened to fall on my cheat day,” he bites back. “And I heard that they have really good cheesecake at that restaurant we bailed on.”

You hesitate before taking another bite of your food. “Should we have gone? They probably would’ve given us our food to go if we didn’t want to sit under the umbrellas. I feel bad, you made reservations and everything.”

Namjoon shrugs. “No, this is way better.” He holds up his McFlurry for emphasis. “They even had the cheesecake McFlurry back in season! Coincidence?”

“I think not!”

You both chuckle before falling back into the companionable silence you’d been in before. Over the course of the drive back to Seoul, you’d taken your time, stopping at a handful of little parks along the way. Namjoon had imitated the ducks before realizing how silly he looked, then hiding behind his hands for a solid five minutes before he could look you in the eyes again. Overall, it had been calm and relaxing.

As you watch Scarlett O’Hara flirting it up with different suitors on the screen, you can’t help but wonder if that’s you.

Sure, Gina told you back at the haunted house to just enjoy it. Chances are it was all just a phase, anyways. There was all of this romantic tension between you and the boys that would naturally fade away as their curiosity diminished after their dates.

At least, that’s what you assumed. However you’re quickly coming to realize that you’re a little out of depth here.

“You alright over there?” Namjoon asks, pulling you from your thoughts. “You have your thinking face on.”

You blink. “I have a thinking face?”

“Of course,” Namjoon replies as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You gonna tell me what’s got you so stressed?”

“No,” you say a little too quickly. “I’m just...thinking about the movie.” Not entirely a lie.

You know he won’t push it if you don’t want to talk about it, but you take a little bit of enjoyment in the way his lip pouts out. “Alright, if you say so.”

Only a few more minutes pass before he speaks up again, sounding a little hesitant. “You know that this is a long movie…”

“Oh, should we end it here?” You ask, a little disappointed because you were just getting to one of your favorite parts. “You don’t need to feel like you have to stay-”

“No, not that. I’m gonna finish the movie. It’s just,” he wipes his fingers off on a spare napkin before scooting a little closer to you. “Long movies call for cuddling, don’t you think?”

You nearly choke on your saliva. “You- you, as in Kim Namjoon, want to cuddle? You’re into cuddling?”

He laughs, tugging on your arm until you give in and collapse against his side. You hope that your content sigh isn’t too noticeable when he drapes an arm around your shoulder. “It just depends sometimes. But yes, I am. At the appropriate times.”

“Ah, and long movies-”

“Are the epitome of the appropriate time,” he explains, lightly pinching your arm when you let out a wry laugh.

“Hey!” You cry out, only to be shushed by him.

“Shhh, I’m trying to watch this.”

You just can’t find it in you to be annoyed.

You’re asleep before the film is over, despite the fact that the sun barely went down. Something about having a full stomach and leaning your head on Namjoon’s shoulder just lulled you right to sleep.

You stir a little when Namjoon fidgets, pulling his phone out to call someone. His voice is deep and quiet, trying not to wake you.

“Hey, can you pick me up now?”

Despite your half-asleep state, you crack a smile. It’s quiet, but you can hear a familiar voice on the other side of the phone.

“Yeah, I’m close to there right now. Be there in a couple minutes. You’re at her apartment, right?”

“Thanks. Yeah, she’s conked out on the couch.”

There’s a laugh ringing through the phone. “Cute. Make sure she rests up, she’ll need it for our date next week.”

Namjoon sighs, not quite annoyed but not exactly pleased, either. “Yah, just hurry over.” He pauses for a moment. “Do you think I should wake her up to say goodbye?”

“Your call. But I mean, it’s not like you’re gonna give her a kiss goodbye. If she’s that tired, I’d just let her sleep.”

Your cheeks involuntarily turn red, and you can only imagine the way Namjoon looks right now. It’s his silence that gives him away.

“Hyung...what-”

“Text me when you get here,” Namjoon says, and suddenly the call ends.

Oh, he’s in for it tonight.

Stretching and trying to look like you totally weren’t just eavesdropping, you crack open your eyes to see Namjoon looking down at you with an amused expression.

“I would tell you that you missed the ending, but something tells me you’ve seen it before,” he drawls.

You chuckle breathily, yawning as you stretch your arms over your head. “Yeah, a couple of times.”

“I’m about to head out,” Namjoon begins, back to chewing on the inside of his cheek. “But thank you for going out with me. I seriously...it was just the best.” He smiles softly, and you wish you could have a picture of it.

Instead, you opt for nuzzling back into his side. “Aren’t I supposed to be the one thanking you? It was great, Namjoon-ah. I’ll have to read that book you got some time.”

He hums, returning the sentiment. “Yeah, we’ll do a book swap.” His phone lights up, but before you can see who it’s from, he’s snatching it up and jumping up from the couch. “They’re here.”

It’s tempting to not resort to begging him to stay a little longer - if only for the sake of his warmth which is quickly fading as he retreats to the door. However, you only pad after him, stopping him before he reaches the door.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his chest. “Tell everyone I say hello.”

“I will.” And with a rush of cool air, he’s out the door.

Gone, leaving you to stare blankly and wonder what just happened today.

And worse yet, what’s yet to come.

main masterlist

again, I’d love to hear from you! ESPECIALLY BECAUSE THINGS ARE ESCALATING!! thoughts, what you liked, what you didn’t, what’s been your fav so far...general screaming, it’s all great. THANK YOU!!!

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[artnigth]

Migraines Part 3 (Final)

Took longer that I expected to finish this but I made it! This is the final part of this four day project of mine! Enjoy!! 

MIGRAINES PART 3:

It was a lovely spring day, the flower were blooming, bees buzzing, and the fair had just moved into a lovely small-ish town in the middle of Oregon. The fair brought hundreds of shows and games with it, among those hundreds of shows were The Aquatos, a family of acrobats with a taste for danger. Their booth was up and running, the show was about to start. A thirteen-year-old Dion was waiting in the backstage area of the Aquatodome. His legs shaking, his stomach turning and the world was starting to spin. He wasn’t nervous though, he had performed for way bigger audiences in other cities. It was the whispers, voices echoing on his mind, scaring him of the gibberish they were saying. This happened every once in a while but never this strong or whenever his family was about to perform. This made him panic. Frazie and Raz, who were nine and seven years old, were stretching with Donatella. Agustus was checking the nets and safety measures to make sure nothing went wrong. While Nonna was looking after the two youngest kids in the family, Mirtala who was almost three, and Queepie who was just six months old. “Okay Aquatos! Everyone go to your positions were starting this show!”- Donatella sounded determined and excited, like always. Dread filled his system as he walked into the stage alongside two of his siblings, the whispers becoming louder with each step, so much his ears started to ring. Donatella’s voice becoming muted, the world spinning and his skin becoming pale. Nevertheless, the show started.

The show was going well enough, the Aquatos pirouetted and performed like they had all done ever since Dion had memory. Then the final trick of the show rolled around “The Aquato Tower” the voices claimed all of Dion’s attention, he tried his best but the sounds around him became muted, he was standing on his father's shoulders who was standing on his mother's feet who was upsidedown. Dion was balancing Raz on his head, and Raz was supporting Frazie with his arms as she stood upsidedown. Sweat dripped down Dion’s forehead, his head ached enough with the voices, but with his two younger siblings on top of him, the pain became almost unbearable. Now came the final part of the trick that would close the show. Frazie jumped and landed all the way to the right, Raz flipped on his head and proceeded to jump off, landing right next to Frazie. Dion’s turn, his stomach was up on his throat, his mind was breaking and his world was becoming a hurricane of colors and shapes. But he still pulled through, Dion climbed into his father’s head and he jumped. Spinning on the air Dion lost focus for a couple of seconds the feeling of gravity pulling him to the ground snapping him back to reality, Dion landed on his feet right next to Raz. But the world didn’t stop spinning, the voices didn’t stop and his throat threatened to spill all his lunch on the stage. “THANK YOU FOR COMING!!”- his mother’s voice broke his daze, and along with his family, he bowed down and walked back into the backstage. Dion fell on his knees, his breathing unbalanced and too fast for someone his age. His father carried him all the way to the family's caravan and placed the boy on his wore down bed and helped him breathe as Dion passed out. 

Hours passed and in the middle of the night Dion woke up. He saw four of his five siblings sleeping peacefully around him. His youngest sibling was obviously in his cradle that was placed in the living room of the caravan. Dion snuck out of the room to go to the bathroom, stopping in front of his parent's room. The muffled voices of his parents leaking through the door. Dion got closer curious about what they could be arguing about at this hour. 

 “Don’t be ridiculous, he can’t be!” said his father with indignation on his tone.

 “It could be! Augustus, my love. Neither of us knows how the curse could evolve with time. Your mother isn’t explaining anything and Dion was completely fine this morning. He described voices in his head, he could be suffering from a worst version of your family’s curse.” His mother was scared, even though she wasn’t an Aquato by blood the curse could still work on her, though no one except Nonna knew for sure. “Think about it, it’s exactly the type of trick those dammed fortune tellers would pull. Cursing a bloodline to die in water and then turning all generations that follow into people like them. Making the presence of the curse unforgettable, and cursing said children with nightmarish torments, like what’s happening to-

Dion ran down the stair, he wouldn’t let the end of that sentence haunt the rest of his life. He grabbed a bag and began to pack food, water, and some medicine. He finally knew what he was, part of a curse to his family. Well, he wasn’t about to help that fucking curse kill his whole family. Even if it meant never seeing Nonna, his parents, or his siblings ever again, he wouldn’t allow it. Tears were building up in his eyes, he brushed them away with his sleeve. He couldn’t afford to make any noise or to break down at that moment. 

In a hurry Dion let a bottle of water fall on the floor of the living room. He froze, waiting for someone to catch him, for someone to show up and do something to stop him. 

Nothing…

With a sigh, Dion picked up the bottle from the ground and continued his way to the door. “Waaah?” a high-pitched voice sounded behind Dion, Queepie was awake. His small hands rising to try and grab Dion not realizing how far away he really was. Dion turned to look at his youngest brother. His innocent eyes reflecting Dion’s miserable expression. Turning away was hard but Dion barely managed. Queepie saw his oldest brother turning away and started to cry. Queepie was a baby, he was awake and Dion was the only person around. So at the sight of him leaving the baby started to cry. With a hand on the door Dion dropped his bag and pushes it under the small sofa they had. He made his way to the cradle and picked up his brother, trying to calm him down. Eventually, Dion started to softly cry alongside his brother hugging him tight and letting the night pass. Quietly promising to do whatever he could to fix himself, to keep his family together no matter what. 

 .

 .

 .

 .

 .

 .

Four years had passed since that secret incident, it was a summer morning. Dion and the rest of his siblings were woken up by Mirtala’s sobbing. The little six-year-old held a piece of paper to dear life, and Frazie noticed Razputin was nowhere in sight. “Tala what´s wrong?” Dion stood up to check on Mirtala, half asleep but still very much concerned. Mirtala showed him the note, still bawling her eyes out. He took the note and started to read. Every word from that letter felt like a punch in the gut mixed with a stab in the heart. When he finished he felt numb. In such shock that the concept of his little brother running away to who knows where hadn’t been fully processed. 

“What does it say?!” Frazie said while shaking him out of his daze. Rage was the only feeling he could suddenly feel, he handed Frazie the letter and made his way outside before he took it out on his other siblings. Going down the stair he listened as Frazie screamed from their room out of, rage? sadness? He didn’t know and he couldn’t help anyway so why should he care? When Dion was finally in the living room he proceeded to ignore his parent’s questions and just ran outside. 

 Dion grabbed a stone and threw it into oblivion, doing the same thing with every other rock he found in the valley they had temporarily settled to rest. 

 Tears ran down his face the more rocks he threw, sadness and grief mixed with his rage, the voices coming back as a result. It had been months since he had heard those whispers, he thought he had finally fixed himself. But now they were back and he felt hopeless. He fell to his knees and just sobbed. He failed on the one thing he wanted to make sure he didn’t. One piece of his family was gone and they didn’t even get to know why. Razputin never mentioned where he was going, just that he was done and couldn’t take it anymore. His mother slowly walked out of their caravan and went to check on him. Her eyes red made it obvious she had been crying as well. She knelt next to him and hugged him as he continued to cry in her arms.

 .

 .

 .

 .

Now he was walking with Gisu in the Forgetful Forest at night, her scarf was placed on his shoulders and they were still holding hands. Gisu’s hair was a pulled-back mess, the only thing keeping it from tangling was her now loose ponytail. His hair wasn’t much better, his ponytail was holding it together but his bangs were a curly mess hanging in front of his face. His eyes were red, he had finally stopped crying, but the tear marks were still fresh on his face. Gisu’s skateboard was following them not far behind, cracks showing in its surface. The whispers were still there, they weren’t leaving this time and Dion knew that. They walked all the way in silence and Dion already suspected that Gisu would probably not want to see him ever again after this mess. The idea almost brought him to tears once again. They were reaching the limit of the forest to the campgrounds where his family was located. Dread built up in him as he saw the people who were there. His mother sitting on the floor being comforted by his father, Frazie was comforting Queepie and Mirtala was checking on Nonna as she sat on a bench looking concerned. Guilt crept into his mind since he just killed his grandmother’s boyfriend. And that was a really weird thought.

 At the sight of his family, Dion stopped walking, stoping Gisu with him. “What’s wrong?” she said in a soft tone. “I can’t… Not after what I did.” He sounded altered, the events of that afternoon coming back to his mind in a painful flash. “C’mon I’m sure your family will be glad that you’re okay. And if something happens I’ll cover your back!” The same soft smirk that she met him with in the clear was placed on her face. That cursed smirk always managed to comfort Dion, he had no idea how. “okay…” They moved forward towards the light from outside the forest. And for the first time in four years, Dion wishes he had actually left on that spring night.

Never has Dion been tackled into a hug by Frazie. His sisters arms crushing his ribcage. “YOU IDIOT, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!! QUEEPIE THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD” Her tone made it obvious that it wasn’t just Queepie who thought that. “I’m sorry Frazie” he hugged her back softly, too tired to come up with a snarky response. Dion looked past Frazie and met Queepies tearful stare. “I’m sorry Queepie.” His youngest brother tackling them both in another hug. “DION AQUATO!!” Augustus’ voice rumbled through the campgrounds, his tome mixed enough that his emotions were impossible to tell. Both of the Aquato parents run and tackle three of their children, by this moment Mirtala quietly joins the hug. 

 “DION!!!” Raz came out of nowhere and kicks his brother in the knee, hard enough to make his presence clear but soft enough to not actually hurt him. Joining his family in the group hug even if for only a second. 

 Nonna stayed close but didn’t join the hug. Ford was nowhere to be seen. Gisu stood at the boundary of the forest glad that this situation didn’t backfire. “Son, why didn’t you tell us?”Augustus’ voice had calmed down and was very concerned. “I… what do you mean?” Dion was confused but he got what his father meant. “Ford ended up landing here and told us everything” Donatella was clearly tired since they had been looking Dion for hours. “… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” Dion started to cry again, Gisu wondered if he needed a glass of water since he had been crying so much in the last couple of hours. “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t… Nonna I’m so sorry…”

 This took everyone by surprise, why Nonna specifically. He scared all of them half to death after all. “Dion explain yourself.” Frazie was paniking a little. Because, well, Dion disappeared for an entire afternoon. Then Ford finds him and gets thrown all the way to the campgrounds. And finally, Gisu, who looks like she just survived a tornado, finds him broken and desperate. “I… I… I killed Ford cruller…”

Silence 

“What?” everyone said in unison. What did he just say? Killed Ford cruller… “Oh, Dion… You didn’t kill Ford cruller. As I said Ford landed here and told us everything. I don’t think he could have told us you were lost if he was dead.” 

 “What?” Dion was dumbfounded. He should have asked Gisu… He should have definitely asked Gisu. All this time… Literal hours of unending misery, and he didn’t even kill the guy. “Are you sure? A hundred percent sure?” 

 “Unless I’m a ghost their pretty sure, boy.” Ford cruller appeared from the forest and stood next to Gisu. “By the way Razputin, I might be back at my prime as a psychic but I’m still sixty-two years old. I can’t suddenly start sprinting out of nowhere.”

 “I didn’t kill anybody… Good god, I’m the worst.” The Aquatos finally separated the massive group hug and let Dion make his way to Ford. “Agent cruller I’m so sorry for… throwing you all the way here from the forest. And for screaming at you.” Dion meant this, he felt guilty not just for what he did to Ford but for what he did to everyone. “It’s okay boy, I understand. Things are obviously still tense and it’s fine, you’re a teenager I know how hard it can be. Especially as a psychic. Which speaking of...” Ford reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cloth bag. Opening the bag, there were five small purple rocks. Psitanium. Cruller took one out of the bag and placed it on Dion’s hand. “Now focus your mind on this little piece of psitanium. Think of nothing but this little piece.”

 Dion did as he was told, focusing all of his attention on that little piece. The constant whispers fading into the back of his mind, and for the first time in the whole day, Dion felt relief. But now, he needed to face the music. He was truly a psychic and this was his life now. “Did the voices stop?” Asked Ford. “Yes… They’re gone…” 

“Well, here you go.” Ford handed Dion that little bag. “If you or any of your siblings have an issue with their abilities. You can use one of those bad boys to help and dull them down a little.” Dion was speechless, he felt no words would be able to convey how many mixed feelings he had at that moment. “thank you…”

“Mom, can we have dinner now?” Queepie broke the silence. Leave it to a toddler to break the awkward silence. “Yes Queepie, we can have dinner now…”

 Everyone sighed and began to move towards the caravan, with Ford, Dion, and Gisu staying behind. “Gisu, Ford would you like to stay for dinner?” Augustus’ voice was kind of tense but it was mostly kind. “Actually dad… I think Gisu needs to leave. We’ve been taking too much of her time.” Dion’s voice was soft, not rude at all. Gisu knew that. “Yeah… Thank you for the offer but I need to get back home before Sam locks me out.” Gisu understood and started to walk out of the campgrounds. Dion following behind. “I’ll go with her to the bus stop, I’ll be back soon. I promise.” 

 .

 .

 .

 .

 The campgrounds were left behind them as they walked back to the Motherlobe. They once again walk in silence, an awkward silence this time. Gisu’s scarf was still over Dion’s shoulders. A couple of steps more and she’ll be gone, on a bus to the nearest town over for the night. Dion had so much to say and so little time. 

 “I’m sorry” 

 “For what?”

 “For today, for everything.”

 “Everything?”

 Dion fell silent. This is what he needed to do. After all she did for him, apologizing was the least he could do. “Calling you in the morning to hang out just to dip last minute, almost throwing you into oblivion in the forest, annoying you about my stupid psychic theories… and everything else…” Dion was calm, trying to mentally prepare himself for Gisu’s response. “It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize” “Yes I do! I wasted your time with my stupid crisis. You don’t deserve to be bothered with my issues…” Dion was determined to make his point clear. This was one part of his life he never wanted to regret. “… If I’m here is because I want to be, no one forced me to stay and wait for you. No one forced me to look for you, I wanted to because I care about you, Dion.” Her tone was warm and sad. Gisu’s mind was more at peace about what happened than Dion’s, she knew what her objective was in this whole situation. She just wanted Dion to be okay and she trusted his family to make sure he gets the treatment he needs. 

 They were now on the Motherlobe’s bus stop. The bus would arrive shortly. Dion took Gisu’s scarf and placed it on her shoulders in silence. He grabbed her hair and fixed it into her typical ponytail. He made his way to her bangs and fixed their shape pulling them out of her face. Both of their cheeks tuning a litte red from embarrassment during the process. In the end, Gisu looked like she did at the beginning of the day. “Thank you. For everything.” “What do you mean by everything now?” Gisu said in between giggles. “Just… everything.” 

The bus came to a stop in front of them, the doors opening and the conductor not minding the two teenagers who were having a moment. “I guess you need to go now…” Yeah…” Gisu made her way to the bus and stepped on the entrance. Stopping for a moment and turning around. She pushed Dion's hair out of his face and leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. Dion was starstruck as he watched Gisu back away and the bus leave the stop heading back to the road. His face slowly turned red and he realizing that he needed to go back to his family. A tough night of conversations was ahead of them. But he knew that maybe tomorrow would be a better day. Tomorrow, he would work his best to be better. 

[fbfh]

here’s to always finding each other

pairing: percy x gn child of calliope reader

wc: 1.6k

warnings: percy kisses reader following a prior agreement that they don’t remember but it’s 100% consentual, you work retail, a hell yeah, memory loss, I think that’s it

summary: You didn’t really expect to have to spend your entire eight hour shift organizing shoe wax any more than you expected your fictional crush from middle school to be real and your boyfriend. Only one of those happened (and the shoe wax was still very disorganized when you left).

song rec: this lofi mix, boba manifesto - chris flemming (mostly as a joke but it slaps)

a/n: i am wOrKiNg oN tHiNgS!!!!!! It’s going well!!! expect some fun surprises soon!!!!!!!!!

Crouched down on the ground, rearranging an end cap of shoe wax in the men’s department wasn’t really what you thought being a grownup would be like as a kid. You can’t complain too much, the pay is pretty good and working conditions are decent - as much as they can be in retail. You stand up to check your progress (and stretch your legs) and notice that guy is still there. He’s been hovering around the athletic shirts and pants for a while, and he keeps checking his phone and looking around. You’re sure he’s probably just waiting for someone, but you’re considering asking if you can help him find anything. 

He has a vaguely familiar energy, and your stomach drops for a moment, hoping you don’t know him from school or something. God, that would be a nightmare. That’s happened to you once or twice, bumping into someone you went to school with, and it’s always as bad as you expect. 

‘You know what,’ you think, trying to see if you can fit the last few containers of wax on the shelf without making them topple over, ‘he’s probably fine. If he needs help he’ll ask for it.’ 

You go back to scanning and adjusting the prices of the clearance shoe polish - the company had changed their packaging recently, so it’s out with the old and in with the identical - but you still can’t shake the feeling of familiarity. 

He turns around, holding up an orange shirt that says ‘go for it’ in a ridiculous font, and you get a glimpse of his face. 

You crouch back down so he won’t catch you staring, and the realization dawns on you. He looks a lot like Percy Jackson from the books you read in middle school. Or was it high school? Everything between 6th grade and high school graduation is kind of blurry and confusing in your memory. Man, you should really re-read those, you heard there was a TV series in the works and you want to remember all the details for when it comes out. You’re a little surprised at how nervous that revelation makes you, like the feeling when you’re a kid going to a theme park and you can see the roller coasters as you pull into the parking lot. Weird. Anyway, it’s not the first time you’ve seen a customer who looks like a character from something. One time you saw someone who you swore looked just like Pidge from the Voltron reboot that came out a few years ago, and a coworker saw a girl who looked like an anime character she loves… Raka something? Her name sounded like gravity, but that wasn’t it. You shrug, making a mental note to ask her about it later. 

You stand up once again to take one final look before you move onto the next end cap, and see that the guy is standing next to you. You look up at him, and all those weird feelings of excitement and something close to anticipation amplify, as you get a closer look at him. He really, really looks like Percy Jackson. Like if the Viria art was a real person. 

“Uh… hi, can I help you find anything today?” You ask, snapping out of your daze and into your customer service voice. He takes a second before answering, and you’re a little unnerved by the way he’s looking at you; warm and intimately, like he’s known you for years. 

“No,” he replies, a dreamy tone to his voice, “I’ve got everything I need.” You’re pleasantly surprised and a little freaked out that he even has the accent. Seriously, if he’s not already, this guy should really get into cosplay. Also, is he flirting with you? He seems to realize what he just said, and backtracks slightly. 

“Actually, um, I was wondering if you could help me out with something over here,” he says, and you agree, in your signature chipper tone. He guides you to a table covered in various sweatpants behind a mirror. 

He glances around again, and you have to ask. 

“You know, if you’re having trouble finding someone we can-”

“Walkie customer service to have my group meet me at the front desk.” He finishes seamlessly. 

“It’s not my first time at the rodeo,” he chuckles, and you get the feeling there’s more meaning behind what he’s saying, like an inside joke you’re not a part of. 

“Oh… yeah.” you say, and he can sense your surprise, “How did you…” you trail off, and he can sense the silent question in your voice. He lets out a breathy chuckle, cheeks flushed pink.

“Like this.” 

He catches your face in his hands, and presses his lips to yours. Your eyes widen in shock, mostly at the fact that you don’t feel threatened by his presence at all. You’re shocked at how comfortable you feel around him, how you feel in your bones that you’ve known him for years when the logical side of your brain is telling you that you first saw him ten minutes ago. He pulls away, searching your eyes for… something. 

“Uh…” you glance away, brow slightly furrowed, then back up at him, “what the fuck?” 

His expression softens, and he says gently, “Give it a minute.” 

You’re about to ask him to give what a minute, when a barrage of memories, feelings, people you don’t think you’ve ever met but seemed to be best friends with knocks you off your feet. You try to take in a breath, but the air in the room seems to have taken a temporary vacation from your lungs. 

You look up at him, eyes flared in understanding and shock. He mutters something in confirmation. Someone yells nearby, and you both look over to an adolescent boy asking his mom why he can’t wear neon basketball shorts to school. Percy looks back over at you.

“Is there somewhere a little more-” the mom starts arguing back and forth with her son at a louder volume, and he continues, “private… where we could talk?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll… I’ll get somewhere.”

A few minutes later, you’re sitting across from each other on two step stools in one of the stock rooms. You’re still surprised at how easily you had lied to your boss that your long distance boyfriend showed up a few weeks early after over a year of not being able to see each other, and you needed a moment to catch up. She had agreed readily, asking that you tell her when you’re ready to get back to your tasks. 

“I’m sorry about that,” he starts, snapping you out of your train of thought, and you look up at him, “I never would have kissed you without asking, but you made me promise last time that the next time you lose your memories I would get them back to you as fast as I can.” 

“Uh, it’s okay, I feel like I remember talking about that.” Your memories are still fuzzy, but coming back sporadically.

“It can take a few days for them to come back fully.” He adds. 

The most surreal part of this is you remember vividly what happened in the books - because you lived through it. You hold back a giddy laugh bubbling up.

“So…” you begin, and he looks at you, his gaze warm, “it’s all real?” you breathe the words, almost afraid of an answer. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, looking away briefly, overwhelmed that you’re with him once again.

“The short version is, since your godly parent is Calliope, you sometimes get sent to other worlds. You kind of have to hop scotch from one place to another, like getting a goldfish used to a new bowl of water. The mist - or sometimes,” he glances up, pointedly and irritable, “other factors - usually take away a lot of your memories. They say it’s to make the transition easier, but who knows. Anyway, there are these waypoints, kind of like a time loop that you hang out in until you’re either ready to leave or one of us finds you first.”

“So this…” you motion around to the rows of cardboard boxes filled with plastic cups and paper towels. He nods and you let out a laugh of relief that you really won’t have to work here long term. 

“As soon as you’re ready we should probably head out to camp. It’s gonna be a bit of a drive.” 

“Wait, it’s all like… here? Like in this world?”

“Yeah,” he smiles again, once more sending butterflies through your chest. 

You let out a disbelieving, excited laugh.

“Alright. Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.” 

Before you can get up, he takes your hand in his. He watches his fingers skim back and forth for a minute before looking up at you. 

“You know that I’ll always find you, right?” there’s an overwhelming torrent of emotions he’s somehow managing to convey through his eyes. 

“It doesn’t matter where you go, or how long you’re gone, or if we even remember each other. I will always find you.” His hand comes up to your cheek for the second time today, and your head tilts into his embrace automatically. You somehow trust him more than anyone or anything else right now. You nod gently.

“I do.”

He glances away again, cheeks flushing red, and he sighs, kissing your forehead. 

You get up and head towards the exit together, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder.

“How about we get some bubble tea once we’re in the city?”

“Oh hell yeah!” 

You don’t remember the last time you had bubble tea, but it sounds really, really good right now. 

[slippinmickeys]

A Sequel: Amazon Archeologist/Scientist AU, Part 2:

You can read on AO3 here.

1. “How does it feel to have cured cancer?” asked Kathy Lee. Scully couldn’t take her eyes off the rim of the host’s wine glass; it was smeared with lipstick, and the wine contained therein had legs, running down the bell curve of the glass in thin amber stripes.

It was oddly, surreally quiet on the unnaturally blazing stage -- multiple cameras pointing at them, a team of professionals sitting in dead silence in the dark spread out below.

“I only wish I’d done it sooner,” Scully said, going off script a bit. “I think of the people that died while we were still searching, still researching, while the studies were being checked and… I just wish I’d found it sooner.”

The host’s face softened, and she reached forward and put her hand over Scully’s on the arm of the chair where it was resting. She gave it a squeeze and Hoda took over, “Up next, the group BTS is going to sing us their latest single!”

There was a dull bell that rang off to Scully’s right and the stage manager stepped forward, headphones clomped over his ears, his mic slung low around his jaw.

“We’re clear!” he called, “Sixty seconds!”

The show would be cutting to a co-host standing at a stage set-up outside 30 Rockefeller Center. Scully reached up to unhook the mic attached to her lapel, and a trio of sound technicians descended on her. In ten seconds, she was relieved of all equipment, and she was left swaying in the funnel of the Fresnels on the too bright stage.

“You did great,” she heard from her left, and the show’s host winked at her, and retook her hand, leading her to the dim cool just off stage.

She found Mulder standing before her once her eyes adjusted, just outside the reach of the stage lights, looking nervous and out of place, his hands clasped behind his back. He was wearing a turtleneck and a suit coat, looking every inch the tenured professor.

“And who’s this?” Kathie Lee asked, looking at Mulder brightly.

Scully shook herself, trying to remember her manners. It wasn’t always easy, having spent so much time in the field.

“Uh, this is Mulder,” she said, “Dr. Fox Mulder. My, um… my fiancé.”

The television host smiled warmly at Mulder and clasped his hand.

“I’ve heard the story of your meeting,” Kathie Lee said, “It’s a real pleasure.”

“I’m a big Giants fan,” Mulder said, giving her hand a firm shake, “the pleasure’s all mine.”

The host winked at him and then stalked off, and Scully exhaled, falling a little into Mulder’s side.

“I’m glad that’s over,” she said.

“The price you pay for changing the course of human history,” Mulder mumbled, squeezing her into his side and kissing her hairline. He led her off the soundstage and into a waiting limo.

2. It had been a whirlwind since the Nobel Prize Award ceremony in Stockholm. It was cold in Sweden in December — especially to a person who’d spent years in the humid jungles off the beaten paths of the world, and she and Mulder both felt out of place and perpetually in the clasp of a bone-clutching chill.

“I just want to be back in the field,” she’d whisper to him, and he would kiss her hand. With the prize money, they could buy a house, start a family — but they both would rather be in a jungle somewhere, sweating into the other’s skin on a too-narrow cot, in a too-hot clime. There was no science when they were in the cradle of the other’s hips, there was just each other. Sex made life more simple. Sex made life more fun. But sex didn’t cure cancer. Pleurotus Mulderatus did that, and the world wanted to hear about it.

3.She had a free ticket. Any university, any assignment.

“I feel pressure,” she told him, her nose pressed into his ear. “What do you do after you’ve cured cancer?” she asked, earnestly, “there’s nowhere to go but down.”

He’d taken her to Rhode Island, to his family’s cottage in Quonochontaug, creaky and drafty and smelling of mildew and old pine. No one had visited in decades and everything needed to be cleaned and aired out.

They kayaked and frolicked in the waves, drank coffee in adirondack chairs and listened to the pinched squawks of hovering sea birds. They’d find a place in the dune grass, down low where the wind wouldn’t catch them. They’d soak up the sun and then go into the cottage and make love between the knotty pine walls, their moans absorbed by the thick shag carpet laced with the grit of sand, faded drunkards path quilts nailed to the walls.

“Down is a state of mind,” Mulder would murmur into her ear, “Up is fighting gravity. You have nowhere to be but here. You have no one to impress but me.”

He would catch her lips with his own and they would sink into each other gratefully.

4.Mulder was burning pancakes in the kitchen when there was a dull knock on the screen door.

Scully was laughing at Mulder’s culinary ineptitudes when she turned toward the sound, her laugh fading when a well-done-up woman appeared on the stoop, holding her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun’s glare, trying to see into the murky depths of the house.

“Are you press?” Scully asked through the screen door glumly, her mood taking a nose dive.

“I’m Samantha,” the woman said, and it took Scully a full five seconds for her synapses to fire, to figure out the identity of the visitor.

“Oh my god,” Scully said, swinging the door open to admit the polished woman waiting on the other side. The door itself was swollen with humidity and didn’t shut all the way -- it caught like there was a second latch. “Come in, come in!”

Samantha had a full head of thick hair just like her brother, but it was curled and tawny, streaks of not-quite-blonde highlights running from the roots. She was wearing Lily Pulitzer pastels, and would have looked at home in a sun hat or on the pages of Coastal Living.

“You must be Dana,” she breathed, smiling widely. Scully nodded and looked around self-consciously. “God, this place hasn’t changed in thirty years,” Samantha finished, shaking her head ruefully. “Where’s Fox?”

“Kitchen,” Scully said, inclining her head toward the cooking space, though she knew Samantha knew right where to go.

“You’re using the cast iron?” Samantha said boldly and apropos of nothing, stepping into the sunny kitchen, “God, I hope you seasoned that thing.”

Mulder’s face brightened at seeing his sister, and he turned to her fully, enveloping her in a hug, a greasy spatula in one hand, held out so as not to soil her clothes.

“Like you can cook,” he drawled, turning back to the smoking pan.

“I know enough to hire a caterer,” she said, plunking down in an olive green vinyl kitchen chair, looking at ease but totally out of place in the dated decor of the cottage. “So. Who do I have to fuck to get a mimosa around here?”

“Me,” said a voice from the entryway. The screen door slammed ineffectually shut and Scully’s own sister Melissa stood awkwardly in the slant of sun showing through it, holding several plastic bags laden with glass bottles and juices, a hopeful, nervous smile on her face.

“Missy?!” Scully squeaked, and Mulder looked to the door, his face chagrined and pleased as Scully launched herself at her sister, wrapping herself in the earthy patchouli smell of the woman, the plastic bags clunking to the floor at their feet.

XxXxXxXxXxX

“I got ordained online,” Melissa said, drinking a Bellini from a yellow smiley-face mug, her feet tucked under her on a rough-hewn dining chair. “It’s perfectly legal.”

“But it’s--” Scully started, then abandoned her argument. She looked to Mulder desperately, who smiled and plunked a cup of hot coffee in front of her.

“It was only an idea,” he said, squeezing her hand and sliding an ancient sugar dish in front of her. The crinkles around his eyes had hardened in the ocean-reflected sun, lending him an air of easy humor she hadn’t witnessed much of in the jungle.

“Don’t you need two witnesses?” she asked, realizing how lame it sounded the second the words were out of her mouth.

Samantha leaned over and grabbed her hand, squeezing her fingers in such a way that made her feel bolstered and secure. “Not in Rhode Island,” Mulder’s sister told her, looking her square in the eye.

“We don’t have to do it,” Mulder said, still standing at her side, “but I thought…”

She felt overwhelmed with emotion, thinking of her father, who hadn’t lived long enough to witness her greatest achievement, which would have saved his life.

“Mom sent her wedding dress,” Melissa said, holding up a garment bag -- it was a yellowed ivory in the kitchen sun, the zipper up its middle aged and brittle.

XxXxXxXxXxX

They exchanged vows on the beach in front of the old cottage in a whipping Atlantic wind. Gulls hovered overhead and the sun was as bright as a brass doorknob, the air clearer than glass.

Samantha had read a poem by an amateur poet named Tim Pratt called Scientific Romance (Mulder having confessed to her later that night that it only seemed right to have had a reading replete with scientific notation for a wedding between two people such as themselves). Melissa had read words as old as the institution of marriage itself and they exchanged simple rings and had eyes only for each other. Scully handed her bouquet -- a small posy of wild swamp azalea and yellow flag that Melissa had picked the hour before -- to her new sister in law as she strode up the peeling wooden steps of the house. Mulder had insisted upon carrying her over the threshold and Melissa and Samantha had stood back thoughtfully, and were now sitting closely on the beach, heads bent together, talking in hushed tones.

Scully didn’t know quite what to do with herself, dressed in old lace in the heavy salt air, her left ring finger feeling as heavy and pendulous as an old bell. Mulder wrapped his arms around her from behind and told her they never had to leave.

“Nobel Laureates live in Rhode Island, too, you know,” he whispered into the hair behind her ear.

“Mmm,” she said happily, watching her sister and his dig their feet in the gritty sand.

He kissed the skin where her shoulder met her neck. “Life can be as simple as the state motto.”

“Which is?” she asked.

“Hope.”

5. She stood above the riverbank, the grass a trampled, muddy squelch. A monkey called from overhead, a high primate shriek that echoed through the canopy. Its compatriots soon joined in, the welcoming committee announcing the rare arrival of a visitor.

He sat in the back of the approaching hollowed-out canoe, his knees practically to his neck, the lanky bones of him jutting out at all angles. He wore jeans and chambray, all wrong for the climate, but the blue set off the dark mink of his hair, and his eyes -- as green as the river upon which his boat perched -- caught hers from twenty yards away -- they held her gaze as the craft glided to shore, and he leapt off with the galumphing grace of a power forward.

“Dr. Scully I presume,” he said, finding his balance on the slippery shore and reaching a hand forward. She clasped it gratefully, then brought it to her belly, which was protruding out like a carved fertility statue, a life-sized goddess, gravid and full. “I thank God, doctor, that I have been permitted to see you,” he finished, and they embraced on the shores of the jungle river, perspiring and damp and finally, finally feeling at home.

[siriushxney]

➛ searing light | chapter three

— pairing ; darkling!dream x sun summoner!reader

— au ; shadow & bone

— wordcount ; 2k

— warnings ; death, blood, guns, cursing(?)

— note ; this chapter was super fun for me to write, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

previous | next

if it hadn’t been for the squallers standing over head, hands held in front of them manipulating the air around them to glide them forward — you wouldn’t have been able to tell which way was west.

with the only light sprouting from a blue lantern — a light specificity designed by the materialki as to not draw the volcra’s attention, yet provide the otherwise blind grisha and soldiers present on the skiff with light.

wilbur had wandered off slightly — far enough that with the minimal light on board, you weren’t able to make out his facial features, but close enough that if something did happen, he would be able to get to you swiftly.

niki had chosen to stay by your side — out of the two of you, she was unsurprisingly the most confident and collected given the circumstances.

“you’re worrying too much,” niki’s voice was soft — not even loud enough to be considered a whisper, but with the fold demanding utmost silence, you could make her out.

“it’s hard not to worry when you’re in the middle of a place you were taught to fear,” the darkness stretched for miles on all sides of the skiff. “wilbur shouldn’t have even been on this damn thing, let alone me.”

“well whose fault is that?”

not offering a response, you turned your back to the blonde as much as you could. grisha stood at every corner of the deck. there were squallers, heartrenders, a single inferni, and niki — the durast.

they had for the most part gone with grisha that could inflict damage without a dramatic show — but the inferni was there for if things flipped suddenly.

the sharp and ice-like wind didn’t cease the further you had made it into the fold — instead, it’s currents were stronger and more harsh — its temperature making your fingers feel as if they had frostbite within seconds of being exposed.

if you didn’t die from a volcra, maybe the cold would do it.

you swayed forward with the gust of wind that carried from behind — a foot coming to balance yourself alongside your hands placed on the edge.

“shit!” a tiny whisper was heard from your side, but as you turned to look — you couldn’t make out anything.

while her presences was still beside you, you couldn’t see her at all — wilbur either.

“what just happened?”

“the lights out,” niki’s voice was more distanced now, no doubt trying to get the light back on without causing a fuss. “it’s not lighting.”

“just give it a few seconds,” another voice joined her own — it was the inferni.

clicks and taps could be heard from the two as the poke and prodded at the light, desperate for the thing to light up once more.

“miss, what’s happening?”

“the light is out, but we’ll get it back on in a few moments, soldier.”

you had heard it before you had seen it.

the attempted drags of it against the side of the box, the nervous and desperate pants, and the sound of the flame bursting to life.

an orange light emitted from the single match held in carey’s hand.

grisha stood dumbfoundedly and soldiers starred in fear.

“blow it out!” the inferni rushed forward, stopping only short so she wasn’t directly in the light. “you need to put that flame out right now, or you’re going to get us killed!”

carey’s hands shook as he brought the match closer to his face — his shaky breaths making the flame dance wildly the closer it got.

but with the dancing flame and the devastatingly fear-stricken boy, the thing behind him was illuminated as the flame was brought to his face.

“carey-“

the creature screeched as it launched up and off of the skiff, swooping down to sink its claws into the boy's shoulders, and dragging him into the darkness above — his screams echoing through the fold.

orange, yellows, and reds erupted from beside you — the match that had once been in carey's hand now laid in the center of a large and rapidly spreading fire.

volcra’s cries and wings flapping could be heard drawing closer, and with the ever growing light, you could see the shapes of them swoop and fly overhead.

“everyone get down-“ the inferni was grabbed by a volcra — the creature dragging the girls body towards the side of the skiff and through the wood and steel entirely.

splinters of wood and shards of grisha steel bursted upon impact, sending you and those around it back and shielding yourself with anything you could. with clumsy and stiff feet, you had fallen to the deck — hands and arms brought up to protect your face from the wood and steel.

“are you okay!” niki called from the pole that held the blue light — no longer concerned with lighting it, but hiding and protecting herself.

“I don’t know-“

screams of soldiers and grisha alike polluted the air — the scratching of claws on the deck, the sound of flesh being torn, guns firing from all angles, and pleas for help going unanswered.

they were being picked off one by one by the volcra.

“Y/N, look at me!” you turned your head from the scenes of violence — too shocked and fearful of what you were witnessing to fully pay attention to your surroundings. “you stay right there okay? you don’t move from that spot — i’m going to try and get wilbur back here, okay?”

wilbur.

where was wilbur?

“oh my saints-“ you were on your feet in an instant, shakily walking with knees about to give out, searching for your best friend- your family.

“wilbur!”

—

niki watched as you abandoned your place of safety, despite her words encouraging you to stay put.

you were stubborn — and that was going to get you killed.

with a frustrated grunt and a quick glance around the deck, niki searched for anything she could use as a weapon. as strong as she may have been both in sheer power and the small science — her hands were of no use against them.

she manipulated metal, glass, and plants — not flesh and beasts.

instead, she searched for a weapon.

a lone gun, no doubt dropped by a now fallen soldier, laid in the middle of the deck, catching her eyes as it glinted in the light.

with outstretched and still hands, niki focused on the molecules of the steel that made up most of the firearm — drawing them tighter and tighter as if she was gripping it with her own bare hands.

she jerked her hands closer to her body, the weapon following — the gun slid across the deck of the skiff as it knocked into her boot.

picking up and inspecting it quickly, she nodded. “you’ll do just fine.”

looking up, her eyes searched through the chaos on board, trying to find either you or the lanky boy that she had come to learn was named wilbur.

“why couldn’t you have stayed put, and why did you have to walk away?”

—

“wilbur! where the hell are you!”

a soldier knocked into you in his haste to get away from the beast that flew overhead. while you had expected the volcra to follow after the screaming man, it swooped in for someone else — their gun falling from their hands, and their body dangling from the creatures boney and grey claws.

it had taken you a moment to realize what was unfolding in front of you.

“Y/N!”

“oh my saints- wilbur!”

the man clawed at the grotesque talons that gripped his uniform, trying desperately to get the creature to let his body drop.

frantic eyes looked for something to help him with, but you came up short — every thing that could have been helpful, was too far away — and with the height that the creature held him at, there was no way to reach for him.

“move!”

a body crashed into the side of yours, and a gun was seen in your peripherals. niki stood, shoulders squared and eyes full of disgust and determination — no one was fighting back, so she would take this into her own hands.

the trigger clicked as she pulled it — bullet after bullet emptying into the creatures pale skin causing blood and anything else you could think of, falling down onto you and the deck.

with a final round buried into the creatures flesh, it’s talons loosened and gravity pulled wilbur down — his body crashing into the wood below.

your feet moved before you could even process anything — niki following shortly behind.

sliding on the deck was painful — your knees filing with splinters and soaking in the blood of the now deceased, and your own from your own wounds. but you paid no mind to it — not when wilbur coughed wildly, clutching his chest as he blinked up into the darkness.

“are you okay!?” your hands searched for any wounds that could’ve been caused from the nasty creatures sharp claws.

“i’m fine, i’m fine,” he brushed your searching hands away — and while his eyes told you that he was in fact okay, they also held fear.

that could’ve been the end.

this could be the end.

“not to break up this cute moment, but I advise us to get to the back of the skiff — we’ll be sheltered there.”

wilbur sat up with the help of niki and you — his chest still rapidly rising and falling from the adrenaline that had rushed through him moments before.

he looked up, his eyes taking in your watery and distressed eyes — you had seen your life flash before your eyes despite being the one watching his life get out on the line.

it was terrifying to watch someone that you considered family teetering on the edge of life and death.

taking your hands into his own, wilbur smiled to the best of his ability. “i’m fine, Y/N.”

you offered a smile back.

and watched as his eyes widened, and mouth opened in a shout.

this time, you had felt it before you had heard it.

the claws ripping through the fabric of your uniform — parts of your skin being scratched and bloodied by the creature dragging you up.

wilbur's hands held onto yours — niki gripping your arm as if it was her lifeline, desperate to get you out of the volcra’s hold.

the gun that had been used before laid bulletless and ultimately useless now.

there was no way to help you like you had wilbur.

“goddammit! let them go you bastard!” wilbur screamed at the creature as if it would understand him. at this rate, he was going to attract a lot more volcra with the screaming he was doing.

“wilbur, you have to let go-“

“for once in your life, worry about yourself more the those around you!”

volcra grew closer and closer to the last remaining soldiers and grisha on deck — wilbur and niki in the open for attack.

you had been here to protect wilbur.

and it seemed that you might be the one to get him killed.

“wilbur- wilbur look at me!”

his eyes met your own — tears falling without care as he watched you give him a grim look.

“you have to let me go-“

the volcra jerked your body in attempt to free you from their grip — but the two persisted and held on. but the heat from the flames and the fear and adrenaline pumping through your veins caused their hands to slip — the grip they once had faltering as your body was pulled higher and higher.

with one last jerk of its body, the volcra had torn you away from the duo who now sat horrified, looking up at your body that was being pulled further and further up.

this was the end.

it had to be.

heat had been the first thing to flood your body. cold fingers and cheeks that felt like ice, now turned to hot blood pulsing under the skin.

the next thing was the light. a searing light, before you felt the claws that held you in the air disappear, sending you hurtling back down to the deck below.

— tag list ; open

@dreamslittlebitch // @sleepingalaska // @infinitelycharmed23 // @dovesgrangers //

[zombryz]

★ needy ★ a Frieza story pt.2

Please read pt.1 here  【☆】

TW - mentions of anxiety, mentions of smut (next chapter will be smut)

Piccolo and Gohan arrive at Capsule Corp on request of Bulma. It’s still late so Bulma gathers everyone on the rooftop for a meeting.

“Y/N has been taken.” She says facing away from them and staring at the night horizon, unable to see their reactions. No comments were made so she turned around to face Piccolo, Trunks, Gohan, Goten, Chi-Chi, Krillen, and Android 18. This had become an emergency meeting. She continued to speak, “as you know Goku and Vegeta are training on Beerus’ planet.” She rolled her eyes. No one said anything unsure of where this was going. “I think I know who took Y/N but gods I hope I am wrong.” She brought her hand up to her face trying to hide her guilt, struggling to say what she was about to say. 

There was a brief pause. Everyone’s eyes still fixed on her. “Frieza took her. I had a feeling that he had been brought back for some time now...”

“What do you need us to do, Bulma?” Piccolo finally chimes in with his arms still crossed attempting to hide his concern at the mention of Frieza’s name. 

“We need to somehow get to Whis so he can bring home Goku and Vegeta.” She turned to him, anger in her eyes. She thought, how could she let this happen? An evil being came and abducted her best friend. She couldn’t get emotional now. “I’m thinking we use food, and lots of it!” 

Everyone nodded in agreement, they were going to stay up all night trying to reach Whis. You were a part of their family. The idea of Frieza having you scared everyone, they wouldn’t dare say it outloud but they were terrified that he had already killed you. 

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

White noise is all you hear. Your eyes flutter open and your consciousness comes with a pounding headache. Where were you? Nothing looks familiar. You thought back to the last thing you remember. Frieza. That bastard. Where did he bring you? You tried calming your breathing so you wouldn’t freak out. You start to look around, scanning your surroundings for anything that might help you escape. You felt that your hands were tied behind your back. Your chest feels heavy, there is something big and metallic hanging around your neck, you couldn’t exactly see it but you assumed it was some kind of collar to keep you from trying to leave. Great, now I’m a pet you thought. Wherever you were looked to be a spaceship of some kind. The walls were a type of metal that matched your collar, the floor you were sitting on was cold and there was no sign of anyone, not even Frieza. It didn’t look like a throne room, so where are you? You looked over to your right and there was a literal king sized bed floating in mid air, illuminated blue from the bottom. On your left was a large and exquisite dining area. Okay, so you’re probably in someone's quarters. Why?

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by the sliding of the quarter’s door. You slowly slid back into the wall you were leaning against in hopes that you’d blend in, not to be seen. With no hesitation Lord Frieza walks in, his strut more intimidating than ever. He doesn’t make eye contact with you, he instead ignores you completely. He walked over to his dining table and began pouring himself a glass of wine. After drinking the glass in one sip he finally spoke,

“Ah, comfortable are we, human?” His bright red eyes piercing yours, making you feel like prey under his predatory stare. “You see, I’ve never had the need for hostages so sadly, I do not have room for them.” He raises his hand to jester in the air in complete annoyance, but continues talking anyways. “You should feel honored to be staying in my quarters with me.” He twists his mouth into a smirk. 

“I liked my apartment better” You retorted, instantly regretting saying anything at all. 

“Ahh, a spunky little one,” He began walking over to you, his feet leaving behind a creepy mechanical sound. As he closes the space between you he leans down with one hand still behind his back while the other reaches for your face. He grabs your jaw, causing your lips to pucker out. Your jaw was still sore from the night before. He slowly lifts you so that you can look him in the eyes. “What is it about you that makes the monkey’s willing to do anything?” He questioned examining your face and body. His eyes continue lower and lower down your body until they snap back connecting your eye contact once more. 

The interaction was making you anxious. Your breathing became sporadic and Frieza started to notice this. With his free hand he ran a clawed finger up your abdomen starting at your naval and slowing when he got to your ribs just under your bra wire. This motion sent shivers down your spine. 

“Human lungs are so fragile, hmm?” His voice quieter than it had been only moments ago. You didn’t break eye contact trying not to let him feel superior in this moment. You didn’t want him to be the powerful one although there was no doubt that he was. He removed his hand from your ribs to run it over your face, he absorbed your energy from you once more forcing you to sleep. 

You fluttered your eyes open the same as before. This time there was sunlight creeping in from the window instead of the darkness that laid there previously. The ship must be facing the sun this time, before you were only able to see stars. There was something different though, you didn’t feel as cold as you did before. You actually felt very comfortable, you grip around you only to feel that your surroundings had been replaced with a soft feeling. Sitting up you realize where you were. Frieza’s bed?! When you look around he’s nowhere to be found. You had no idea how much time had passed or why you had been asleep in his bed. Your hands were no longer bound together but your collar remained where it had been before. You rolled out of the bed standing to your feet, you must’ve not been fully used to the gravity difference because you started stumbling. 

“Ha, this is very entertaining, please don’t stop on my account,” You knew that voice. It was Frieza. When you turn around you see him coming out of a room that was attached to his quarters. Your brows furrow in anger. 

“This isn’t funny Frieza, how long am I going to be here?” As time goes by so does your confidence in speaking to him. He needs you as a hostage, so he can’t kill you. Right? 

“I share my bed with you and this is the thanks I get?” he pouts. “Such a pity, I liked it better when you were asleep.” He added while he removed one hand from behind his back to pick at his nails. You were no longer entertaining him. 

You walked up to him, becoming cocky with your movements. “Listen Frieza, Goku can lock onto my location. You better hope he doesn’t pop up here and kick your ass!” you started waving a finger in his face, anger getting the best of you. Maybe you should’ve thought out that last part. 

Frieza grabs your wrist and your finger retreats forming into a fist. His grip was always so tight. “Ouch,” you tried to pull away but couldn’t escape his grasp. Frieza removed his free hand from behind his back to place it on the small of your back. You gasped at the action not expecting him to grab you by the waist. In one swift motion he pulled you in closer to him, your chests were inches away from each other. There was no calming your breathing, you were so nervous. 

“Just because you’re my hostage doesn’t mean that I have to be nice to you.” 

Silence. You had nothing to say, there was so much tension it could fill the whole room. You didn’t like him but something about how close you were caused a million butterflies in your stomach crying to be let out. You swallowed in hopes the feeling would go away. He was the enemy, why were you feeling this way about him? Before you could be in your thoughts any longer you felt something cold sneaking its way up your leg. You didn’t dare look down but you had a feeling you knew what it was. Frieza’s tail was climbing its way up your leg. 

Shit. What is going on?

Frieza looked down at your leg realizing his tail had you pinned. He released you immediately and left the room without a glance in your direction. The gravity became heavy once more and you dropped to your knees at the foot of Frieza’s bed. What just happened? 

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

Later that night you were laying in Frieza’s bed. He hadn’t returned yet so you were alone in your thoughts for hours. Whatever happened you had a feeling Frieza felt it too. What did this mean? You can’t be ‘sleeping with the enemy’. You had to get out of here before anything else happened. Before you could plan an escape, the door opens. 

“I-I feel the need to tell you that my tail has a mind of its own so don’t get any wrong ideas.”

You didn’t answer. What would you even say to that? The air wasn’t awkward, as soon as he re-entered the room the tension was back. This was the first time Frieza sounded unsure of anything. It was like your presence made him weak. He walked over to the bed. Uh-oh, you just realized that in the past however many nights Frieza had put you to sleep that you weren’t conscious and had no idea if Frieza was actually sleeping IN the bed with you. When he reached the side of the bed he untucked the sheets insinuating that he would be getting into the bed. Your eyes went wide, you froze unsure of what to do. You turn over to face away from him, you felt his movement as he got under the covers. He shifts around to get comfortable. Well this couldn’t get anymore awkward. Your thoughts running wild it was getting harder to control them. You turned over on your side this time facing him, he was laying with his hands behind his head staring blankly at the ceiling. You could finally decipher the tension you had been feeling, it was sexual. Your desires becoming hard to ignore. Your cheeks give off heat leaving behind a rosy hue. You closed your eyes tightly trying not to think about all the things you’d wish he’d do to you. 

“Please do control yourself little one, I can smell your arousal from over here.” 

You froze. He can smell you? This was embarrassing. Could you use this to your advantage in some way? He seemed vulnerable, maybe you could use this to escape. Did you even want to escape anymore? Why were you feeling this way? 

This was killing you. You decided to just let your instincts take charge, before you knew it you had hoped on top of him, straddling him, holding his hands at the sides of his head. You were pinning him down. Under your grasp, he had become the prey. He didn’t respond, he did nothing. Maybe he was unsure of what your intentions were? You were breathing heavy but he was completely calm, unconcerned with you. He treated you as though you had no power or strength over him and it drove you mad. His eyes locked on yours, there was a moment, the tiniest moment of need in his eyes. He looked at you like he was enjoying this. With your instincts still in control you did it, you leaned down pressing your lips to his dark ones. The kiss was intimate but brief. Almost immediately you were shoved off, the roles had reversed. He quickly flipped you over and had you pinned down beneath him. Your hands were grasped tightly in his, he held them above your head. 

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” His brows furrow, he was angry. Gods, he was so beautiful. Was he going to kill you now? Maybe he’ll say whatever to his grand plan and kill you right where you lay. 

He slowly removed his palms from yours, sitting up still straddling you. His face turned sour, his pointer finger lifted up as he swirled together a red ball of energy. He started laughing evilly. This was it. This was the end.

[thestarswhim]

Intertwining Connection

Summary: Since MK has Monkey King’s powers, wouldn’t they both have some sort of connection to each other? 

An idea where MK might get a sense of what the Monkey King is feeling. 

Words: 1,757

Notes: Descriptions of anxiety, but nothing major.

It was late at night, a few hours before MK would have to get ready for work, and there was barely any noise except for the occasional cars that drove by. So, it was a wonder when he woke up suddenly, gasping for air as if he just ran with all the strength he had left, and sat straight up. 

He searched the whole room, alarmed, and confused, and uneasy — and when did he start using the golden vision thing? He blinked it away and rubbed at his eyes, trying to take deep breaths, but the weight still in his chest wasn’t letting up. Everything felt vague… like the feeling one would get after waking up from a dream, but… he couldn’t recall any of it if he did. The only thing that kept screaming at him was that someone was in danger. But, who? 

He fidgeted slightly in his bed and clenched his blanket around his fists, causing it to scrunch up in his hands. He bit down on his tongue as he looked over to his gear and then slowly to the window — no. No, no, no, no, no. He was not going to just go out on impulse again and then end up finding nothing. He freaked about stuff like this before, where he felt something was wrong, and usually nothing bad actually happened until a few or more days after. And he took care of those things when they did happen. Most of the time. Besides, sometimes he was just overthinking things and nothing was wrong in the first place. So, he should breathe it in, breathe it out, go back to sleep, and not worry about it (for now), right?

...

But, still… 

This felt different. It was more intense, as if it were a life or death situation, and that, by ignoring it, would be a grim, dark, scary mistake he did not want to consider. 

There began an anxious sensation he didn’t feel before going down his back like some sort of chill, and it felt way too uncomfortable. 

Okay. He should probably go and find that someone. 

He quickly got out of bed, stumbling a bit as he grabbed his jacket and headband, and saw as he was putting on his shoes how much his hands were trembling. He wasn’t scared or nervous; rather, it was that sensation that would not leave, and it was bothering him — and he really needed to go find whoever was in danger. 

Using the golden vision could help most likely, and maybe Monkey King knew what was going on? Given how strong this feeling was, it was probably another power of his, and it would be something MK would have to get used to more often. Great. 

The thought of Monkey King, however, suddenly brought a flash of blue and gold into his mind. His breath hitched at the realization, and all the weight from his chest dropped to his stomach in an instant as he snapped his head to the window.

“Monkey King,” he breathed out, and before he could comprehend it, he was jumping out the window, staff in hand.

How could Monkey King be in danger? He could clearly handle himself just fine. Maybe this was all in his head, yeah. Probably… but of course he was still going to check because… because the feeling was only growing stronger, and the sharp sensation was fully enveloping him, and, and — he suppressed a frustrated groan. Focus, MK! Now wasn't the time! He had to get to Flower Fruit Mountain! 

Before his body would reach the ground, he swiftly landed the end of the staff first with a resounding thud on the street and extended it forward to launch himself higher into the air. It would be quicker this way. 

Though, luckily and surprisingly for him, he supposed, was that not even a second after, he caught an object in his view coming straight towards him, moving in a bit too fast for his liking, actually. 

“Kid!” it shouted, tone tight and on edge, and a wave of dizzying fear penetrated his chest and left all at the same time, making his throat tighten. 

“Monkey King?” MK choked to get out. He was okay! Maybe? Was he being chased probably? That sudden, intense beat of emotion took him longer to comprehend everything properly; it left his whole body fuzzy and dull, but also static with anxious induced adrenaline, his nerves feeling singed at the edge of his mind. 

Which totally made him forget he wasn't on the ground and, rather, still in the air. The momentum he gained before was now dissipating and gravity was starting to catch up to him again, slowly dragging him down. 

Oh.

He made a yelp jump out of his mouth when he hit something sooner than he thought, but as soon realized he wasn't in immediate pain and was being picked back up into the air in a swooping motion. 

His mind processed that his head was against someone's chest, as he heard rapid, muffled thumping of a heart in his ear. Also he heard talking — and oh my gosh, Monkey King! 

He squirmed around in his mentor's grasp, trying to get a better look at his surroundings in case someone was chasing him or something. 

"Woah, hey," Monkey King started, and there was a slight tremble to his voice, but that could be from coming all the way over to the city. "Don't worry, it's just me." 

They floated back down to the ground, where MK found they were on the cloud beforehand, and took a few steps back once he was sure he was not in the air anymore (that was a rollercoaster in it of itself) to assess everything, including Monkey King who seemed fine and gave him one of his side smiles. They were the only two present at the moment; he didn’t hear or see anyone else coming, neither was his senses buzzing out anymore. He slowly exhaled. This was all so intense for no reason.

“You all right, Kid? Why were you so high in the sky this early in the morning?” Monkey King chuckled, in a short, weird way, and, if MK was seeing right, he looked relieved himself. 

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorta confused, but good,” MK nodded, twisting the staff in his hands. “And, well, I guess — are you okay? I thought something bad happened.”

Monkey King raised his eyebrows, his tail slowly swaying to and fro, and then swiftly changed into a more neutral, chill-like expression. He had been doing that a lot lately. “Of course I’m fine!” He then gazed around the area, eyes focused and distant at the same time. “Why? Did something happen?”

His voice had that certain edge again, but MK tried not to think too much on it right now, and instead relaxed his stature more and shook his head. “No? I mean I hope not. I woke up in this panic and it was not leaving no matter what I did which made me think it was something serious and that someone was in trouble, and then I had a feeling that it could be you? And now you're here, so I guess it was nothing? I’m not sure.” 

Silence… and then, “unless something is wron—”

“Okay, kiddo,” Monkey King put his hand on MK’s head, “before you start freaking out again: I’m fine, and I’m pretty sure everything else is fine. It was probably a dream you had if anything.”

MK thought for a moment. It probably was, but, like before, he couldn’t remember any of it even if he tried. It was weird. He sighed, “I guess. So… why are you here, then?”

Monkey King stiffened, MK could tell from his hand still on his head and the way his fingers twitched in his hair, but it was so subtle and quick, no one would catch it. But, and for some reason, MK kept catching those small moments more and more, and he wasn’t sure if he liked that, or what to think of it. 

His mentor put his hand back down and stretched. “Eh, ‘just wanted to smell the morning air, I don’t do it often. So, I thought I’d fly around the city for a while, and then, to my suprise, there you were nearly falling, so,” his shoulders shook from his small laughter again. “But, I suppose I should head back now since everything seems to have settled down, and you should try and get some more rest before you actually have to get up, okay?” 

“Right,” MK said, and he wanted to say more, that look in Monkey King’s eyes made him want to, but… maybe now wasn't the right time. And maybe he was over exaggerating things. Monkey King was fine, and even if he was hiding anything, MK shouldn’t press on it if he wasn’t supposed to know. He had learned that by now…  

“All right, Kid, lets go,”  Monkey King smiled gently, and, before MK could question anything, he grabbed a hold of him and lifted them both back up on the cloud over to his balcony.

“Thanks,” MK smiled back while he safely landed his feet on said balcony. “I’ll see you tomorrow! Or, wait, today? What time is it?” 

“Way too early to be up,” Monkey King reminded with a smirk, “so go to sleep or else you’ll be sweeping the whole mountain.”

“Wait, really?” Because no. No, thank you. Was that even possible, and who would even sweep a whole mountain? 

Monkey King shrugged with a “I don’t know” noise. “I guess we’ll have to see later today," and, with a short wave and a wink, said, "see ya, bud!" and went zooming away.

MK watched him go once again, leaning his arms against the railing. The sun was just beginning to show up, the dark blue sky becoming a lighter shade of gray with warm tones peeking out between the buildings. As his mind went over everything, he closed his eyes and sighed, letting the light breeze brush over the tips of his hair. 

He probably wasn't going back to bed. 

~~~

Wukong road on his cloud on the way back to the mountain, hoping the wind would take his thoughts with it. 

The kid… was he sharing…? 

No. Maybe. 

He roughly huffed. He had to keep his emotions in check, or else he was going to end up hurting the both of them.

~~~

Notes: This one was a bit shorter, but I wanted to write about it because the idea was pretty interesting to me, and it’d be cool if they explored more on how they’re sharing the same power, so... (and the part where I made Wukong catch MK was what inspired me to write it all in general because I thought it looked nice in my head and it was my first thought for the idea LOL) 

BUT YES, I hope you enjoyed! And if any of you want to write out or do anything about this idea, go right ahead; I would love to see it!!

I might make this a series of little one-shots or even longer stories if I get more ideas for it, but, anywho, thank you so much for reading!! Much Love, and many Blessings! 😊

[kitsunesakii]

Experimenting, had fun writing this!

I wouldn't have it any other way:

"Great" I muttered, looking into the dingy hotel room, Onix pushing past me into the room. This day couldn't be any worse. Stupid hero agency. Most people would be happy to be in my position, I was stationed in a stake out with a local villain that was trying to prove that he had changed. A massive operation. My problem with it?

     First of all I was only chosen because I was the most expendable since I was not only a sidekick, but I didn't have a drastic power. He was a telepath, and since I was an empath, I was the only one that could be sent in that could keep certain secrets about the agency. But that's not why they chose me. I wasn't considered a super hero, barley looked at as a sidekick. People laughed when they heard about me, a girl who could distort emotions? Stupid compared to someone who could move brick and stone, or shoot lightning. I was the one they sent when there was a possibility of death. The only upside was Onix, he was the reason why I accepted the mission. He could switch from playboy to gentlemen to evil in three seconds flat. And while I can hold my own, it was easy for him to make my heart melt. Which was only slightly annoying.

     "Ah, we seem to have a problem"

     I was pulled from my thoughts as his voice echoed through the small room. "Only one bed dearest" he cooed. I stared at the room's bed. It looked cute, with a baby blue blanket with white pillows. In the corner of the room was a comfy looking chair. I tried to force down the red that was growing on my face, letting out a nervous chuckle instead.

     "I'll sleep on the chair" I stated, giving him a forced optimistic smile. This day was just getting better and better. He raised an eyebrow, folding his arms in front of his chest. Instead of watching him I pulled out my laptop and started hacking through the main frame of the building next door. I don't even know why they sent me, I'm no hacker, at least, not skilled like "Cypher" or her sidekick. And I was getting a headache, brought on by the lecture I had given before I was assigned this case. Don't forget that the only reason your here is because you are lucky enough to be able to force him out of your thoughts. It's the only thing your useful for. I grimaced at the memory, I wasn't really in the mood for being stepped on. And I was reaching my breaking point. Fast.

     "I'll just sleep on a chair" he mocked, a playful smile dancing on his features. It had been a while since I had seen him. The last time was when I worked with an insufferable hero people called "bolt" he had been the only one that took me on and only because I didnt outshine him. We had been assigned with a bank robbery, Onix had been there, along with about three other people. He had gotten the upper hand, just my luck, taking me into a room for interrogation. The minute I figured out that he could read minds I had shut him out. Instinctively fogging all my thoughts.

     That was the moment the agency realized I has some ounce of worth, Keeping the secrets safe. But Onix  hadn't gotten angry, didn't hurt me, just stared at me in wonder, in awe, a sight I never got to see. It made my stomach turn in knots.

     "Your gonna sleep on a chair, for 3 nights?" He sat on the edge of the bed, his teasing smile growing by the second.

     "Yes" I deadpanned. The heat in my face steadily rising. I guess it wasn't all bad, he didn't look down on me like everyone else did, or at least he pretended. I couldn't know for sure because he also instinctively  tuned me out of his subconscious.

     "I know I'm irresistible to look at but I'm even more fun to sleep with" he hummed.

     I dipped my head below the laptop screen. My face was burning, I wasn't used to someone speaking to me like that. And it was a bit annoying, it wasn't that I didn't enjoy it. it was that it could all be fake, and I was simply setting myself up for disappointment. I typed away at the computer, ignoreing his comments, it had been a while since I was asked to hack into something so complex, this was going to take me a while. I felt a hand drag down  the length of my scalp, onto the base of my neck. I went rigid. "W-what"

     "Shhhh, you get so tense, just relax"

     He traced a finger lightly through my hair, sending ripples throughout my neck. The pleasure ripped through my back. That was enough.

     I forced myself to stand, shaking free of his hold and moving to the other side of the room. "Don't, just don't" the surprise on his face was evident, as he also jumped to his feet, confusion seeping through his eyes. I felt the anger bubble under my skin.

     "Everybody treats me like crap, and you come in here and pretend and I just have had enough!"  I tried to breathe, tried to see reason, but I was so tired of it all. "I put up with it because I feel like I can maybe make a difference, and everyone looks down at me because I'm a bloody empath" I covered my face with my hands, feeling a hot tear make it's way down my cheek. "And you come in here, and treat me with pity" this shouldn't of been happening, I shouldn't of been here. My stupid emotions, his stupid good looking features. Two hand hit the sides of my shoulders, gently drawing circles on my skin. I wiped away the angry tear that had fallen, leaning into the touch, too tired to argue.

     "Do you think I'm giving you the time of day out of pity?" His voice was a whisper, and it was straight into my ear, I stiffened. "Over this past week I've gotten to learn a lot about you, I learned your power, how your looked down apon. But mostly, I learned that when you put your mind to something you won't let anyone lead you astray." He moved a hand, placing it under my chin. Tilting it so our eyes met. "Your beauty comes from the determination coursing through your veins. Your kindness comes from experience. And you patience is one of your greatest virtues." He paused, his gaze burning through my eyes. A dangerous smile resting on his smooth face. "And, I also noticed, that when your around me, your thoughts do this thing. Almost like a low hum. Almost like," he lowered his voice to a purr "you get flustered around me, and dearest? You have no idea how hard it is to keep my hands off of you~"

     with that he pressed his lips into mine, taking my breath away. His hands met my hair, and he combed through my scalp. Sending more shivers down my spine. I let the wall behind me support me, feeling all my strength leave with every small tug at my hair. One minute his lips were pressed against mine and the next they traveled down my cheek, riding the length of my neck. My breath hitched as his cool tongue grazed my exposed skin. He paused, moving back up to meet my gaze. I had held onto his shoulders, desperately trying to fight against gravity.

     He smiled. Looking at my fire coated cheeks. Tracing the tip of his thumb against my lip. His other hand still hypnoticly playing with my hair. "If you really think I'm going to let you sleep on the chair, then you don't know me at all" he teased, once again closing the distance between us. Nibbling at my ear. I let out a tiny squeak, unsure at what I was reacting too since his other hand was running up and down the length of my back, each time going a little further, causing goosebumps to creep along my skin.

     I moved my hands, gliding them down his shirt, feeling the grooves in his chest. My mind was hazy, all common sense and reason leaving me with every sigh. I didn't really know what to do, and he wasn't making it easier. Skillfully making every shift of his hands, every flick of his fingers, melt my brain more than the last. His lips met mine and I could taste the salt of his lips, feel the satisfaction rolling off of him. His hands moved down my front, rewarded with another small squeak from me, before slowly making his way to my hands, that were still absentmindedly tracing his chest. He held them in his, only then I was realizing how big his hands were compared to mine, suited with little cuts and bruises here and there. I breathed, taking a moment to pull his hands up to my face, studying them closely. Forcing my brain to stop spinning. He stayed quiet, watching me closely as I brought his knuckles to my lips, brushing against his hands, moving  them to brace against my cheek.

     "There so warm" I whispered, feeling him shape his palms to fit against my face. Still wearing the same smile that dug it's stare into my own. He stayed there a moment, his chest rising and falling quickly, sucking in a breath before settling his lips against mine once again. His hands moved, one taking residence behind my neck, and the other flew against my side. Making it's way to my hip, gingerly tracing circles over top of me, dragging his fingers slowly.

     He pulled me fully off the wall, startled, I braced myself against him even more. using his neck as a way to keep myself up, stretching flush against him. His lips were still planted on mine, I wouldn't have it any other way, especially considering I couldn't bring myself to speak. Instead, he hummed into my gasps. Skillfully holding me, just enough to feel his own heartbeat thrumimg rhythmically to mine. He lifted both his hands back up to my shoulders, fiddling with the front of the T-shirt I had on. The fabric smooth under his fingers. He said something, but I didn't hear it, between my heart ringing through my ears and my own breathing, I couldn't bring myself enough to hear.

     "Dearest? Did you hear me?" He didn't sound out of breath, making me jealous. I could barely speak. Instead, I shook my head, thanking God that I could at least have enough sense to do that. His smile only got wider, "I said, this is going to be a fun 3 days. "

[wordstrings]

Speak Your Truth (ch. 5)

For the I Fixed/Fic’d It: A Supernatural Fluffsgiving Event! Post-15x18/19 fic with certain plot points ignored.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 (fin)

—

Chapter 5

Words: 1,450

“Cas! Ca-aha-as!”

It turned out there was very little Dean could actually say while being playfully assaulted. All of his usual Stop it!s, Don’t!s, and I will fucking strangle you with your own sock!s were apparently lacking in sufficient veracity. At least his instinctive reactions to protect himself weren’t hampered. Fat lot of good they were proving to be, though.

Cas’ arms around his thighs were unfazed by his kicking as he was hoisted ass-first through the doorway in a fireman’s carry. He slapped Cas’ back and twisted like a caught snake but collapsed in laughter all over again whenever Cas clawed a hand into his hamstrings. Dean shrieked as gravity upended itself and whip-cracked him into a bouncy landing on Cas’ mattress.

The euphoria of being so thoroughly manhandled morphed into an elated panic when he realized, two seconds too late, that Cas had deftly unpicked the double-knot of his bootlaces and was working his left foot free. Dean scrambled to regain his equilibrium, scooting back toward the pillows like a nervous crab.

No, NO, “My feet are so fucking ticklish, Cas,” don’t even think about it, you dick! “Ple-he-hease!”

“Please what?” Cas asked, smirking like the asshole Dean knew he was even if he couldn’t verbalize it. His iron-shackle grip around Dean’s ankle tugged him bodily back down toward the foot of the bed.

Don’t! Stop! “Don’t stop,” Dean panted, grinning bright as the sun.

Then he erupted with laughter as fingers spidered over his sole. Tingly fireworks rocketed up his leg and straight into his chest like a defibrillating jolt. He arched back on the bed, kicking and clawing, gasping and giggling. Cas held his ankle fast, immovable as a medieval set of stocks while he tickled and tickled like a goddamned monster. There were even chilly little tendril sensations of Grace wriggling between Dean’s toes, and that was just cheating. Dean yanked, squirmed, and yelped as his brain bluescreened with repeating lines of Error: Cannot Get Away. He wrapped his arms over his middle and shook with helpless laughter.

“Are you having the fun you wanted?” Cas asked sweetly, as if he weren’t driving Dean berserk.

It felt so good to laugh this much, this hard. Dean’s strength was slowly but surely wearing out as he struggled vainly. He couldn’t feel the burn yet in his convulsing belly, though that would come later when he inevitably chuckled at somebody’s dumb joke over dinner and was reminded of the workout. He’d probably flush then, too, like he was now.

“Definitely,” he choked out between gasps for breath.

“How about if I tickle the other foot, too?”

The no! Dean wanted to cry just… didn’t come out. His leg recoiled like a bungee when Cas suddenly released his tortured foot, and he almost kneed himself square in the face. He again wasn’t quick enough to scrabble backwards; Cas snatched up his other ankle. The bedding muffled his panicked laughter as he rolled over to better claw his way toward the headboard, fully aware he couldn’t slip Cas’ grasp but damned if he wasn’t going to try. The mattress dipped under his knees as Cas followed his retreat. His remaining boot was being plucked loose with each inch he gained. A sharp tug and it was off, and Dean stuffed a fistful of pillow in his mouth to stifle his squawking when Cas pinned his ankle down and scribbled across his arch.

“Now, I know you’re ticklish in many other places,” said Cas, while Dean wailed mirthfully into the pillow, “but I doubt I know all of them. Since you’ve so helpfully informed me that this is enjoyable for you, it’s only fair that I tell you: I plan on finding every – single – one.” He punctuated with clawed squeezes up the back of Dean’s leg.

A rush of heat washed over Dean when Cas crawled up over his kicking legs and draped himself over his back. The warmth of Cas’ breath was right behind his ear, dizzying him even as he squirmed from the pointed pokes marching up his sides.

“Maybe not today, maybe not by next week, but,” Cas purred, “in time, every ticklish spot you have will be brought to light. I have all the time I need, because…”

Cas paused as if for dramatic effect (which Dean wouldn’t have believed him purposely capable of just a handful of years ago, but now? Now Cas was certainly both capable and purposeful in dramatics), but the silence dragged. Cas’ hands went still, cupping Dean’s ribs almost reverently. The moment hung, growing quiet, the weight of it mingling with the physicality of Cas’ body on Dean’s back.

Before, Dean would have deflected the gravity with a flippant comment. But, truth-speaking or not, this was still After. He inhabited the hush, and he waited.

“Because…” Cas began again, and there was something like wonder in his voice. “Because you want me to stay.”

Dean turned his head, straining for a view of Cas’ face. “I want you to stay,” he confirmed softly.

Cas was there, just past his shoulder, the expression in his features as open and full as it had been that day – the day that divided Before from After. Cas pushed up on his elbows and learned forward. Dean twisted to meet him. Their smiles almost clacked their teeth together before their lips found each other. Cas pushed down into him, compressing him between the soft give of mattress and firm weight of body. Everything inside Dean’s chest felt squeezed in a way that had nothing to do with the pressure.

Happiness may have been in the saying and the being, but the having wasn’t half-bad, either.

“I love you,” Dean whispered, his lips catching the stubble of Cas’ jaw, because hell if he was going to let Cas be the one to say it first every time.

Cas gently kissed the corner of his mouth, once, twice. “I love you, too.”

They breathed each other.

After another moment, Cas asked, “Are you hurting yet?”

Dean wiggled a bit beneath him, feeling pleasantly flattened on his belly between Cas and the bed that smelled of him. “Nope. Smush me for as long as you want.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Cas’ arms tightened around him. “Does your stomach hurt from laughing yet?”

“No, it’s...” All at once, Dean registered how immobile he was, effectively pinned beneath Cas’ not-insignificant bulk. He gulped down a nervous laugh as Cas’ hands began twitching back to life. “Cas, wait– wait, no-hoho!”

The impending strike stalled immediately. “No more?” Cas said, soothing and apologetic.

“Oh. I, uh–” Dean licked his lips. “I think Jack’s thing wore off.”

Cas’ tone took a turn for the devious. “Yes more?”

“...Yes?” Dean tried, small and hesitant and maybe just a little squeaky.

Then he was a mess of laughter once again, at the mercy of tickling hands and teasing Grace and tender, nibbling kisses.

—

Dean’s stomach hurt. So did his shoulders, his thighs, his neck – just about everything ached. He felt awesome.

He’d finally caught his breath; Cas leaned in and gently stole it again from his lips. They hummed together, Cas cupping his hands around Dean’s jaw, Dean winding an arm around Cas’ neck.

“M’sorry it took me so long,” Dean sighed against his skin. “To say things. To let you know.”

“I’m not sorry for missed time,” said Cas, calm as the deep ocean. “Twelve years is hardly a blink on the scale of time I will love you.”

Even if Dean’s voicebox had still been lubed up, he doubted he could’ve come up with something to say to that. “Geez, Cas,” he choked.

Cas curled his fingers through Dean’s hair and pulled Dean’s forehead against his chin. “I am not limited to a human lifetime. And, of course, neither are you. A soul is eternal.”

Once more, Dean’s heart stuttered in the face of Cas’ devotion. A self-deprecating response formed habitually on his tongue, but he made the effort to swallow it. He nuzzled into Cas’ neck. “Will you even be able to get cuddly in Heaven, or are you gonna be too busy being a wavelength with four dimensions and infinite heads or whatever?”

“There will be cuddling. Though I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by the metaphysical alternatives, should you choose to… experiment.”

Well, that was something Dean’s brain was definitely too underequipped and overtired to process. He grumbled nonsensical sounds into Cas’ stubbled throat and curled more tightly around him. Taking Cas’ view on time meant that conversation could wait.

For now, he’d lay on Cas’ chest, enjoy the soreness in his belly, and look forward to all the times to come.

[s-creations]

Return the Flames - Chapter 12

All at Dead Bird Studios knew of Amos' (The  Conductor's) ability. How the owl could suddenly erupt into flames if  angered enough. When the studio first opened, Dominic (DJ Grooves) was  told that Amos had his ability under control. Nothing to worry about. No  possible loss of anything from an open flame.

A few years later however, and that control seems to have lessened to a dangerous degree.

It should have just been a simple, week long drive to fix the problem. It really should have been.

Dominic should have asked a lot more questions and should have been prepared for a twist ending.

_________________

Fandom: A Hat in Time         Rating: General Audience         Relationships/Pairings: The ConductorXDJ Grooves       Warnings: Eventual depictions of violence, slow burn relationship, named characters, attempt of an accent, being hunted down, a race against time (sort of).

Author's Note: I finished Student Teaching, passed my Content Test, and I have a new job lined up for the school year! I’m getting back into writing, but we’ll see how consistent I am with my stories. XD

The morning after was surprisingly quiet with knowing what was waiting for them. Dominic and Amos waking to find themselves tangled up among each other. The fire from the night before was fully dead. Both quiet as they packed up their meager belongings and headed out. While it was quiet, it wasn’t uncomfortable. A quiet hope of believing this would all be over soon.

 By late afternoon, the duo had finally reached the base of the mountain. A single hut was waiting for them, small and a deep blue scrap of fabric swaying in the entrance. A system of two carts resting on thick vines that disappeared into the mist covering the peak. It was calm, leaving Dominic to wonder how worried they needed to be. 

 “Are you also expecting the worst?” Dominic whispered to Amos, whose feathers were ruffled. 

 “In the shape o’ C.A.W.” the owl responded, “Let’s not stick around any more than we need ta.”

 Without a glance, Amos made his way towards the carts. Only to curse when he was unable to move it forward. It was a simple crank system that moved the tram forward, one that, even when working together, wouldn’t move.

 “Alright...so… What’s the next plan.” Dominic panted. 

 “...Think we could fly?” Amos teased.

 “Um, excuse me sirs?”

 Both jumped at the new voice that sounded from behind. Another shock came at the large Nomad they found, bigger than the ones they’d met in the village proper. Draped in clothes of deep blues and purples. The growing panic broke when a small Nomad child wavered happily at the birds from behind the larger companion. It was an intense shift in size between the two. 

 The smaller Nomad dashed forward, waving their way between the two of them. “Are you the two that our Elder sent a message about?”

 “I will assume so. Unless there’s another traveling duo we were unaware of nearby as well,” Dominic laughed, “I’m Dominic, and this is Amos.”

 “I’m Bakle! And this is Papa! We’re supposed to take you to the mountain’s peak. That’s where the temple is.”

 “I’m assuming yer Papa has ta be the one ta get the thin’ goin’?” Amos asked, tensing slightly as the mentioned Nomad stepped forward. 

 “Uh huh! I was also told that we need to move quickly.”

 “Aye. The sooner we’re done with this, the better… I hope so anyway.”

 “Then we need to get going.” Bakle instantly dashed forward. Entering the card and eagerly waiting for the others to follow. Papa was on next, taking his place next to the crank. 

 Dominic frowned as, when he placed one foot into the cart, he realized Amos wasn’t following. He turned back around to find the owl’s attention focused on the mist hidden peak. It was clear the other director was nervous. Dominic understood. He wasn’t sure how this all was going to end. It felt as if they had escaped death and disaster numerous times. And to be so close to the end...whatever that end may be.

 Amos was broken from his thoughts feeling something slip into his hand. Looking down to find Dominic had taken it.

 “Come on,” the penguin said softly, “We’ll be okay.”

 There was little resistance as Amos was pulled towards the cart. The small door was closed behind them and they were off. Papa turned the large crank easily to move them forward. 

 The ground around them fell away. A new worry arrived in Amos’ mind as they were swallowed up by the mist. “This contraption is sturdy, right?”

 Bakle nodded. “We may not use these very often. But they are well maintained. We won’t fall.”

 “That’s...only slightly reassurin’...”

 “Don’t worry! Only a few more minutes and we’ll be-”

 Whatever reassuring words Bakle was going to offer was cut off. A familiar dart wheezing past all and embedding itself in the wooden ceiling. Just barely missing Papa as well. Dominic, who’d recovered from shock the quickest, leaned over the side. The second cart was filled with C.A.W. agents. Five or six moving the wheel to push them forward while the rest were refilling their dart guns. 

 “Peck necks!” Amos called out, growling darkly. He yelped as he was pulled back. Another round of darts going past and barely missing him. The feeling of panic growing when deep horns sounded, echoing over the mountain and growing stronger as more joined the first. 

 Dominic turned towards the Nomads. “What is that?”

 “Our warning system,” the child answered, “The other carts must have been stolen as well.”

 “It’s a race ta the top then.” Amos muttered weakly. 

 “We’ll be trapped…” The penguin frowned, standing next to the owl. 

 Amos didn’t respond. His attention was focused on the thick vines that were acting as the cable. Eys traveling down to where the ground laid beneath the veil of mist. “How high are we?”

 “Oh, um, a few feet? I’m not really sure. But we are high.” Bakle offered.

 “I see those gears turning Amos,” Dominic frowned, “What are you thinking.”

 “Destroyin’ their means o’ transportation. I’ll need ta cut the cable.” 

 “Amos, that’s suicide, you’ll fall as well!”

 “I’ve survived worse. Besides, I was able ta walk away from that car crash before.”

 “Barely! Amos-”

 The owl reached over, taking Dominic's hands into his own. Effectively cutting the other off. “Just listen. It may not be much, but I’ll be able ta cut their numbers down. I have the best chance at survivin’ this.”

 “Amos-”

 “Ya need ta barricade yourself in the peckin’ temple as best ya can when ya get up there.”

 “How will you get in?”

 “There’s an opening at the very top of the temple. You can drop down to enter.” Bakle offered as a solution.

 “And I just need you to focus on keeping yourself safe. I’ll meet up with you all back in the temple. Alright?”

 Dominic frowned. His hands shaking as he squeezed Amos’. “I...really hate this idea sweetheart.”

 The owl’s face softened, giving a weak smile. “I know… But do ya trust me?”

 “Of course I do.” Dominic’s mind seemed to freeze when Amos’ beak gently pressed against his own. Heart beating furiously as the seconds ticked by.

 Holy peck. Amos was kissing him!

 As his brain finally caught up, Amos had pulled away. Climbing out of the cart and onto the roof. 

 “Amos, you absolute peck neck! You did not just kiss me before jumping to your possible death!” Dominic shouted, leaning out of the cart again to glare at the other director.

 The owl smirked. “I thought ya believed in me?”

 “That does not make you less of a jerk!”

 “Noted… I’ll see ya up there Dominic.”

 “...You’d better Amos…”

 Nothing was left to be said. Taking a deep breath, Amos didn’t allow another second of thought as he jumped. It was a relief grabbing onto the other sturdy vine. A strange comfort in knowing the first step in his plan worked. He didn’t look back, knowing if he did so it would cause him to freeze in fear. Amos concentrated on his free hand. Feeling no pain as flames erupted from it, using it to cut through the vine easily. A sickening sensation filling his stomach as gravity fully kicked in. 

 He could hear the caws and screams coming from the agents as they fell as well. All probably wondering how they were going to get out of this alive.

 But Amos didn’t care about them. Their cries seem drowned out by the rushing winds. His attention on Dominic, who was leaning over the edge of the cart as he watched, helpless, as Amos fell. Face full of fear. The owl wished he could find his voice. To reassure that everything was going to be fine. But too soon his vision was obstructed by the mist. Just as he began to wonder how long this was going to take, Amos collided with something solid. There was a sickening ‘crack!’ before he fully hit the ground and the world turned black.

  When Amos came to, his body was screaming in pain. It hurt to breathe and he was sure his body was trying to put itself back together. But he was alive. Which was the entire point of his idiotic plan, so good to know it wasn’t all for nothing. The sky had begun to turn a dark blue with the horizon being painted numerous pastel colors. It had taken almost to nightfall  to finally recover from the stunt. Or at least recover enough that he could move. 

 Peck, was Dominic alright?

 Letting out a grunt as he slowly sat up, Amos gave himself another moment as he looked around. He was thankfully close to the mountain’s peak. Even able to see part of the mountain that had been carved away. Ignoring the copper smell that lingered in the air, knowing what laid behind him, Amos limped his way forward. He’d done what he needed to do. Now he just need to see how this all was going to end. 

 ________________________

 Dominic was unsure what staring into the mist below would do for him. It certainly wasn’t bringing Amos back. But the penguin seemed unable to turn away. Mind stuck on watching Amos disappear into the white void below them.

 “Um, sir? What do we do now?” Bakle’s voice through. 

 The penguin took a deep breath, setting his face in determination as he faced the Nomads. “How many entrances are there?”

 “Four doorways and the ceiling that I mentioned to the Child.” 

 “Okay. Hopefully we’ll get to the temple before any C.A.W. agents arrive. We’ll barricade the doorways and...wait. I suppose. I just...Amos did have to pull a stunt like that.”

 “I believe in the Child.”

 Dominic sighed weakly. “I do as well… But that doesn’t stop me from worrying.”

 He stumbled slightly as the cart bumped against the mountainside. All clamoring out and rushing towards the doors surrounding the temple. Papa immediately rushed over to the doorway to the right. Closing them and beginning to pile boulders to keep them from opening again. Bakle grabbed Dominic’s hand and directed him towards the doors directly across from them. Passing by a pillared altar with a deep purple feather that seemed to have stars dancing on it. 

 If they all weren’t in mortal peril, Dominic would have marveled at it.

 They reached the double doors and closed them quickly. Dominic put as thick of a layer of ice he could make. “Hopefully that will be enough. Let’s get the other one before-”

 “WHERE IS THAT PHOENIX.”

 “C.A.W. can get in.” Dominic groaned weakly.

 The familiar leading crow stood in the final doorway. A large crowd of agents standing behind them. No longer looking together and smugly in control. Feathers were ruffled, hat off kilter as eyes filled with anger as they flicked around the chamber. Rage grew when he didn’t find his target. 

 “Penguin, where is the Phoenix.”

 “Not here. Obviously,” Dominic glared back, “Your agents made the trip for nothing.”

 “Do not play dumb with us! We did not come all this way here to result in nothing. Tell us where it is!”

 “Are you dumb or just playing the part well? Where in this place do you think we could even hide Amos?” 

 That gave the agent pause. Eyes once again traveling the room, his shoulders dropping slightly. “Well-”

 There was a cry of surprise when a large boulder landed in front of them. All scrambling back as more landed and pushed them back out the doorway. Papa clearly took advantage of the lull in action to go on the offensive. The last way being blocked by a large pile of boulders. Dominic re-enforcing it with another layer of ice. The three let out a deep breath as they finally relaxed. 

 “Your blockade means nothing!” The C.A.W. agent cried out, “Do you really think this will stop us! Creature or not, once we get back in there you will all pay!”

 Bakle rushed over to Papa, hiding behind the larger form. “I don’t like the screaming bird.”

 “I don’t either.” The penguin agreed. Eyes glaring from the blocked doors to the ceiling. A circular hole had been carved there. Showing the sky above, the sun barely starting to dip below the horizon. Stars starting to barely be seen over the darkened colors. 

 “Amos...where are you?”