#but it's fun to imagine that as much bravado he displays

[ireallyshouldbeholdingyou]

While your rendition of living Betelgeuse is an absolute smash❤️‍🔥 I have to say no...

Not because he wasn't handsome or charming, but because he was a grave robber and thus, a social pariah

I headcanon he did have the occasional sexual encounter but he was definitely not drowning in pussy 😔 I know, what a waste

There was a debate the other day in a discord I’m in on wether or not living Betelgeuse got around a lot when he was alive. I’m torn. One one hand he was a dirty grave robber and it was the plague, on the other just look at him! Blonde hair, blue eyes, healthy glow. And I know for a fact he has a big dick. I’ll put it up to a vote.

[lifeofpriya]

What the Heart Wants - Quinn Hughes imagine

[gif credit goes to @gabelandeskog]

This is my entry for @antoineroussel's winter fic exchange 2k23! I had the honor of write this fic for @pcttymcrlecu -- I had so much fun writing this; I usually don't write angsty fics, but it felt great to step out of my comfort zone and try something new. I hope y'all enjoy this fic! :)

*tw Quinn is an a-hole boyfriend in a portion of this fic*

word count: 1.57k

summary: you meet Quinn at a party for the first time after the break-up and emotions spill over…

Your eyes widened, yet your eyebrows were furrowed as you quietly noticed the man who walked into the party -- someone your friend, Anastasia failed to tell you was attending her holiday party. Lowering your head in an effort to not attract attention from him, you politely recused yourself from a conversation you were having with a random stranger and immediately headed for the door.

Anastasia, despite being the host of the party and such, sensed something was up. She soon followed behind you out to the balcony area, where she found you forlornly staring out at the cityscape of Vancouver with misty eyes.

Anastasia held her palms behind her back while looked at you with a grimace. Her mind started to fill with self-loathing thoughts as she internally screamed at herself for what she had done.

Unaware of Anastasia's presence, you were shocked to see her when you turned around. She adopted a slumping posture and dipped her chin to her chest as she stared at you with hesitation.

"I'm not mad at you, Anastasia," you felt your gaze ping-ponging between your friend and the brick wall behind her. Pressing your lips together in a slight grimace, you found yourself repeatedly open and close -- only to find that you were struggling to find the right words to describe the strong emotions that were swirling inside you.

Anastasia flashed a sad smile at you and gave you an understanding nod. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you he was coming to the party, Y/N," she let out a deep sigh; speaking with a gentle tone while tentatively approaching you.

You shook your head and had a small smile displayed on your lips. "It's alright," letting out a sigh, you continued to look out at the cityscape in front of you as you spoke. "Quinn's also one of your friends too…it's only fair that you also invited him to the party, Anastasia."

Anastasia pondered for a bit before she hesitantly spoke, "I'm going to try to stay as neutral as it's possible for me because I know both you and Quinn." She pulled in and then slowly released a deep breath. "But what exactly happened between you and Quinn? You both never told me the reason you broke up…"

You couldn't help but bit your bottom lip and look down from the balcony as you began to talk. "Quinn and I were going through a rough patch in the relationship; there wasn't a day where we could go a full day without screaming our heads off at each other…"

\\

"I am your partner, Quinn," you pressed your lips together and narrowed your eyes at the hockey player in front of you. "You don't have to be a bravado, macho man all the time. You don't have to pretend around me. It's okay to talk about your feelings! You can't just expect me to stand by idly and not say anything about it!" "For the millionth time, Y/N, I told you were aren't going to talk about this anymore." Quinn let a forced laugh and spoke with a challenging tone laced in his voice. "Why can't you just get it through your dense skull that I don't want to talk about this?" "Because it's not healthy to bottle up your feelings and emotions inside you all the time, Quinn!" You couldn't help but raise your voice at your boyfriend; audibly breathing through your nose as you were starting to tire from the argument. "Whatever, I'm not in the mood to talk more about the fact that you're the numbskull…" You rose up from your seated position on Quinn's couch and headed to the kitchen to fetch yourself a glass of water. Quinn couldn't stand there silently and bite the inside of his cheek anymore. "What did you just say?" He could feel his toes curling; his knuckles were turning white as a result of him tightly clasping his hands together. "That you're a numbskull?" You let out a bitter laugh while gulping down the rest of the water left over in the glass. "Let's be honest, you are a numbskull if I ever met one, Quinn…" "Oh, I'm the numbskull?" A quick, disgusted snort escaped from Quinn's lips as he stared at you with a smirk; he rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner and applauded in a deliberately false fashion while he shot daggers at you. "That's rich, coming from you…You are the most clingiest person ever. I never know what I saw in you," he limited his verbal responses as if you weren't even worth talking to. That was the last straw. Your nostrils started to flare, and before you knew it, you could see a faint trace of your handprint on Quinn's cheek. "Lose my number, block me on social media, and anything else you need to do. You and I are through, Hughes…" \\

While he was on his way to the food and drinks table, Quinn heard muffled voices coming from the balcony. When he peered through the window, he saw Anastasia talking to someone he couldn't quite recognize. Little did he know, it happened to be you -- whose heart got broken by him.

When Anastasia slightly looked up from the ground she was previously staring at, she caught a glimpse of Quinn, who was in the midst of a conversation with a fellow partygoer.

"Stay here, I will be back…" She quietly muttered under her breath before drawing back from the conversation. Soon after, she promptly left and blankly stared at Quinn.

"Go talk to Y/N," was all Anastasia whispered into Quinn's ears as she passed by the hockey. "They're out on the balcony."

Anastasia soon disappeared into the crowd of partygoers, and Quinn couldn't help but consciously force his limbs to relax at the mention of your name.

You both split up not too long ago…But why did your name still make Quinn's heart skip a beat? Shaking off any nervousness he felt in his limbs, his hand hesitantly reached for the glass sliding door, which he ever so gently slid just wide enough for him to walk through while he attempted to be as inconspicuous as he ever could.

When you turned around after leaning against the balustrade for a while, surprise and shock could least describe the swirl of emotions that were coursing through your body when you glanced at the man standing just a mere few feet away from you.

"Quinn…" You heard your voice begin to shake while tugging at your clothes with a firm grip. "It's been a while since we last saw each other…How have you been?"

Quinn combed his fingers through his mousy brown hair as he nodded. "Yeah, I guess it has been a while, hasn't it?" He cleared his throat and found himself drawing his mouth into a straight line and chewing nervously on his lip. "I've been okay. How about you, Y/N?"

You offered him a small smile and shrugged your shoulders. "I'm not too bad myself…Work has been a bit stressful but other than that, I've been okay."

Quinn simply nodded and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat. He glanced at you, and then away; a tint crept upon the hockey player's cheeks as he longingly gazed at you.

Where did it all go wrong?

Your voice soon brought him back to reality as you whispered with a gentle tone in your voice. "I miss you…"

Quinn's eyes immediately widened as it registered in his mind what you had just admitted.

"I know I'm not supposed to," the small smile on your lips continued to waver as you spoke. "But I just had to see you, Quinn."

Before you knew it, the sobs you had been choking back for a while finally burst, and soon, you found Quinn's arms tentatively wrapped around your middle as he brought you in for a comforting hug.

"I had to see you too, Y/N," he could feel his chest tighten and a sinking feeling in his stomach as he felt your arms wrap themselves around his back. "I debated back and forth on whether I wanted to come here or not tonight," Quinn felt the tears start to sting his eyes. "But I'm glad I made it here tonight too…God, I missed you so much."

Soon, you and Quinn were sobbing in each other's arms as all of the pent-up emotions just spurted out like a dam.

"I'm so sorry for being a douchebag, Y/N," the hockey player winced onto your shoulder; your shoulders soon started to soak as a result of his tears freely falling onto your shoulders. "I never should have said any of that to you…"

You had a sad smile etched onto your lips as you glanced at Quinn, "what happened in the past is something we can't take back, Quinn." Letting out a deep exhale, you hesitantly cupped Quinn's face in your hands; forcing him to make eye contact with you. "But, if you promise to put in the time and effort for us, maybe we could slowly build back our love."

Quinn silently nodded before you brought him in for a kiss on the cheek, "I promise this time, Y/N. I will do anything and everything in my power to make you happy and rebuild your trust in me."

"Good, because this is your second and last chance.. Don't mess it up again, Hughes…"

[wildernessuntothemselves]

How Do You Do

Word Count: 1.4k

Genre: smut

Summary: Chan is the thottie life guard at your beach that’s been trying to het into your pants since forever but hasn’t exactly earned it. 

“It’s the big event today.” Chan’s voice rings out from over the counter, and you get up from trying to look for a certain bottle of liquor to look at him. ”Will you cheer me on, babe?”

“Depends.” You smirk, pushing your arms against the counter, the action emphasizing your breasts in the bikini top you are wearing and drawing Chan’s attention to your cleavage.  “Only if you put on a good show for me.”

You know he will. He’s always trying to impress you. It’s kinda adorable. And despite his bravado, he blushes at your words and mumbles, “I always put on a show for you.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing!” He yelps, and thrusts a bottle of sunscreen in your hands. You look at him quizzically and he regains his cocky facade. “Help me put the sunscreen on. I don’t want to get sun burned while I’m rocking your world.”

You roll your eyes, “Alright, come back here, handsome.”

Chan obeys, dimples on full display. You stand behind him, squeezing some sunscreen on your hand before smearing it on his shoulder blades. Running your hands along his shoulders and down his bulging arms, you have to admit, the boy is ripped.

As if he can hear what you’re thinking, he says, “You’re focusing so much on my arms, baby. You like my muscles?”

“I do.” You don’t miss a beat, massaging said arms. “Hmm, what a big boy.”

You can’t see his face but you can see the way his ears turn red and you know you’ve successfully flustered him. Satisfied, you let your arms drop to his pecs where you “accidentally” brush your fingers over his nipples and get rewarded with the whimper he clearly tries to hold in. 

For good measure, you sweep over his nipples again, this time eliciting a weak moan from him, before your hands move to his lower abdomen, rubbing the cream in circles and feeling his abs clench under you. 

You know he’s getting turned on, and just for fun, you breathe against his ear as you swirl your fingers just over the waistband of his shorts. Chan shivers and tries to pull away. 

“Okay, t-thank you.” He stutters, moving away but you pull him back against your chest. “I haven’t done your legs yet, baby.” 

“That’s okay. I’ll do them myself.” He struggles to say, but you immediately shut him down. 

“Nonsense.” You say firmly, “Turn around, Channie.” 

He hesitates before obeying, a grimace on his face as he turns around, flustered and taking sneaky glances at you. You don’t even acknowledge the tent in his shorts. Instead, you squirt more sunscreen onto your palm and get on your knees. 

“W-what are you doing?!” Chan yelps, but you just wrap your hands around his calves and work the sunscreen into his skin, making your way up his legs silently, focused. By the time you reach his thighs, he’s panting and his dick is straining against his shorts, almost as if it’s trying to reach your mouth that was just in front of it. Slipping your hands just under the legs of his shorts, you look up at him. His breath hitches as he holds your gaze for a second before you break it and stand up. 

“There. All done.” 

Chan’s knees almost give way and he stares at you in shock. “But---”

“The competition is going to start soon.  Run along now, baby boy. You have some impressing to do.” 

You laugh to yourself as you watch Chan limp to the men’s room.

____________

And boy did he impress. He won all the competitions he participated in. 

Naturally, he was strutting towards you by the end of the day, confident and waiting for you to fawn over him. 

“Look, baby girl. I won.” He puffs his chest out, displaying his trophies for you. 

“You sure did.” You smirk, and he frowns at your lack of fawning. “Don’t I get a reward?”

"What about all those trophies?"

He pouts, setting them on the bar and coming around to you even though he wasn't allowed to do that. "I meant a reward from you."

You cock your head to the side and move close to him, pressing your body against his. “Yeah, like what?”

He pauses for a second, flushing at your closeness, before saying, “A kiss would be nice.” 

You laugh, brushing his hair back. “You’re cute.” 

Chan frowns. “I’m not cute. I’m sexy.” He complains, voice slurring. “When will you take me seriously?”

“Maybe when you stop ordering tons of drinks from me just so you’d have the chance to talk to me.” You say and he whines. “So you know I like you! Why are you playing so hard to get then?”

“Because baby,” You purr, brushing your nose against his. You push him against the counter and place your knee between his legs, pressing your thigh against his dick. “You don’t impress me the slightest bit. I eat boys like you for breakfast.” 

“What do I have to do?” He whimpers, using the chance to grind against your thigh. “I’ll do anything for you.” 

“I know you will.” You kiss along his jaw and down his neck, making him buck harder against your thigh. “I could suck you so good, you wouldn’t have anything else to give another woman. I could edge you so long you’d cum on command. I could fuck you so good, you won’t be able to get your pretty dick off without my pussy again.” 

You bite down on his neck, making him groan and throw his head back in ecstasy. 

“But I won’t. You wanna know why?”

He lets out a weak sad moan, shaking his head at your question and desperately waiting for you to explain. 

“Because you haven’t earned it.”

“How do I earn it?” He says right away, breathless and needy. 

“Prove that you’re more than just a pretty face and show me that you can handle what I have to give.” You explain, running your fingers around his nipple oh-so-slow. “Start by giving yourself a ruined orgasm. If you can handle doing that without trying to save it, then maybe I’ll touch you.” 

______________________

He tries. He tries so much but he always fails, jerking himself off just as he pushes himself over the edge, unable to take the pain that comes with cumming untouched. 

Weeks pass by, and you feel disappointed. You really thought Chan could do it. But maybe he figured it would be easier to get a girl that would let him fuck her without any ifs or buts, and he had no shortage of that. He’s gorgeous for fuck’s sake. So yeah, you’re disappointed. You shouldn’t have put so much faith in a fuckboy like him. 

But then he surprises you. 

You had just participated in a wet t-shirt contest, not really taking into consideration if Chan will watch you or not. You figured he had already given up on you. But he shows up, standing in the audience and never taking his eyes off of you, not even sparing a glance to the other girls. You can feel his gaze eat your body up as the water turns your white shirt transparent and makes it stick to your braless tits, highlighting your nipples that pebble in the cold and seem to be the focus of Chan's transfixation.

By the time you step off the stage, he had dissapeared from the audience. But you don't have to wait long to know where he went as you promptly receive a message from him. It’s a video of him in what you recognize to be the lifeguard changing rooms. You can see him wearing the navy blue swim shorts he was wearing this morning, and right in the middle is his outlined and very hard dick straining against the material. You see his veiny hands twist around the top of it, giving him stimulation that nearly pushes him over the edge as it is. But he stops before it gets anywhere. 

Placing his hands on either side of his shorts, he alternatively tugs on them, moving the material over his hard dick. "Ah hurts baby…” He cries out as if you could hear him, “So sensitive… ahh AHHH…" 

You rub your thighs together at the scene in front of you. Watching Chan squirm and try to not touch his dick is hotter than you ever imagined. 

"Am I doing good?” He breathes out wantonly, and you can see his dick twitching behind his shorts. “Is this making you wet baby? Please tell me this is making you wet because I'm going crazy. Need you to like this."

You do like it. You like it so much. 

“You looked so good up there. Wanted to push you down and cum all over your tits so everyone will know that you’re mine. Hated how they were all gawking at my girl…”

It doesn’t take Chan long to cum, he was already so riled up by watching the white shirt you were wearing do nothing to conceal your hard, perked nipples under it. He wanted to so bad to fuck your tits and cum on your face, but he knew he had to earn it. So that’s what he was doing, putting on a good show for you so you’d let him fuck you.

You see his dick twitch before the white cum seeps through his shorts, making a mess and making you wish he was there so you could jump on him and ride his dick until he cries from overstimulation. 

You know he’ll take it well too. He’s been waiting so long for it. 

Opening up the chat, you type in a message. 

“Stay where you are, pup.”

___________

[claralaclarividente-fics]

Rosegarden Week- Day 1: Cuddles

Hello friends!! First day of Rosegarden Week, let’s keep this sweet week going!

______________________

“Don’t worry lil sis, you’ll be able to come when you grow up big and strong like me!” Yang yelled from the door, one arm wrapped around Blake’s shoulder and the other wrapped around Weiss.

“Yeah, Ruby. Don’t worry, you’ll get there soon.” Enthused Weiss, continuing to tease Ruby.

The girl in question only shot daggers at her friends and burrowed deeper in her cocoon of blankets.

Blake regarded her leader with a look of sympathy but decided against saying anything. She herself had been at that age that she wanted to be more independent, do grown up things, but then landed herself in Adam’s clutches. Rookie mistake of burning stages when time is your best ally.

Checking her scroll, Blake announced the time, and tugged on the blonde’s arm lightly. Burn as she might have been, Blake decided that being in Yang’s clutches was way better.

“Kay, Rubes! We´re leaving!” Weiss nudged Yang’s side and pulled, rolling her eyes.

No answer.

Ruby wrapped herself in a blanket, grumbling at her sister’s farewell from the door, too engrossed in her musings to truly care for a goodbye. The door closed mutedly, a gust of wind shuddered the windowpanes, and still Ruby fumed silently.

It had finally happened. Ruby’s most embarrassing moment of her life, one that no one would let her live down.

Even after all this time of fighting Grimm and being promoted to Huntress status, Ruby still got thrown out of a nightclub, planting her butt on a bank of snow, because she was 17 and thus, still considered a minor.

Twice.

‘It’s just so unfair!’, Ruby thought after brooding a bit more in furious quiet. ‘I risk my butt out there every day, and I can’t have fun!’. While very true, it was the middle of winter, and her coming of age birthday would not come for another year.

A few minutes passed before her mood lifted a bit. She had been putting off exploring the Atlas Academy kitchens, as well as their rec room. She was free to do as she pleased. Sighing softly, she shook the remaining grumpiness from her shoulders and rolled out of bed. She still had on the clubbing clothes Weiss had chosen for her: red shimmery top and black leather coupled with soggy tights after being pushed down a snowbank twice.

Peeling off her street wear, Ruby clad herself in her favorite long-sleeved pajama set, and wrapped a gray fleece blanket around her shoulders as she walked out the door.

She was gonna have some fun tonight, even if it were by her lonesome.

__________________________________________

Oscar hummed as he worked on incorporating the eggs into the sugary butter mixture in his bowl. He was in such a good mood, even after all his friends had gone out to party like hooligans. He was sure that the coming tales from the partying teens would make his breakfast much more interesting.

The academy kitchens were at his full disposition and Oscar was too much of a homebody to care that he was alone. He had dressed in his Nora-Issued Pumpkin Pete patterned pajama set (all members of team JNPR just had to match!) and a fluffy brown robe loosely tied to his waist. His shoulders were relaxed and with ease he found himself whisking away in his own world of warmth and coziness. He had forgone the bandages for the night, as his teammates would be long before they come back to their dorm and had applied some scarring salve to his neck.

He felt at ease, with his neck scars uncovered and airing out. They itched like they normally did after so long under bandages, but he avoided touching his itchy neck while he was cooking.

He threw in a handful of chocolate chips to the mixture as he fell back to his thoughts.

Nora and Yang would for sure bring the funniest anecdotes of the night, seconded only with Jaune’s string of guys and girls that would surely go after his “earnest and boyish allure”, as one of the Mantle moms had put it. Oscar chuckled at the thought of Jaune not understanding how he got a fanclub in the first place as he measured the cup of flour.

Slowly, so as to not overwhelm the cookie dough with the Atlesian flour (he preferred the one that his neighbors manufactured at their mill), he spooned a bit of the flour as he felt relaxing again. He imagined that each spoonful was one individual problem or obstacle of his day, and as he released it into the bowl, he felt letting go of his daily troubles. He inhaled deeply through his nostrils like Maria had taught him and was about to release slowly through his mouth.

Except.

“Whatcha doing, Oscar?”, an inquisitive voice startled him into a surprised gasp as a cloud of flour filled his field of vision. Both teens spluttered and coughed as flour got into their airways.

“M-milk!” groaned Oscar, his eyes stinging as his throat constricted painfully. Through the massive hacking, Ruby found the milk and uncapped it fast, and delivered it with a slap to Oscar’s chest.

Oscar took one gulp of milk and slammed the carton on the counter, his coughing fit reduced but not contained. Ruby took the carton then and had a swig herself before slamming it back on the counter, Oscar taking it then, and so on and so forth.

After the milk had been drank, the two teens slumped on the counter as evil (in the form of non glutinous Atlesian flour) had tried to take them to an early grave.

Winded out and cheeks planted on the cold countertop, they looked at each other and gave a giggly sigh.

“So…what were you doing before almost dying at age fourteen?”, Ruby asked as she booped him on the cheek.

He blushed lightly and sat back up as he slid the bowl of cookie dough to Ruby.

“Chocolate chip cookies.” He answered simply as he watched the black-haired girl taste a spoonful of dough. She wiggled in her seat.

“Man, this is good!” She said enthusiastically before a deadpan Oscar plopped a whole cup of flour into the bowl Ruby was digging her spoon back in. She pouted as he resumed his whisking around.

Oscar worked in silence, as Ruby watched his every move. He made baking look like a meditative process and looked so in the zone that she dared not to speak.

It was only as he planted the last of the dough using an ice cream scoop that he spoke up again.

“And I’m fifteen, by the way.”

The way that Ruby screeched her surprise made him stumble a bit, as he looked bewildered at her.

__________________________________________

Ruby paced back and forth in front of Oscar as he held a jar of freshly baked cookies in his lap. This particular rec room they were in had been loaned specifically for their group, seeing as General Ironwood in true Atlesian fashion, liked to play favourites and offered a ‘special housing arrangement for such a special group’.

The girl finished the last bite of her cookie, and as she gulped down, she turned to look at Oscar.

“March. The. Twentieth.” He shrank slightly as he passed another cookie to the fuming teen in front of him.

“Yep.”

“We are in APRIL! THE! TWENTIETH!”

“Mhm.”

“A whole month passed!” He just looked at her as she inhaled the cookie in her hand. She turned back to him and shook his shoulders slightly, “Why didn’t you tell us!?”, he just shrugged.

“I lost track of time; I swear! We were all just so busy training, and going to missions, and stuff…”

“But you didn’t go to any missions you just trained with the General!”

Oscar just rubbed his arm, looking at a cookie as he seemingly inspected it for imperfections. He sat silently as he willed his face to not heat up under such strong scrutiny.

Ruby bit her lip as she realized that he had not gone to any missions, but she and the rest did.

“Ah.” She said, suddenly feeling quite lame as she wrapped herself tighter in her blanket. Ruby watched as Oscar nibbled on a cookie, collecting his thoughts. She sat down on the couch with him shoulder to shoulder, her bravado gone.

They sat in silence munching on cookies for a bit, before Ruby jumped up and dashed away in a flurry of red petals, leaving Oscar mulling the past minutes over and over again.

Sitting there alone he thought about how silly it became to him that he halfheartedly hoped for Ruby to come back. Just as he was dusting himself off, Ruby reappeared in front of him carrying bulks of blankets under both arms.

“Meet me in my dorm in like ten, kay?” she said hurriedly as she tucked the sofa cushion under her chin and bolted back to her dorm.

Oscar felt a flurry of nervousness, and giddiness at the pit of his stomach, which he tried to stomp with yet another cookie.

Deciding to get the rest of the cookies, he walked back to the kitchen and prepared a basket with whatever he could find.

__________________________________________

“Woah.” Oscar had been caught unaware and surprised many times over since he joined the ragtag group of hunstmen rookies, he had seen horrors beyond his imagination, and his fate revealed cruelly in front of his very eyes. He had also seen bouts of astounding magic and impossible things. He had done impossible things.

But he had never been surprised silly by the simplest of things. Like this. Oscar felt a special type of warmth in his heart as he watched as Ruby applied the last touches to the most spectacular pillow fort he had seen in his life.

Somehow, she had found fairy lights and attached them to a canopy of blankets over the nest of pillows and sofa cushions that lay arranged in a very cozy manner on the floor. It looked comfy as hell and knowing Atlas’ penchant for luxurious materials for the tiniest of things, he had no doubt that the pillows were heavenly soft and plush.

He swept his gaze to Ruby as she set her scroll on top of some books, the camera facing a wall and in projector mode as it displayed a frozen still from a movie (or something). He sniffled a bit, touched by the barest of details, and his eyes pricked ever so lightly.

Hearing the quiet sniffle, Ruby whirled around and caught him misty eyed. In a panic, she rushed to him and squished his cheeks as she shushed him.

“Not! No crying today, Oscar. We´re gonna watch comedies and gorge ourselves in food till we enter a food coma.” Oscar nodded, his cheeks and ears heating up as Ruby continued to press her palms to his face.

Oscar had felt the rush of blood to his veins before, but it was always under perilious circumstances. Never before had a friend (definitely not a crush!) done something so touching and…homey. Like this.

“Mm mwot gwon cwa, boh plis rewt me gwo.” Ruby blinked at the unintelligible string of sounds that left Oscar’s pinched lips. Realizing she had squeezed his cheeks for too long, she let go immediately.

“Oh! He-hee. Oops, my bad.” She stammered, suddenly embarrassed.

“It’s ok. I got some of the fancy stuff that Winter keeps sending Weiss but that she doesn’t actually like.” He said, lifting the basket up for Ruby to inspect.

After accepting his offer of cold meat cuts and fancy-difficult- to-pronounce cheeses, Oscar and Ruby settled on the nest of soft blankets and plush pillows on the floor.

“Kay,” Ruby began as she went over tonight’s movie selection, “I got The Yuletide, about a girl living in a cottage in Mistral and another lady in a mansion in Atlas who swap homes for the holiday. I also got Huntsman Trap, about two estranged huntress trainees who get into the same Academy, discover they are twins and set up their big-name Huntsmen parents who got divorced. Or! The Pink Manticore, a crazy detective from Vacuo joins forces with experts to find the fabled Pink Manticore, a huge pink diamond that is rumoured to be possessed.”

Oscar scratched his chin deep in thought as he hugged a pillow to his chest.

“Mhm… How about the twin movie?”

Ruby grinned. She had already selected the movie.

_________________________________________

After watching two of Ruby’s movie selections and eating sweet and savory foods until they could no longer accept one more crumb, both teens plopped down the pillows and burrowed in the fluffy blankets contentedly.

Ruby had turned off the fairy lights, and her scroll was projecting on their canopy of blankets overhead the pinpricks of the night sky.

Oscar was looking at the soft flecks of lights, flickering like they would under the winter night. His hands rested lazily on his full stomach, his left hand every so often pointing at the makeshift heavens.

“What’s that… smoky section of the sky?” Ruby asked, her right hand pointing at the general direction of the splattering of spots above.

Oscar narrowed his eyes a bit, pulling a memory not his own, but soon to become, out of the recesses of his soul.

“That’s the Seafoam River, we can’t really see it because of pollution, but many years ago it was brighter than the Moon.” He explained.

Ruby ‘aah-ed’ and looked at the stripe of stars and nebulae. She turned her body slightly to look at him, her palm under her chin.

“I have a question.” She said simply, her stare was hot platinum, intense and burning into his very soul.

Oscar turned his body to mirror hers and noticed her steadfast gaze. Feeling blood rush to his neck, he realized with a jolt that his scars were visible and had been for the entirety of the night. His hand flew fast to the side of his neck, shielding as much as he could the reminder of his childhood trauma.

“I… This is from the day my parents died.” He confessed. Ruby made a sound at the back of her throat, confused. “Can’t remember well, but a Grimm-“

“That wasn’t it!” Ruby interrupted as she grabbed his hand in hers, shaking Oscar out of his memories. “Just wanted to ask what type of farm you had, that’s all!” Oscar let a soft ‘oh?’, surprised. “But if you feel ready to tell me about it, I am here.”

Oscar shook his head.

“Sorry! I just thought… I didn’t want to scare you off with this.” He pointed at the cris-crossed scarred pattern in his neck.

Ruby giggled softly as she squeezed his hand.

“Oscar, my sister lost her arm and Weiss and Blake all have scars. We all do. We just gotta… accept them for the gift of a second chance that they are.”

Slowly, Oscar laid back down on his back. His long mile stare bore holes on the piece of fabric over their heads as he just laid there pensive.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to… I can put on another movie from our selection, its fine!” Ruby sat up quickly to select the Pink Manticore, the funny Vacuoan noir comedy, when she felt Oscar tug at their still joined hands. She squeezed his hand softly.

“Actually, I always dreamed about getting sheep so I could collect their wool and make dyed yarn and maybe sell it down by the town square.”

Smiling softly, Ruby settled back down and tuned to Oscar as he explained the process of shearing and dying wool.

Over time, the conversation petered out in between yawns and strenuous effort to keep awake. The last thing Ruby saw was Oscar’s eyelashes brushing his cheeks as he finally fell asleep, his face relaxed and content.

Looking at their held hands between their bodies, she felt happier than she had been in a very long time. She had finally gotten to learn more about her friend, and feeling particularly close and placid, she let sleep wash over her.

_________________________________________

“Aw man, look at this!” Whisper-yelled Yang from the doorway to their dorm before she got loudly shushed by a barely sober Weiss.

The white-haired huntress was standing impossibly slanted, forty-five degrees to her right as she tried (in vain) to regain her composure, while Yang looked on the scene before her from the door.

“They. Are. Sleeping!” Weiss complained to her blonde teammate, who shushed her back sarcastically.

Irritated, Weiss began shushing Yang as she mimicked the white-haired girl back, initiating an argument expressed in overly dramatic shushing.

Blake and Ren shared a long-time suffering look, peeking out close enough to the door but not too much, avoiding Nora who fell asleep in the middle of the hallway, standing straight up, holding on to a stop-sign she had nicked from Mantle.

Jaune looked at Ruby and Oscar, both looking impossibly cozy as they cuddled in their pillow nest. They hugged lightly in their sleep, snoring softly and unaware of their friends looking at their snuggle.

“Look at them!” Jaune exclaimed softly, blue eyes soft and fond as he regarded his younger teammates. “They are headbutting their foreheads together!”

Blake poked her head into the room to see better and hummed.

“I get what they are trying to say. Headbutting is a whole declaration.” She said sagely, her ears twitching over her head. Blinking, she turned to the hallway as she heard someone approaching. She cocked her head when she saw who it was.

“Hey, Penny.”

“Salutations my friends!” The red-haired android girl exclaimed happily.

Weiss stopped her shushing match with Yang and slowly turned to Penny.

“Penny! Hush! Look at them they are sleeping!” she slurred.

Penny engaged her lock-on optics to scan Weiss quickly.

“Oh! It seems that you have been inebriated!”

Weiss spluttered indignantly.

Deciding to leave the dorm for the time being, Jaune pushed his way out of the dorm and closed the door.

“Hey guys, maybe we should simmer down a little bit.” Jaune said, pointing at the closed door as he tried to her the group further down the corridor.

Yang chuckled.

“Yeah! Looks like Ruby and Oscar need to catch up on their sleep to grow big and strong.” A chorus of giggles echoed as the group tried to stifle their laughter while Penny looked on confused.

“Sleep? But if I came here to wait exactly forty-five minutes until your usual waking time?”

Weiss snapped out of it suddenly.

“Are you telling me its already five a.m.?!”

__________________________________________

Later that day Marrow noticed that the kids from Beacon all seemed lethargic and whiny, compared to their usual selves. Their reaction times were off and seemed confused. Frankly, it was like herding cats that day.

Marrow decided to take Ruby and Oscar, who were spry and looking fresh, on a stake out with him by the Solitas’ mines instead. During the entire mission, Oscar and Ruby seemed to have a new spring on their steps, and in Marrow’s opinion, he had once again stuck babysitting more lovesick fools.

———-

Hope you enjoyed this tiny drabble! Cross posted on AO3, you can find me as ClaraLaClarividente 😗

[sorcererrezan]

golden hour

prompt fill for @ataleofcrowns. congratulations on the chapter 6 release cherry! 💛

prompt: facade pairing: navid/xelef  rating: T word count: 2,042 warning: spoilers for X’s scene during chapter 6!

—

Xelef is rather partial to the color gold.

Gold meant a full belly. Gold meant a job well done. Gold meant having survived yet another battle.

Gold motivated him and the people around him. Gold got him into trouble as easily as it got him out of it.

So when gold eyes looked defiantly into his, a spark of light brightening that nebulous place where his intuition resides, and dropped a heavy sack clinking with a familiar sound, there was no other option but to say yes.

Xelef’s not quite sure when he starts thinking of the flash of cleverness in Navid’s eyes more than the sparkle of coin. 

Just the night before, Heval forced him to examine this new tendency and why they haven’t yet moved on from Marabad. He’d resisted giving Heval the satisfaction of his admission at the time, but that was before his tendency powered his sprint to the tunnels and the burst of fire that kept Navid safe. 

If Xelef’s urgency directed his aim closer to the kill than he intended, it was only because he wanted to do a thorough job. Certainly not because for a split second, the jagged edges of fear pierced through the hard acceptance that has fused with the shell of his heart. 

That was before he discovered just how common of an enemy he and Navid have. Before gold also became something to defend instead of just throw at his leisure.

He didn’t divulge anything to the Blades besides the public warning that the Palace issued—which he still disagrees with, but spirits know there’s a reason it’s not him making those decisions. 

Xelef felt Heval’s questioning suspicion curb somewhat, as well as the Blades’ recommitment to Navid. It helped him regain some stability in himself. As long as he’s not the only one with a soft spot for the newfound Crown he can tell himself that the way Navid affects him isn’t unique. 

None of them had embraced Navid until his tears and the grip of his nightmare dissipated though. The intensity of Navid’s vulnerability had stunned him that night. Xelef thinks he might be able to relate to the way that his walls must have crumbled under their own weight during that moment, when the relief of a mission accomplished finally gave way to exhaustion. If he ever experiences it for himself, that is. 

Instead of being unsettled by the raw display of emotion he’d had to insist on leaving Navid behind, lest the way his eyes wavered like coins at the bottom of a fountain compelled him to do something neither of them were ready for. 

Despite the magnetic tension between them, he knows that they don’t trust each other. He’d considered Navid’s feelings only briefly when he conceived his plan before deciding to just deal with the consequences. 

Well, now here they are. He’d anticipated how Navid might feel once his shrewd mind pieced it all together, but Xelef hadn’t foreseen how much he’d care. 

It needles at him, the way Navid takes his motivations regarding coin at face value when they discuss the coronation. And it needles at him that it needles at him. That’s what he wants the Crown to believe anyway, right? 

The dissonance isn’t really something he wants to entertain so he distracts himself by distracting Navid. 

It’s rather more fun to catch the Crown staring at him than contemplate why there’s a kernel of him that anticipates an opportunity to be seen. Not just looked at as he so often is, up for strangers’ interpretation as he is now so used to, but seen. 

The gold in Navid’s eyes is alive in a way coin could never be. There’s a playfulness that seems to live in Navid’s irises, which Xelef’s learning is partly a diversion for the cunning survivalist underneath. 

Xelef stares right back, shameless in the way he parts the seam of his lips to drag his tongue across the bottom before letting Navid see how the plump softness of it gives under his thumb. He delights in darkening that sparkling mischief into something imaginative and promising and it’s not long before he gives the two of them a reason to leave the room together. The indulgently sly way that Navid looks at him insists that Xelef get him alone. 

Awareness thrums between them as they walk together, but he can sense a contemplative mix of emotions from the man next to him. It’s enough to make him curious. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Oh, nothing much, only the fact that I’m now responsible for millions of lives,” Navid is just as practiced as he is at showing who he’s supposed to be. If Xelef couldn’t sense his anxiety he might’ve believed his blithe tone.

The stakes are high and Xelef can feel the weight of that reality on Navid’s shoulders as if it sits on him like a pauldron. It’d be a flattering and dashing pauldron the way Navid wears it, but a symbol of conflict and its inevitable consequences nonetheless. 

Xelef meets the slight bite of Navid’s sarcasm with his pragmatism, forged in fire and quenched to harden like steel. “If you obsess over the weight of your choices, you’ll become paralyzed by fear, and in that state you’re of no use to anyone.”

Navid eyes are sharp as he seems to consider not just his words but also his intent. Whatever he decides to himself seems to satisfy him because some of the spark in his eyes returns. Xelef wonders what conclusion Navid came to, to look at him like he knows something Xelef doesn’t. 

He thinks he sees some relief in there too, and Xelef tells himself it relieves him in turn because he needs the Crown to be clear-headed and not because of the possibility that sharing his genuine perspective might have made him rise in Navid’s esteem.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Xelef steers them back into familiar waters with a self-satisfied twist of his lips. “I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”

Navid lets out a huff of a chuckle. He must be more exhausted than he let on because they slide into silence again. Xelef’s attempt at distracting Navid is successful though and soon enough he’s unable to contain his amusement. Xelef puffs up at the suggestion of his altruism, sliding back into the easy role of carefree rogue. 

“Altruistic? Pah! Disgusting.”

But Navid promptly tugs at his facade. “You can drop the act, you know. I know you’re not wholly selfish at heart.”

“Is that what you really think, or is that what you hope for?” A devious rhythm softens the quick reflexes of his defenses even as his heart starts to race. Being exposed is terrifyingly thrilling. Or thrillingly terrifying. Both? 

“You do like to perform. The role of carefree mercenary suits you well, I admit. But that can’t be all that there is to you.”

Navid pins him with piercing gold and Xelef hardly realizes as he’s backed against a window. It’s been a long time since anyone cared to find out who he really is as much as Navid ostensibly does. 

Navid steps close enough that he has to tilt his chin down to hold his gaze and even he can’t deny that the proximity makes him feel like a live wire, like his pulse itself might jump out of his skin so it can press against the man who’s always so tantalizingly near.

Xelef considers that he might have met his match in Navid with a smirk.

Navid already has a decently apt approximation of him, despite Xelef’s penchant for misdirection and the fact that they’ve only really known each other a handful of days. Xelef’s moved quickly in the past but never quite like this. 

But then again, nothing gets him into trouble as easily as gold.

“Navid.” 

Xelef reaches a hand out, soothing a knuckle against the slightly puckered scar on Navid’s cheek. He’ll have to ask him the story behind it soon.

“If you wish for me to treat you tenderly, you need only ask.”

It comes out as a gentler murmur than he intends. Xelef doesn’t need to speak up to be heard after all, with how much closer Navid gets as he anchors a rough hand on top of his. It’s as close to an acknowledgement of Xelef’s complex and often contradictory thoughts and emotions about the man in front of him—the ones he prefers to leave unaddressed because they leave him feeling uncomfortably bare.

“Don’t tempt me, Xelef,” Navid’s voice is rough with restraint as his thick brows furrow with caution. “I’ll start believing you.”

“I lie about a lot of things, my dark-haired beauty, but never about this.”

“That’s a lie,” Navid purses his lips, eyes narrowing even as he considers his own assertion. It’s a look that Xelef has seen on him before, usually around a table with others, as Navid weighs the reality of what he knows against the possibilities of what he doesn’t to figure out how to move forward.

Just like earlier, Xelef feels the foreign compulsion for Navid to have confidence in him. It’s been a while since he cared to prove himself to anyone, and even now his better sense is reminding him that the distance he places between himself and others is there out of necessity. If he weren’t deep in the shit of it he’d find it amusingly fitting that they can both see glimpses past each other’s bravado. Of course the person that interests him most is also the one that directly challenges him to leave the familiarity of his facade.

“Perhaps.”

He doesn’t confirm or deny it, though it’s getting harder and harder to ignore his hope that Navid will just figure it out and acknowledge it for both of their sakes. Whether his evasiveness is a test of Navid’s understanding of him or his own hesitation to be understood, he can’t determine. 

Neither can Navid it seems, because he redirects them to less murky waters. “And what is this, exactly?”

Xelef doesn’t answer immediately, taking his time to admire the sharp lines of Navid’s handsome face to reinforce his memory of it for later, after they part for the night.

“Right now? I would call this a flirtation,” this part is easy to admit. Flirtation comes naturally to both of them. He’s noticed the easy compliments Navid gives to others, how he effortlessly keeps those he thinks he might have use for close. His motives seem genuine enough—Xelef himself knows what the line between manipulation and exploitation looks like—though his charisma certainly has a craftily calculating edge to it. 

“But we can make it anything you want it to be.”

Xelef leaves the rest up to Navid’s astute interpretation. An acute sense of anticipation holds him in place as Navid opens his mouth to respond and Xelef internally wills him to see—

—Magic displaces above Navid’s head, and the breath Xelef had been holding spills out as a laugh. Whatever Navid was about to say is swept up in him trying to recover from the spirits giving him away. 

Ah well. At least he’ll have something to tease Navid about later.

Xelef doesn’t question how easy it is to insist that he keep his dagger with him. What would it mean if he and Navid use the same blade the first time they have to kill? Maybe it wouldn’t mean anything at all, but it reassures him that even if he’s away he can still be there for Navid when it happens, when the world inexorably reminds him of why he’ll always have to protect himself.

Is that altruism? When he tries to correct his own buried regrets by helping someone else avoid having the same ones?

Even more questions he’s not sure he wants to find the answers to. 

But when he feels Navid’s resolve solidify inside him, sees the squaring of his shoulders as he lifts his gaze from the designs on his door and takes a steadying breath before stepping inside, Xelef knows he’ll have to accept that it might not end up being up to him anyway.

Gold just might be the death of him.

fin.

author’s note: i’ve been wanting to do a character study in X’s perspective for a while and there were so many LAYERS to their scene in chapter 6 that i took a one word prompt and wrote two thousand words about it lmao. i wanted to explore the duality between X’s persona and their actions and set a starting point for them early in the romance. 

there’s a really delicious tension right now when they’re not acknowledging their deeper interest in the crown despite the fact that they’re always eye fucking whenever they can so much as see each other. i also wanted to play with the fact that they both know that there’s more than meets the eye and ALSO that they’re being manipulated in the grander scheme of their own personal agendas. 

i also wanted to mold navid’s characterization from the perspective of someone trying to resist falling in love with him. spoiler alert X, it’s impossible. anyways! so many thoughts, head full of X. hope i did my favorite royal boy toy justice 🤎

[forever-rogue]

Reader meets Agent Whiskey at a wedding for someone they both know.

Yee Haw, friends, I hope you enjoy :)

»»————-　♡　————-««

You had to work hard to keep from rolling your eyes so obviously. Internally would have to do for now. Tugging at the itchy material of the overly priced dress you were wearing, a small sigh escaped your lips. Oops.

It wasn't that you hated weddings but you just...hated weddings. To you, they were old fashioned trivial and over the top displays that would be pointless in a few months or years when the seemingly happy couple divorced. But here you were anyway. You would have skipped the event all together if the bride hadn't been your coworker. The rest of your office was there too, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves. Clearly they didn't share your sentiments.

At least you had the open bar to keep you company. Not knowing anyone else at the wedding didn't exactly provide for a fun time and no one seemed to be interested in mingling with anyone out of their own circle. Now it was all about figuring out when you could leave without leaving too early or overstaying your welcome.

Your eyes were glued to your phone as you nursed your jack and coke, wasting time and scrolling Instagram. At least everyone on there seemed to be having a good time. You were about to make a snarky comment to yourself when the chair across the otherwise empty table scraped, causing you to look up. A man wearing a silly Stetson but a dazzling smile looked back at you. You couldn't decide if you were more amused or turned on.

"Is this seat taken?" of course. Of course he'd have a soft southern lilt to his warm voice. You shook your head and gestured to the open table.

"All yours cowboy," your cheeks flushed almost immediately after the words came out of your mouth. The last part of that had been meant for yourself more than anything else. He let out a warm laugh as he plopped down into the seat and tipped his beer in your direction.

"Cowboy, huh?" the corners of his mouth pulled into a smile as you nodded slowly. He took the hat off and placed it on the table, "why's that?"

"The hat was a part of it," you admitting, hiding your face behind your drink. Was this man already making you feel like s shy school girl when he'd barely said more than a few words? Either he was good or you were getting desperate, "it's the whole vibe."

"Never thought of myself as much of a cowboy," he watched you closely and you felt naked under his gaze. How did he manage to make you feel so shy and small without everyone doing anything? He took a swig of his beer, "what's a pretty lady like yourself doing all alone? Shouldn't you be out there dancing?"

"This lady doesn't quite like weddings," you admitted with a raise of your eyebrows, "and I don't really know anyone else here...so I'm trying to figure out soon I can leave without bring rude."

"Your honesty is refreshing," he remarked as you struggled your shoulders. You could mentally slap yourself for trying to play coy. It was a wedding you didn't want to be at and here you were trying to pick up a stranger? That was a new low, even for you, "I'm not a big fan of weddings myself. A waste of time and money, but I do enjoy a nice beer and some decent company."

“Not sure that weak brand of piss water qualifies as nice beer,” you were definitely feeling a sudden surge of bravado through your bones, wanting to test the waters with this relative stranger. But hell, there was something about him that you were inexplicably drawn to, “nor do I believe I qualify as decent company.”

“I suppose that’s fair enough,” he agreed, tongue darting out and wetting his plush lips. You suddenly found yourself wondering how it would feel to kiss those them. You’d never made out with a man with only a mustache before and it left you curious, “bride or groom?”

Your eyes widened for a second before you realized what he meant. Was he getting closer and closer to you, or was that just your imagination? You pushed your hair out of your face, trying to maintain as much of a coy persona as you could muster up, “Bride. Although I wouldn’t necessarily call her a friend. We’re just coworkers, and everyone else from the office came, so I felt like I had to be here...keeping up appearances, you know?”

“Oh trust me, I know all too well,” he agreed and thoughtfully rubbed his chin, “I work with the groom. Not often, nor would I wager we’re very close. But when the boss man tells you to come, you don’t say no.”

“Cheers to that,” you held up your glass in a mock salute and downed the rest of it in one go. Your mysterious companion watched you in awe, amazed that you could hold your liquor so well, but followed suit before finishing off his beer. You checked your watch, and noticed that some time had passed. You could finally leave without being rude, “well, it appears I can make a socially acceptable exit, so I’m going to do exactly that.”

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked as you stood up, making you stop in your tracks and look back at him. Should you really be agreeing to go out without a strange man you had just met? Probably not. Were you going to do it anyway? Hell yeah.

“Only if it’s far away from here,” you said with a smile, “and you promise you’re not going to murder me.”

“Well, darlin’,” he stood up and reached for his hat as he started to follow you, “I can promise you I’m not a murderer, and I can assure you I’ll take somewhere much better than here. How would you like a private tour? Do you like whiskey?”

“Yes?” you raised an eyebrow, “this is all a euphemism for sex by the way? Because if you want to fuck, you can always just say that.”

He roared with laughter at your bluntness, throwing his head back. It had been a while since he had met someone like you; funny, honest, and straight to the point, “It actually wasn’t, but if that’s what you want, I have no qualms with that either.”

“Oh,” your cheeks warmed up as you realized how silly you must have sounded, “well, we’ll just ignore that happened for now. Let’s go.”

“Perfect,” part of you knew you shouldn’t be doing this, but something in your gut was pushing you to do it anyway. You could tell you could trust him. He offered his hand to you and you took it without hesitation, “I think you’re going to enjoy this.”

“Hmm,” you hummed in content, just when you realized...”by the way am I ever going to learn your name? Doesn’t a gentleman usually introduce himself probably to a lady?”

“Daniels,” he said with a small smirk, “Jack Daniels.”

You snorted with laughter, unable to contain the sounds from escaping your lips, “like the alcohol?! You’ve got to be kidding me! No way!”

“I am being completely honest, sugar,” he insisted, deciding he liked the sounds of your laughter; they were pretty, musical even, “a man doesn’t joke about such matters!”

“Well, Jack Daniels,” you stopped and turning to him, holding out your hand, “I’m Y/N L/N. It’s a real pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” he insisted, taking your hand and giving it a firm shake, “but later the pleasure will be all yours.”

[gallavictorious]

11x01 Reaction Post

Random thoughts on and reactions to 11x01; no careful analysis or anything, just the bits and pieces that's not likely to make it into meta proper but which I still want to make note of so I can go back later and remember what my initial reaction to the episode was (since my impressions are likely to change as the season unfolds). Mostly Gallavich related, because duh, but there's disordered rambling on a bit of everything. Under a cut (God I miss LJ sometimes) because this got long.

Ian looks damned good as the homocidal muscle. I don't do AU:s, but if I did... On the other hand, Frank as a member of the Chicago “Eight” looks like a werewolf. Less interested in that AU. And listen, I get that they couldn't get Emmy Rossum for this, but I really miss Fiona showing up in a few random olden day pictures. She's gone, but she's still a Gallagher dammit! Carl at the slaughter house looked weird – and part of me thought that was appropriate because slightly off editing would be a sweet way of communicating that it's all bollocks, but the rest of shots looked okay (Debbie as a milk maid and Frank as the aforementioned werewolf) or good (everything else) so no.

The sound of a baby crying is a horror matched only by persistent lack of sleep so I feel for Lip and Tami so much. Here's to all parents who managed to get through the first year without murdering anybody! I think that maybe you don't get enough credit... I, for instance, want to kill someone just hearing Freddie cry in the background for half a minute. Not sure it bodes too well for their relationship for them to be so ready to spend every night apart like Lip suggests, but a, what wouldn't you do for a good night's sleep, and b, love the thought of Lip spending more time at the old house. Could see them breaking up during the course of the season, though. Not sure how I feel about that – Tami's my favourite out of Lip's love interests, but having too many of the couples staying together all through the finale wouldn't feel quite right (for Shameless) and I don't see them breaking up Ian and Mickey or Kev and V. Don't really expect Sandy or Debbie to last either, but since it's more of a casual thing it might have more of a casual end.

Do you remember when the promo dropped and there was Concern about That Look on Ian's face after he kisses Mickey, and I tag theorized about it being because Mickey stole his coffee? Turns out there wasn't really A Look in the actual episode, but I sure as hell was right about the coffee, and I want noted somewhere. Maybe there should also be a small diploma? A golden statue seems a little over the top, but I mean, if you insist...

I appreciate that Ian is very adament about it being their money but when Mickey thinks it's their breakfast it's suddenly every man for himself. Do you share or not, Ian? Hmm? (Let the record show that I'm joking, please. Ian is damned right to take his toast back, and I say this as a “person most likely to steal their partner's toast right out of their hand”. I also love that Mickey completely gives up on breakfast when he can't have Ian's toast and just grabs a beer instead.) The kitchen scene is glorious and I just really like their dynamic here; the casual kiss, “I only make breakfast for husbands who have jobs”, how relaxed it is even when Ian's a bit annoyed, Mickey being so... Mickey. I do wonder what went through his head when Ian started talking about their wedding present money, though – he seems worried for a moment, but then shrugs it off, and that could be either bravado or just actual lack of concern. I tend mostly towards the latter, since Mickey quite genuinely figures this isn't a big deal (even though he still recognizes that Ian will probably think it one). Please note that he immediately offers to get money when Ian mentions that they need more of it coming in. Not his fault Ian vetoes his methods, right? (Also love that Ian's objection is due to him not wanting to be separated from Mickey, rather than any moral qualms about robbing stores.)

Okay, the gag ball. Would they really keep it like that if they were actually using it? Maybe either of them just tossed it there after taking it off, I suppose... Yeah, I don't know. Not what I'd imagined them being into, but that might be my own extreme lack of enthusiasm for gag balls and harnesses talking. Either they're into it and if so, you do you, boys, or it was a gift and they're keeping it around and semi-prominently on display for shits and giggles. (But if it was a gift, they did try it at least once, right?)

Mickey in the bath remains stupidly and surprisingly gorgerous. Incidentally, I really don't think his question about the meds is any indication of him not thinking them important, but there's little wonder that Ian bristles at the mention of them. Maybe not be an ass just to prove a point, eh, Mick?

I've already talked about how hard Ian is trying here but let's just take another moment to congratulate our boy on his persistent attempts at mature communication. Though he might have given some actual consideration to Mickey not wanting to save the money if he's really serious about them making decisions together... But he gets there! I think this whole situation – which would royally piss most people, including me, off – is actually particularly difficult for Ian, because he might well see Mickey's behavior as uncomfortably reminiscent of Frank and Monica's destructive habits and yeah, that would fuck him up. And still! He forces himself to calm down! He takes Mickey's hand! He refuses to let himself be distracted by Mickey looking SO INSANELY PRETTY I CANNOT EVEN UNDERSTAND IT! Ian, I salute you!

[starwars_eu_nerd_mode]KORRIBAN! YES! HA! TAKE THAT DISNEY! You take your new so-called “canon” and your “Moraband” and you fuck right off. I salute you, Bitcoin Boy![/starwars_eu_nerd_mode]

Ah, the porch scene... This one I do have a bunch of thoughs on that will probably make it into meta proper one day, so I'll leave it for now. It was the one that took the most thinking about for me to square (still not a lot, it should be noted), but now I'm actually very happy about it. (Full disclosure: none of their scenes feel quite right the first time I see them these days, because I'm just so very on edge about what's to come that I kind of miss the forest for all the trees you know? It's not a Shameless thing – it's always like this when I'm extremely invested in something and have waited for it for some time. Will it fit with how I see the characters? Will it be cringey? Will Mickey suddenly profess a love for hideous Hawaii shirts? Also, what are they saying because English is hard... But then I watch them a couple of times and they sink in and I start to get giddy over them. I guess watching actual canon unfold always requires a little bit of re-calibration if you've been busy fanoning while waiting for it to arrive, and while I love that sort of interpretative work, there’s also the fear that the show will veer off into a direction I cannot easily follow.)

Mickey's insistence that he spelled monogamy wrong does genuinely amuse me. Not to mention the whole “No more parking tickets for me!” - “You don't have a car, dumbass.” Also, Mickey being friendly with Carl kills me, in a good way. Family FTW!

Frank's storyline fails to stir even the vaguest hint of interest in me, as per usual. For all his talk of family in this episode, the lack of interaction with any of his kids is striking. If he's to have any value at all this season I'll need him to get involved in the rest of the Gallagher's storylines (which seems like it might be happening at least for a bit later on, so I'm vaguely hopeful?). I find but faint intrigue in Carl's and Debbie's stuff, but it doesn’t annoy me either so I'll call it a win. Kev and V are (almost) always a delight, but do anyone else feel like their kids are only props, even to them? I don't know... I just don't think there's a connection or sense of realness to their relationship, you know? Maybe it's just me... Anyway, here's to hoping V turning pageant mom changes all that! Oh, and I'll need Liam to have some more screentime and stuff to do.

The Tommy and Kermit thing was weird. Eh. Whatever.

Sandy is so gorgerous. I can't. The Milkoviches really be bringing it this episode.

This is only the second season I've watched episode by episode as it airs (other one was S6) and it's a curiuos experience. I think that by and large, and particularly in later seasons, Shameless works better when you binge it, but I love the delightful anticipation of waiting for a new episode and the feverent discussion that follows. Sometimes I also despair over the ferverent discussion that follows, but... you know. It is what it is. Admittedly, any attempts at meta this early in the season is a precarious venture at best, since we don't have the whole story, and it might be wiser to abstain but it's just so much fun, so I'm not very likely to stop.

All in all, I love the Gallavich stuff, am intrigued by Lip & Tami and Kev & V's lives, okay with whatever Debbie and Carl's got going on, hot for Sandy, bored by Frank, and missing Liam. It sets up a lot of promising things, but as an episode all unto itself it felt a bit empty – probably because there were no real plots and the storylines didn't intersect as much as I would have liked them to. Shameless is best when it's about family, which both the show and Frank seems to recognize, but there's little narrative follow-through on that realization in this episode; everyone is pretty much doing their own thing. Adored the Lip and Ian convo, and that house party scene was wonderful, but so short. Think we'll get more of all of them together going forward, though, and more actual plots too, so I'm very excited about it all. Can't wait for Sunday!

[saltydean]

Another ficlet! Was inspired to write more thanks to @definenormalifyoucan . Also on my AO3. Enjoy!

Title: Can’t Quit You

Description: Dean and Cas watch Brokeback Mountain because of course they do. The film brings out certain feelings in the pair, and they share an intimate moment.

“Alright Cas, this time I want you to pick the movie.” Dean said, raising his eyebrows and looking at Cas with a playful excitement on his face. “I think you’ve earned that much at least.”

It was early evening, and team free will 2.0 had taken a well deserved day off. Dean and Cas were lounging in the library, while Sam was paging through a novel he’d started a few days prior. Jack was nowhere to be seen; he’d spent all day watching TV in his room.

Cas was leaning back in his chair, looking at Dean with a familiar fondness. “Are you certain? I really don’t mind watching whatever you pick Dean.” Cas said. “I’ve always enjoyed your selection of movies.”

“No, no, this time you pick.” He affirmed. “You pick the flick and I’ll go on a beer run.” He got to his feet and patted his back pocket, confirming his wallet was present.

Sam didn’t look up. He was consumed by whatever it was he was reading, happy to be in his own world. It was because of this, or perhaps it was intentional, that he did not ask to be invited.

“Be back in a few” Dean said - walking past Cas, patting him on the shoulder and letting his hand trail across the angel’s back as he walked towards the stairs.

Nobody noticed the angel close his eyes and breathe in slowly, as he was caressed in this brief moment.

When Dean was gone, Cas stood and glanced over at Sam. “I’ll be in the Dean-Cave.”

Sam raised his eyes from the book that was clasped in his hands “Yeah, sure Cas. I’ll be here.” He flashed Cas a quick smile and returned his attention to the book.

Cas made his way to the Dean-Cave, and over to the laptop sitting next to the big flatscreen. He knew he wanted to put on a western, since they were Dean’s favourites. He browsed the downloaded movie titles, smiling to himself as he read ‘tombstone’. That was the last western they had watched together. He really got a kick out of witnessing Deans fanaticism of cowboys and gunslingers. He continued down the list. Silverado.. already watched. Magnificent 7..already watched. The next title was unfamiliar to him, but after reading the synopsis, he knew he’d found exactly the kind of thing he needed.

Not much longer after Cas had selected the movie and settled in, he heard the clink of beer bottles coming down the hall.

“Alright, got the beer, ordered the pizza..you pick a movie?” Dean said, his voice getting louder as he walked into the room. He placed the beer down on the coffee table and took off his jacket.

“Yes, I did”. Cas replied, taking off his trench coat and draping it over the back of his chair. “I’m continuing our western theme.”

Deans face lip up. “Atta boy Cas” Dean said with a grin. He popped the cap off his beer using the tables edge, took a long draft and abruptly stopped.

“Wait” He said seriously, with a hint of urgency in his voice, nearly spilling beer from his mouth.

Cas looked at him, visibly concerned. He tensed and moved to get up.

“What Dean? Are you-”

“Wait right here.” He interrupted, gesturing the angel to sit down. “You forgot something.” Dean stepped out of the room. Less than a minute later he returned, now donning a sleek Stetson and holding a cheap, more tacky cowboy hat in one hand.

He grinned sheepishly as he walked over to Cas and placed it on his head.

“Dean..” Cas said, exasperated. He adjusted the hat on his head.

“Thems the rules Cas, you know the drill.” He said and nodded to Cas with a goofy grin.

Knowing his queue, Cas stood and walked over to the laptop. He plugged in the HDMI like Sam had showed him, and with the barest of hesitations, clicked play.

Movie night was almost a ritual. The pair would drink beer, eat pizza, and get comfortable. It was a way to escape the hunter life for a few hours, and even if consciously unknown to them, it was an opportunity to bond and enjoy one another’s company. They always did this together, with a noticeable absence of Sam or Jack.

Cas retuned to his seat, and glanced over at Dean, waiting to see his reaction once he realized what movie he’d selected.

Dean, seeing the opening credits flushed slightly. “Y’know Cas when you said western this isn’t exactly what I thought you meant.” He said with a nervous chuckle.

Cas blanched. “I-I can change it..I didn’t-“

“No, no you picked it. And hey it is a western of sorts. Nothing wrong with .. you know” he awkwardly gestured to the TV with his beer in hand as the title Brokeback Mountain displayed on the screen.

Understanding that Dean was referring to the two cowboys, Cas nodded but didn’t turn his attention from Dean. He took in the lines of his face, the shape of his mouth, and his soul - oh the brightness and fullness of it. He noticed the hunter seemed nervous. Not uncomfortable exactly, more flustered. There was a redness in his cheeks, and Cas could feel an aura of longing emanating from him.

Dean shifted in his seat, thinking of whether or not Cas knew what the movie was about. Of all the choices, why this one? He stole a glance at the angel from the corner of his eye. Cas was watching him. His heart beat quickened and he felt the flush on his face deepen. What on earth was happening to him. It was only then that he noticed their two chairs were much closer together than last time they were here. Had Cas moved them? No, it must be his imagination.

Some time later, there was a knock on the door and it swung open. Sam stood in the door frame holding a flat box. “Pizza’s here guys.”

Dean and Cas looked up at Sam, both with embarrassed expressions on their faces, though Sam couldn’t figure out why. They appeared as though they’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t.

“Ah y-yeah thanks Sammy” Dean stammered.

Sam put the pizza down on the coffee table and glanced over at the TV.

 Oh..

Don't try to fool me no more Ennis! I know what that means! Jack Twist... Jack Nasty!! You didn't go up there to fish, you and him...

 Realization on his face, Sam asked incredulously “Are you guys watching Brokeback Mountain?”

Dean gave a shrug and an awkward, rather sheepish scoff.

“It was my choice.” Cas said, not bothering to explain anything further.

“Right..” Sam chuckled with raised eyebrows. “Don’t have too much fun, you two”. Before Dean could retort Sam had left, closing the door behind him a little harder than necessary.

Dean cleared his throat, directing his attention back at the cowboys on screen. “Typical Sammy” he said shaking his head. “Ruining the best part”. They dug in to the pizza.

The rest of the movie left Dean feeling a mix of emotions. He was trying to bury the thought of him and Cas in the cowboy’s places. Why did that keep flashing through his mind? Ridiculous. He fought harder to ignore the throbbing in his pants; and the mix of embarrassment, disbelief, and thirst he had. Though he had plenty of beer left..

The voice of cowboy Jack rang from the TV, interrupting his thoughts.

 I wish I knew how to quit you

 Eventually, the end credits started rolling. Dean’s eyes were glossy and he blinked away whatever might have been forming in them. He’d forgotten what a sad ending this move had.

“Hah, well there you have it Cas” he said gruffly, hiding the emotion he felt. “Good ol’..Brokeback Mountain”. Cas noticed Dean had said this with more bravado than warranted. 

Dean eyed the angel where he sat, from the top of his head down to his feet, and back up again. Without realizing, he was biting his lip. He swallowed hard.

This nuance didn’t go unnoticed, however, and Cas tilted his head at the hunter. He got up from his seat taking off his cowboy hat as he rose, and tossed it rather aggressively on the cushion behind him. He stalked over to where Dean sat, moving with purpose. Dean could see the outline of his arms through the dress shirt. He looked so different without the trench coat on. Though, he wasn’t complaining.

Cas leaned over him, hands on the chairs armrests. His face was inches from Dean’s; his gaze piercing as though seeing right through him.

Feeling the heat from Cas’s body and breath on this nose, he flushed yet again.

“Cas what are you doing?” Dean choked, turning his face away from Cas, eyes darting in several directions nervously, trying to look anywhere but the face before him.

Cas removed Dean’s hat with one hand, and put his thumb and forefinger on Deans chin, to bring his face back to him. “I think we should..go fishing” he breathed, not breaking eye contact.

The stare continued as the hunter’s face transformed from confusion to realization. Dean gave the barest of nods, and his lips parted in a shaky exhale.

Cas closed the small gap between them, lightly brushing his lips across Dean’s. They were surprisingly soft. His forehead pressed against the hunter’s as he breathed him in.

Dean’s knees were weak and his heart was racing. He couldn’t take the tension anymore and without thinking, grabbed the angels tie and pulled his lips onto his own. They connected with a fierce and desperate desire. Cas moved his hand onto Dean’s neck, crushing their lips together harder. With his free hand he grabbed the front of Dean’s shirt and effortlessly lifted him from his chair, to a standing position.

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas, moving in closer. He could feel his hips press against the angel. His hands gripped the back of Cas’s shirt in bunches, trying to hold on to this moment. To his angel.

They barely breathed. Both could feel the other’s pants shifting, becoming tighter.

“Cas..” Dean breathed.

“Dean, I..” he began, breaking their kiss apart.

“My room” Dean said hoarsely. “Now.”

A small smile traced on Cas’s lips. “I don't care if you're moving slow or fast, as long as it's in my direction”.

[seasonofthegeek]

Drift Away, Chapter 1

It is a known fact that I am vampire trash so I decided to play in the My Hero Academia universe since I’ve already got some Miraculous vampire trash fanfics, haha. 

___

“You’re quite beautiful, you know.”

Eijiro Kirishima blinked wearily, hoping the voice in his head would fade away like everything else around him. His eyes were so dry that his lids may as well be made out of sandpaper for how painful the action was. Worse, the little bit of energy it took seemed to make the voice louder.

“The color red suits you. Let’s make your hair match those pretty eyes, shall we?”

A low keening sound filled the dark room and it took him a moment to realize he was the one making it.

“You’re boring me, Eijiro. It’s no fun if you don’t kill them. Rip his throat out or I’m afraid I’ll have to punish you.”

Everything hurt but his fangs ached the worst. He was almost glad he couldn’t leave the small cottage. There would be no controlling his appetite out in the world now. Small mercies for a starved vampire who didn’t enjoy killing. Maybe he should consider himself lucky.

“I’m going out. You’re to stay here until I return.”

With a thrumming ache that travelled up his spine, he remembered the fake smile she gave him as she spoke, the cold eyes that showed her words for the lie they were.

“You won’t leave the cottage. You won’t feed. You won’t use your power. You won’t disobey me.”

And then she was gone, her sire command settling him in place, trapping him at the tiny dining room table in the small cabin in the middle of a secluded forest until her return.

He tried to swallow, and fire scorched his throat. Why was he awake? He’d drifted in and out of consciousness for years, but his mind was so fuzzy that he knew this last time had probably been longer than ever before.

A small thought filled him with hope and dread. Was she back? Had his sire finally returned to free him from this prison?

His mind provided the memory of a rarely seen furious face, fangs glistening and eyes hard. His sire’s real face when she let her loving façade slip.

“You belong to me, Eijiro Kirishima. You will never see them again. I’ll kill them if you ever go back. I may kill them anyway just so you’ll stop thinking about them. You’re mine. Mine. Tell me you understand. Tell me you love me. Now! Do it now!”

The sensation of crying without tears was odd but not unfamiliar. He took in a shaky breath and could hear and feel the air rattling around in his sunken chest. He’d been dead for centuries and it was a habit he’d never been able to let go of. His sire had detested it which could’ve caused his involuntary need to keep breathing even though it wasn’t necessary to his survival any longer. He’d always had a slight rebellious streak. That’s how he got into this mess in the first place.

How was he still even here? How had he not withered away to nothing after all this time? He was barely a husk of what he once was, but yet…

But yet he still existed.

Kirishima was so tired. So very tired. Everything hurt and he could sense the sun beginning to peek over the horizon. He didn’t waste the energy to look up at the loose board in the ceiling that had given way after a bad storm years ago and let a thin sliver of sunlight through when the fiery ball was high in the sky. He attempted to move his fingers, but the charred digits stayed in place on the table, once again waiting for the sun to burn them. It was the same every day.

He wanted to go to sleep again. He needed to clear his mind. He needed to think of nothing, of no one…

Especially not her. ___

“You look smug for someone who’s about to get his head and heart removed,” a guard scoffed, yanking on the chain attached to Katsuki Bakugo’s bound hands.

The other vampire smirked in reply. “And you look like little more than a snack to someone who just finished eating his sire and is still standing.” He flashed a grotesque grin, fangs on display and saliva dripping, and was pleased to see a flicker of fear in the guard’s expression before he roughly pulled him forward to keep moving down the hall.

Bakugo let his grin fall and glared down at his restraints as he was shuffled along by a caravan of guards. His hands were locked into metal coverings and while he could use his power of explosive fire to melt them, he wasn’t sure his skin would stay intact with that much heat trapped against it. His bravado was mostly show at this point because he was relatively certain he was taking his final steps as he was forced closer to the council room.

He should’ve run when he had the chance.

But no, he’d stayed around to check for survivors of his sire’s line. He hadn’t meant to kill them all when he’d killed her. He’d only wanted to rid himself and the world of her, but…

But that wasn’t how it worked.

Truth be told, he wasn’t even sure how he was still around. It wasn’t just rumor that killing the head of a line would result in the death of every vampire they’d sired; it was proven fact. He wasn’t the first fledgling to rise up and murder his sire in a fit of rage; he was just the only one who’d survived it.

Survived it only to be killed now by a group of stuffy ancients who only cared about upkeeping laws that should’ve changed centuries before.

His thoughts were interrupted as he was stopped before a pair of large, delicately carved wooden doors. There was no telling how old the doors were, and he could feel how deep underground they’d come. It was suffocating to him, but the elders hadn’t been to the surface in lifetimes.

Some sign was given and then he was being moved forward again as the doors swung inward. The room was empty save for a single chair in the center and a large table with the heads of the vampire council seated behind it on the other side.

Bakugo was chained to the chair without the loss of any of his other restraints and the guards moved to stand behind him. He ground his teeth together. “Bunch of show for a guy you’re just gonna kill. You really so scared of me?”

One of the elders made a sound that landed somewhere between a laugh and a cough and Bakugo caught the edge of his lips upturn into the smallest sign of a smile before one of the others spoke.

“You will be executed for your crime, make no mistake, fledgling.”

Fear rushed through his system, but he tried to keep his expression bored. He’d practiced it for decades now. “Then stop boring me and get it over with, you old bat.”

There was definitely a laugh now and Bakugo looked to the first elder again. “You have to admit he’s fun, Wyrmen. Come on.” He ignored the murmurs of his fellow leaders and focused his attention on the younger vampire set before them. “You have a chance to save your life, if you’re interested. Something tells me you will be. You seem the type to have a zest for life. Wish these old coots felt the same.”

Bakugo saw the glares and flashes of anger from the other elders but none spoke up against the first. “I’m listening,” he said slowly.

“As you know, The Countess, your late sire, was a collector of individuals with peculiar abilities.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Bakugo snorted. “Wanted all the power she could get her grubby hands on.”

“Which is why she turned you, of course.”

He clenched his jaw and didn’t speak.

The elder’s smile grew a bit wider. “Yes, we know, young one. Those hand casings aren’t only for show.”

“Yeah, didn’t figure they were.”

“Your little stunt has been quite the talk around here. You could’ve burnt your sire to a crisp with that spectacular power of yours, but you chose to drain her like a human.”

Bakugo shrugged the best he could in his restraints but found he couldn’t quite meet the old vampire’s eyes anymore.

“Well, to the meat of it then. Quite a long time ago, the Countess came in contact with a human with hardening skin. She thought he would be a good bodyguard, so she changed him. Imagine everyone’s surprise when his hardened skin worked to keep him safe from the sun as well.”

Bakugo knew he was letting his shock show, but he couldn’t help it. There was always talk of some magic that would allow vampires to walk in the sun, but for all he could tell, it was mostly myth. Was he really to believe that his sire had someone who could walk in the sun?

And that he’d probably killed him when he killed her.

“What makes you think he’s even still alive? Every fledgling of hers I found was nothing but ash when I got to them.”

“He was one of her firsts and much older than any of the playthings she kept around here,” the elder answered, amusement clear in his voice. “Much more powerful than you, surely.”

The younger vampire bristled at that but held his tongue.

“Our proposition,” the elder continued, “is that you find the whereabouts of this vampire and bring him to us. Once you’ve done that, you’re free to live out the rest of your existence however you see fit, aligning with our laws, of course.”

“Of course,” Bakugo muttered. “And how the hell am I supposed to find some old guy that may or may not be a pile of ash now?”

“I suppose you’ll find a way if you value your life, which I believe you do.” The elder held his gaze steadily, smile never slipping even as his eyes grew cold. “And you have a time constraint so perhaps that will help your motivation along.”

The look in the ancient’s eyes told Bakugo that he didn’t have a chance in hell of finding the vampire they wanted, but there was also the smallest spark of hope there. He’d worked with less.

“Fine,” he huffed. “It’s a deal.”

___

“So, it’s a suicide mission then?” Denki Kaminari dropped to the couch with a frown. “I don’t know if I’m so much into that, man. I kinda like living and all.”

“Didn’t ask you to come,” Bakugo replied in irritation as he rifled through a stack of papers on his desk. “Why the hell are you here anyway?”

“Wasn’t sure if you were coming back or not so I decided to hang out in case someone needed to claim your stuff.” The younger vampire grinned. “Figured you’d want it to go to family.”

“You’re not my fucking family.”

“Am so.”

“No, you’re not.”

“We’re like cousins. Our sires share the same sire.”

“I hate you.”

Kaminari laughed. “You don’t though. I think you might even kinda like me sometimes.”

Bakugo ignored him when he found what he was looking for and slipped his passport into the bag on his desk.

“You really think you can find this guy alone?”

“Don’t have much of a choice,” he answered gruffly. He needed to start packing his clothes; his flight was leaving soon and if he missed it, he’d have to wait another day to fly out to his first lead and time wasn’t exactly on his side.

“Hey, uh, kidding aside, do you want help?”

Bakugo turned around to see Kaminari standing now and awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. “What?”

“Momo wants us to help you if you’ll take it.”

“Who’s us?”

The younger vampire shrugged. “Anybody you want to come along, I guess. She pleaded with the council before they brought you in, ya know. She tried to get them to allow her to claim you in her line, so you’d be under her protection and all.”

Bakugo returned his attention to his packing at that to hide his face. “Wouldn’t have done that.”

“She wouldn’t have made you; at least I don’t think she would. More like an on paper kinda thing.” Kaminari reached out hesitantly and put his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “She wants to protect you.”

The rest of the words were left unspoken. Bakugo was very familiar with what Momo Yaoyorozu wanted. She was everything his sire hadn’t been, kind and warm and caring. It would’ve been a wonder how she managed to survive so long in such a cruel world, but Bakugo knew she had the same penchant for gathering powerful beings around herself just like his sire had.

And she’d wanted to protect all the poor little fledglings he’d inadvertently killed when he drained his sire.

He wasn’t sure he could trust Momo.

He wasn’t sure he could trust anyone.

“I’ll be fine. Now, get out. I gotta get the rest of my shit together.”

Kaminari sighed loudly and flipped his hand up in a careless wave. “Fine. I tried. Don’t get yourself killed, I guess.”

“Denki.”

The other man turned around; surprise evident on his face. “Thanks for the offer.” Bakugo dropped his gaze as he muttered. “And if I’m not back in a year or so, you can have my stuff.”

“Love you too, man. Be careful.”

Buy me a cherry coke?

[perogipoj]

all this before coffee

Dedicated to my black sheep family, who will always be golden.

 Barbed wire, blank walls and an empty sky. Cocoa Beach.  Brevard County, FL. Jail.  Also known as SHARPS.  Tammy walked into the classroom with an air of bravado coupled with the eyes of a child. I never met a teacher before she said shyly, glancing at her handcuffs on the uncomfortable chair.  Even … I hesitated, even in school, I asked gently. I adjusted my own hips to adjust for the cold hard beneath me.  I mean, a teacher for real.  Her eyes looked down, and I implored with my eyes this time to the corrections officer to remove the handcuffs.  Her shoulder length hair was marred by black roots and mustard colored ends.  There were scars on her arm from cutting.  Her teeth were perfect when she decided to smile. Opening the GRE materials, I joked that I am useless at math but fairly good at grammar.  Tammy looked beautiful.

 Some of us take many things too far.  That has seemed to be my pattern.  Even healthy habits turned into obsessions.  Jogging turned into running which became marathons and a cruel treatment of my body.  Some can run into their seventies without injury as some people live to a hundred while smoking and drinking whiskey to the end.  Mindful eating became anorexia and bulimia.  Going organic made me broke with the kombucha and hemp that flowed through my veins.  Being tidy led me to compulsive house cleaning, often with bleach scouring my hands and my eyes colored in pink tears.  Personal grooming turned to hours and dollars of hair coloring, clothes I could not afford, Botox, and breast augmentation. Wanting affirmation led to dangerous and toxic sexual situations.  

 Jaylen, I was warned, was “special.”  I would normally groan inward, used to so many parents highlighting their children as such, usually to explain poor grades.   The volunteer walked all twelve years of Jaylen, his mannerisms large and chaotic, into the room in which all toys and colors were removed.  I hate reading, he said, standing with his arms crossed in front of him like a knight.  Why? It’s stupid.  Can you read, I asked, opening the second-grade reader I was given. I don’t need to read, I can dance.

 I met The Peruvian on a last minute, pathetic online date.  I was at a job expo to acquire my first teaching job after finishing my master’s degree at a world-famous university.  I almost flunked out.  I could not focus.  I cried over social histories in German, a language I lacked grammatical skill in, dreading the meetings with just my professor and another grad student. Black tea, discussions of Marx I got lost in, his approval nodding at the stout Russian girl I already had difficulty understanding in English, never mind in German.  In college, I was stellar.  On time to each class, writing papers late into the night with a gusto of my fingers and a smile on my face.  The world looked bright. On a sweltering day with an incompressible and unimportant commencement speaker, we burnt in the sun and passed around a flask of vodka under our graduation gowns.  Life is beginning.  I held the parchment color graduation schedule. My name had a star next to it.

 I saw that Tammy was no longer shackled when she entered the gray room.  Since the week I met with her, she had elevated herself to the trusted inmates who could clean, deliver meals, and hand out the dog-eared pages of books on a squeaky cart.  So, you scored extremely high on many levels, Tammy.  Let’s take a look at the reading comprehension packet I assigned on The Scarlet Letter.  She smiled more brightly.  I pressed her for intrigue. Ma’am, she said glowing, my commissary is so lit now I don’t have to eat the garbage they give us.  They try to pass off expired food when I deliver it.  I wanted to call them out on those pistachios.  I don’t have time to answer these packets you give me. But I read the book.  What did you read, according to you?  We clasped hands.  Of course, the minster got off and Hester had to wear the giant A over her pilgrim costume.  I dipped my head. Of course.  She could read Hawthorne.  

 I will be the gladdest thing

           Under the sun!

I will touch a hundred flowers

           And not pick one.

 I will look at cliffs and clouds

           With quiet eyes,

Watch the wind bow down the grass,

           And the grass rise.

 And when the lights begin to show

           Up from the town,

I will mark which much be mine,

           And then start down.

-          Edna St. Vincent Millay  

 Jaylen came running into the room from the play center and basketball court which I assumed was a courtesy to me.  He needed to get the wiggles out.

 Nassau Point in the summer at Aunt Tillie’s, driving the Long Island Expressway until it ended to countless grey and white mottled roads.  Passing vineyards that used to be potato fields, cramming my mouth with the last bit of contraband Doritos which were called a Special Treat to nullify us on the vast expanse from New Jersey to the tiny white house.  Decorated in “Early American” with a front glass porch smelling oddly pleasant of moth balls and sunlight.  The huge lawn rolling into the bay with a dock that appeared and disappeared with the tide.  Kids took showers in the dank basement, carved out of a space teeming of a hoarder. A crusted bottle of prell shampoo and a withered sliver of ivory soap.  I met Man-Boy With Very Hairy Legs for the first and last time.  Stroking my legs up and down, he asked if I had a boyfriend.  I was ten, and smug that I could run through poison ivy and never get a rash.  Do you want to fool around, like do stuff?  He whispered into my ear everything I did not know yet.  That’s what married people do!  With his laughter, I leapt my long legs and ran, up the hill, to the driveway where my father was shucking corn.  I got away. This time.

 I was so excited to see Tammy.  But she was not in attendance.  I left the CO the beat-up copy of Antigone for her. I never saw Tammy again.  “All men make mistakes, but a good man yields when his course is wrong and repairs the evil.  The only evil is pride.” This quote was for my betterment, not for Tammy’s.

 A time of reckoning, and a time of complete growth.  A time of a schedule not placed by us.  A journey into us through the connection of others, who became best friends.  Vitamin fusions, lining up for medication in ribbed short paper cups, and Group.  Totally released from responsibility, my linens and clothes were washed, returned the same afternoon in compact squares surrounded by plastic wrap.  Jokes of communal constipation. So, this is my brain mapped.  Here is what displays depression, here anxiety, this is insomnia, that part shows a lack of memory and concentration.  What is that big blue of the Pacific Ocean?  She looked at me, clicked her keyboard.  PTSD.  

 I want to draw a Parrot! P-A-R-R-O-T and speak like one! Wordless, I handed him the blue and black expo markers for the old white board.  With precision, he drew the bird.  I need more colors, he explained in one breath can I talk like a parrot.  I smiled at him at led him to his desk. Let’s try to pay attention today, and I will get you more colors and you can show me how a parrot talks. I began my lesson, and his eyes drifted into imagination.  I needed to get him more colors.  

 I told The Peruvian I was pregnant.  Now I can never afford to divorce you he muttered, enraged.  Married two months earlier, I realized our honeymoon baby was not welcome.   The protesters were angry, and I felt sick. Him on his laptop, me crying to a social worker.  Do not sedate me, I plead, I need to feel this sin.  Sliding my shoes off in the car, my trunk grinding with mountain rolls of cramps and uncontrollable sobbing coming from a divine place, I declined lunch in West Palm.  I never want to do anything fun.  Changing my pad alone in a car beneath the ceiling of the parking garage in City Place, I then tilted my head and fell asleep again.  My birthday came and went.  You didn’t remember my birthday.  With that evil glint in his eyes, he turned his head and told me that was because he did not love me.

 I purchased a ream of paper and a new box of 42 colors Crayola, legit, sharpener in the box, for Jaylen.  He immediately sat down and drew and drew.  Can we put some words to these if we use the colors you want?  He looked up at me shyly and wrote down five words from the fifth-grade reader.  How did you know that?  Easy, my Grammy teaches me.

 I did not smoke to fit in. I smoked because it felt good out in the parking lot, vying for shade, with the Tech supplying communal cigarettes and a light.  The wave went through me and my lips burned with the dirt and smoky taste.  You look like Strawberry Shortcake trying to smoke a cigarette!  My mother was a sophisticated Virginia Slims smoker, sitting on the brick steps in her tennis skirt, so beautiful, watching my brother play in the backyard waiting for my father to return from work.  I sat next to her in awe, breathing in the sprinkler water and counting its pattern, hum hum-hum-hum, hum hum-hum-hum.  

 I took a cigarette break on my Uber ride home.  I knew I would not smoke much when I got home.   However, I did not consume much except cigarettes and black coffee.  I felt Parisian.  The house got messy, and my thighs grew softer. Investing only in ponds cold cream and drugstore mascara, I laughed deeper and threw myself into work more than ever, with determined concentration, forgetting my posture, hunched over in zeal working sixty hours a week.   Anxiety attacks did not make my head and hands shake while driving. I binged watched Law and Order.  Being unhealthy never felt so healthy.  

 I called the jail to let them know I am available for other inmates if they needed me.  I went the next day to help a young man learn English as a second language. All went well until he stood up screaming asking for a guard then switching to Spanish.  

 Here is your key, you can find your mailbox in the teacher lounge.  Here is the form to join the union, Mr. Pescatelli will most certainly find you about that.  Do you know what a block schedule is?  In the morning you will be teaching Advanced Placement European History to our magnet students.  After lunch, you have sophomore World History in the fourth wing. The afternoon will have different challenges.  If you ever need assistance, security is just down the hall.  Welcome to Ft. Lauderdale High School.  Welcome to my first year of teaching.  

 …

 I met the Sophisticated Scandinavian Man in Boston in the Spring.  A PhD candidate from a social democracy intrigued me.  I was twenty-two and he was twenty-eight.  I felt like a puppy taken in from the cold.  There is a long story for this, maybe later.  The times in which he devoured me, lavished upon me, he loved a short story I wrote, “All this before coffee.”

 Sonya met me in the prison classroom.  In anticipation of a new student, I posted Jaylen’s parrots, travel posters, pictures of presidents listing their failures before they took office.  Hello, she said, reaching her cuffed wrists out to me.  I am Jaylen’s mother.

 All this before coffee.  All this after a DUI.

[kinetic-empathy]

so, I really was intending to work on either the ninja warrior fic or the 50/50 AU after taking my neuro exam today, I really was. but then I discovered that the LAFD has a Fire Cadet program, and the high school AU was born. (Is it really a high school AU if only two of the characters are in high school? Whatever, that’s not the point).

Anyhoops, I’m hoping to get the first chapter of this up on AO3 this weekend, but we’ll see. In the meantime, please enjoy this unedited preview of the as of yet untitled 9-1-1 High School AU.

———-

Hundreds of fires. Multiple natural disasters. Emergencies many people would have never imagined coming through unscathed. Bobby Nash prided himself on his ability to fight through even the most dire of circumstances.

“Okay, Lieutenant Nash, I know you said that I needed to check with you before I did anything, but Deluca left the keys in the truck! He was practically telling me to practice driving it!”

It’s only fitting that this 17 year-old fire cadet was going to be the death of him.

“Evan, you know the rules,” Bobby sighed. “I understand that you want to learn to drive the truck, and I admire your enthusiasm, I really do. But you’ve been told multiple times that you can’t get behind the wheel until you’re 18.”

“But I have my license, I can-”

“Evan, if it was up to me, I would personally be the one giving you lessons driving the ladder. But it’s not my decision. Hell, it’s not even the chief’s decision. I get that you’re angry, but if you want to fight someone about it, you’d have to take it up with the State of California.”

As the kid nodded, Bobby couldn’t help but make the comparison with a puppy who was trying to be good but still ended up peeing on the floor. And that was just the thing with Evan, wasn’t it? He tried so hard to be the best, but he always just ended up digging himself deeper into a hole.

“Now, I like you, kid,” Bobby continued. “I think you have a lot of potential. And I think you are very lucky that I managed to catch you before you left the station. But this is strike one, okay? Two more, and you’re out. You’ve told me before how much you want this, but I need you to show that to me. We have a deal?” He asked, holding out his hand.

With what looked to Bobby like newfound determination, the kid returned the handshake.

“Yes, sir, we have a deal.”

Bobby reached out his other hand to ruffle the younger man’s hair. “Alright kid, now get a move on. Chimney’s gonna be pissed if you show up unprepared to his CPR lesson, and those floors aren’t going to mop themselves.”

“Sir, yes sir!” The kid said, throwing a mock salute in Bobby’s direction before taking off towards the table Bobby had designated as his desk. Laughing, Bobby turned to head in the opposite direction.

“Wait, Lieutenant, one last thing.” 

“Yeah, Evan?” Bobby asked, turning back around to where the kid had stopped.

“Um… I was just gonna say… my friends, they all call me Buck, and uh… I think I like that more than Evan?” Any bravado the boy had been displaying earlier had almost immediately faded, and Bobby couldn’t help but think he almost looked scared to finish his statement. “I mean, you can still call me whatever you think you should call me, I know you’re like, my mentor and everything so you’re the one making the decisions, but uh… I just wanted to let you know that you could call me Buck? You, know, if you wanted to. You don’t have to, though,” he finished, pointedly looking everywhere that wasn’t Bobby’s eyes.

“Thanks for letting me know, Buck.”

With a grin brighter than Bobby can remember seeing in the two weeks he’s had his cadet, Buck nodded back at him before running off to check the next item off his list.

Shaking his head, Bobby turned to go check off the next item on his to-do list. Yeah, that kid is probably going to be the death of him, but who’s not to say that they can’t have a little fun in the meantime?

[foxymuses]

@withechoedvoices​ sent: five times kissed for gavin & 900, under cut for length

the world has an interesting sense of humor. that has to be the explanation for why, in the wake of a failed android uprising, a new android shows up at the dpd. wouldn’t they have learned from the first? the way the rk800 manipulated everyone for his own – and cyberlife’s – benefit? but who are they to deny a military grade model, the only being given to local law across the nation. and of course, pair dangerously unstable android with a dangerously unstable human, that sounds like a good idea. perhaps the precinct will still be in one piece long enough for everyone to regret making that decision.

but here’s the funny thing about fate; sometimes, it takes the worst to bring out the best.

it starts small, hidden behind the aggravation the human displays towards anything he can set eyes or hands on. things break under his touch, people stand clear of the hurricane that never seems to end, stepping a few more steps back when the detective learns of his new partner. the others in the building expect unprecedented storms, look at the android in fear and wonder which of the two will break first, human or machine, and whether it will have been the other to do it. and oh, does the wind and rain come, barreling through the office screaming profanities and snarling at anyone who might breathe in his direction, cradling a hand to his chest after it had met the unmoving force that is the rk900.

a storm that only continued to escalate in a power dynamic seeking balance and finding only resistance, and all they can do is watch and hope that their lives might yet be spared from both android and detective, fearful that the way the android seems immune to the detective’s personality even as he threatens to lodge a bullet between the machine’s grey eyes, and the detective’s stupidly impressive bravado in staring down (well, up) into the eyes of a monster without hesitation will catch them all in the tsunami that must be following. dare anyone who is brave enough to approach the two, make a remark, see which will snap faster, a nose under the human’s fist or a wrist under the machine’s hand, and suddenly it makes sense, even if it doesn’t.

the human is a category five and yet in the eye of the storm now stands an android, the only one who could hope to withstand the damage it would take to get there.

and there’s a bet, of course there is, when, from within the comfort of the middle of the chaos, the android begins to pick at the human. the howling winds keep, have kept, everyone at bay but the detective can’t fight off the machine that has effortlessly dodged debris to stand beside him, can’t turn the storm in on itself, a fact the machine seems to know, to understand, to exploit.

and everyone is stuck watching with careful gazes and whispers over cups of coffee or unimportant case files, wondering if when one of them, human or machine, has enough, will it leave blood on the floor? blue or red, it doesn’t matter – and no longer does it matter if the blood will come from death. will it make them worse or make them bearable? money changes hand, names are drawn up, dates set and game on. a chess board of human versus machine, waiting to see which could reach a checkmate first, and how much carnage it would take.

if only they knew they were gambling chips, and the android they were betting on was counting cards.

900 knows it’s going to happen before the human does. not when, exactly, because as simple as the human is, he’s also remarkably hard to predict, since it’s impossible to know if someone is going to do something if they themselves haven’t figured it out before it happens. still, 900 had been poking and prodding at the detective’s limits, pushing past barriers and stretching the man thin on teasing. he’s impressed, if he can be, that it takes so long for the detective to give in (months, actually), but 900 is persistent and patient when he wants to be, designed to be careful and strategic, even when his mouth brushes dangerously close to the humans, even when wandering fingers play a bit too close to pass off as anything innocent, despite the angelic smiles and mock naivete the audience is witness to. everyone knows better, but everyone still watches with bated breath as days pass by, as the betting pool grows thinner and more chips are dumped before the android. maybe, they think. maybe they’ve imagined it

(1) but they haven’t and all the perfection of dedicated coding pays off when one comment too much, breathed against the man’s ear, has the human’s resolve shattering (and a lip splitting) as he claims a furiously hungry (and frankly, long overdue) kiss from the android, debris swept up into the winds that dance around them. the android who tastes the desire and the need on the man’s tongue, who can almost swallow the fucking finally that the man doesn’t realize he’s thinking, who promptly takes control, pushing the situation past pent up frustration into more than the detective was likely bargaining for, but in the cacophony of his storm cannot resist. no concern for the fact they’re pushing aside case files, random notes, letting things clatter to the floor in the middle of the precinct, where at any moment someone could walk in, could witness the end of the bet in a fully performative violent display

--- and then the human’s phone rings, and continues to echo shrilly through the room as the man seems not to hear it or chooses not to hear it before it silences and starts again. the human lets out a few curses, and for a moment the storm comes grinding to a halt as the taste of something new rests on his tongue mixing in with the tang of his own bloodied lip and the full realization of what he’d done, what he’d wanted to do for weeks now, settles on his shoulders and the phone goes quiet again, the world suddenly too silent as inhuman grey meets human and ---

the phone is cutting through the tension, the storm picking up speed in full force, and 900 is pulling back with a softly smug “you should answer that, detective”, wondering if the human would have let him go as far as he would have without the interruption. wondering if this is just a necessary delay; a taste of possibility.

the moment is over, but the human’s lips are red to match his cheeks, eyes still a bit dazed, clothes in a bigger state disarray than normal, stumbling out of the room like he’s been drinking on the job, and people are watching, breath held and eyes wide, unsure if the breaking of something was standard detective fury or a knife in the tension, and someone with a death wish, poor soul, thinks to stand, to ask, before the captain is yelling across the room about you’re on the job, reed, answer your goddamn phone and sense settles across the human’s features and his usual annoyed façade is back in place with returned insults, excuses that don’t make sense but nobody wants to question, and everybody is too afraid to question the android following behind the man with not a single sign anything had happened save the smallest of grins on his lips.

the next time doesn’t happen for months

in the midst of understanding this new rise in a feeling towards the machine, the detective pretends it hasn’t happened. and 900 waits, returning to his patience, a spark of humanity in letting the human process and attempt to understand (or ignore, as it were) – not necessarily out of care but because 900 knows the human mind is fragile, and to push too hard would break it. there’s more fun in seeing how hard he can push before letting it go – lets the detective seek out human companionship in an effort to drown their encounter, but peppers in teases and taunts about an android’s capabilities, the man’s sudden desire for physical relations after their kiss almost became something. works on breaking down the man’s walls when ---

death doesn’t happen to androids, but it may as well have. intensive damage, requiring intricate repair. 900 is not a connor, not an rk800, barely a proper rk900 – he cannot simply be uploaded into a new body. his parts are precise, injuries requiring specifics, and it takes longer to fix him than it should. he isn’t active for most of it, just a blink of software failure and then he’s on his way back to the dpd, back to a man that sees him sitting in his usual spot and freezes, genuine surprise on his face – and relief. an embrace that welcomes a breath of change into the partnership, stifled only by the detective’s continued relationship with another human. 900 is awake again, but sinking now beneath a strange emptiness at the exclusion.

his decision to request a transfer on the basis of a compromised working relationship settles in like an ending, only realized when the detective’s date comments on how he’s acting like 900’s decision was a break up. and there’s the detective’s irrationality, driving with the lieutenant that kept him alive when 900 wasn’t across the city in the middle of the night, breaking laws with no hesitation as he steals an android away from the processing center that has claimed him, realizing only when the two of them walk through the door that it’s not only 900 that has placed a claim on the human, but that perhaps the detective has placed his own on the android.

(2) the android who, until stepping through his human’s door, had been silent, now turns to the man with a smile holding promise, holding what could be warmth, holding the human’s cheek in a cool hand and murmurs, “i’m going to kiss you now,” with enough of a breath for the detective to reject it --- but he doesn’t. there’s hunger still, as there may always be, but a silent recognition, an acceptance that follows fingers across skin, clothes down a hall, crossing the line they’d almost crossed before in the safety of uninterruption. a gentle desperation, moments and words having built up a friction that creates static, that leaves marks as proof, and settles into a natural flow when light breaks through stained windows and fills the human’s home with the smell of coffee and domesticity, a soreness in his muscles that had ached for understanding for so long and now relaxes under the periwinkle gaze of his partner.

it becomes commonality, hidden in not so disguised places, in carefully obvious words. stolen kisses in stolen time in places far too open, android pressing the human against walls across the precinct, the detective daring to take initiative when the android will not. rumors fly and nobody knows for sure but it has to be a thing, the way they stand too close, the way the detective turns red at words whispered in his ear but doesn’t have the same weight to his anger and annoyance, his tone carrying frustration with a hint of adoration, matched to the android’s amused gaze and calm tone. they make sense, even in their chaos, the mess that tends to follow behind them wherever they go.

and there’s a mess – mess after mess after … but cyberlife wasn’t fucking around when they built 900, and persistence has been a key factor in his design from the start. trouble finds the two, the human and his android, the android and his human, threatens to pull them apart because it shouldn’t work. same-natured magnets are meant to repel, disaster can only breed disaster, but yet they triumph every time, meeting life with terrible insults and spit curses, wresting control away from those that want it with steely gazes and ruthless determination.

(3) it isn’t spoken until it is, an unconsidered thought give a voice after a dinner with his human’s family. protective nature out in full force, a couple comments too many and the android is causing a ‘domestic situation’, a silent, deadly reaction that nearly leaves the detective’s brother one arm less, and the significance is not lost to 900 but he has no family and therefore no basis for comparison when his detective is pulling him in for a kiss before they can even reach the car, or rather dragging him into the unadulterated glee at seeing his android, no, his partner in such defense of him that in an excited breath the words slip out and everything comes to a screeching halt.

except it doesn’t, because maybe the android doesn’t say it back, not in the way a human would, but it’s there in the way his lips form a fond smile, the way hands that had been minutes before threatening to tear off a limb now brush tender knuckles against flushed cheeks, and androids don’t have feelings, 900 will tell you that with full conviction, words spoken like they’re law, but when lips press in again to silence doubts, there’s an understanding that laws are made to be broken.

being physical is who they are, in rushed moments cast in shadows, in work meetings with brushed knees, in using proximity to explain attachment, to explain emotion. it’s in the way 900 keeps his body one step in front of the detective at any point, in how the android’s violence is never more impossibly present than when the human is in danger. a machine given a purpose, an android given a partner – an equation that will always equal protection no matter the variables, even as the hands of a coded killer turn from death to life, bones cracking becomes determined movements to save the detective’s life. power becomes precision become persistence becomes blatantly ignoring the warning lights flashing in his vision as his human bleeds out before him because 900 was not made to fail, and he won’t.

being physical is who they are, thrown against walls and doors and desks, leaving bite marks and bruises that tell the tale of who they are and what they do even amidst consistent denial, continued deflection. thrown objects or thrown words, threats and promises – a human has limits, 900 knows this, and he knows it better now, sitting in the darkness listening to unnecessary machines tell him the status of his human, knowing before their archaic designs do when the detective is waking up and 900 has never felt this before, relief at knowing something has happened despite his calculations telling him they knew already, because they didn’t at first. persistence. in the darkness until the human’s eyes open to light and 900 is there with words of ease, words of explanation, words that chase away the shadows that linger. words that promise it will never happen again.

(4) being physical is who they are, but their physicality isn’t built on violence and destruction. it’s built on the small kiss that 900 presses to his human’s forehead, the apology, the fear, the relief setting a home on top the foundation they have been slowly building around them. a home neither knew they needed until the detective wakes up in a new bed tucked against the android’s chest and doesn’t immediately pull back with a halfhearted excuse and instead closes his eyes and goes back to sleep.

the two may have caught up to themselves but the world has not – their existence is defiance in the face of what they both once stood against. enemies line the streets from either side, angry and bitter, demanding misplaced justice from those that seem happy in times of trial. god forbid they find themselves facing the threat of complacency, but their job comes with trials, and their species each comes with their own rebels. fury that the very one created to keep androids programmed like perfect little machines at the whim of humanity is now recklessly attached to one that had claimed to hate the very being that he now needs. rage that this connection gives the android designed to keep the revolution a faint wish on an ra9 star leverage in a world where he should be torn apart for his actions. hatred that he can walk free among the humans when he does not even consider himself alive, when he is fighting neither the revolution or the people that stop it. they want revenge, they want answers --- they want to know what peculiarities are in his coding, tear him apart so they can understand why he gets to be who he is without consequence, no they want to tear him apart to make a point but cyberlife has learned and cyberlife is prepared and military androids don’t traipse through enemy lines without contingencies, a ticking time bomb in his storage, in his files, a knowledge that his human will come for him but the barest trace of concern it won’t happen in time...

mess after mess after mess, and they persist, but this one threatens it all. the human gets to play hero this time, is allowed to be the one rushing to save his partner’s life for once except --- he fails, of course he fails, how could a human match against a group of furious deviants? against the law that binds him in occupation and in existence? if he couldn’t prevent 900 from being stolen away in the first place, what good is he against the ones that did it? a dangerous desire encased in a reckless fury of a detective mounts a carelessly designed rescue that becomes tinged with concern at the state of the android after those that took him are cut down but hope because 900 is blinking, he’s alive, he might need repairs and the detective came prepared with blue blood, had braced for the worst but 900 is there and he’s in one piece and maybe, maybe the detective hasn’t gotten this wrong and then “don’t fucking scare me like that, nines” is met with an empty gaze and suddenly it doesn’t matter if the human found the android alive or not, because the words he’s hit with feel an awful lot like grief.

who are you?

and the weeks when 900 was ‘dead’ were torture in the face of a relationship that hadn’t even started, but now 900′s right there, he’s alive, they’re both alive, they’re both something now, or they should be, they’re supposed to be, and being physical is who they are except now 900 isn’t, and where the detective once wished for distance he now craves the personal invasion and a day full of frustrated looks becomes weeks of hope slowly dying becomes months of seemingly random encounters while the detective grapples with the loss of someone who isn’t gone and the android tries to understand the desire for something that isn’t there.

and it would be fitting to describe the moment of recollection, the straw on the camel’s back that has the detective turning in his badge because he can’t look into the eyes of the person he loves and see nothing staring back any more, the moment that has the truth hammering through the memory wipe in 900’s mind and shattering his coding on the ground the way the human’s resolve did months (no, years) ago and it’s ridiculous how human he sounds, the panic, the desperation, the recognition in his voice when he calls to the detective, and the human turns with a snarl on to be halted by those goddamn eyes seeing him again for the first time in months –

(5) but that’s not the kiss that needs attention, because it’s the one that takes place several hours later in the courthouse on a spontaneous decision that defies logic, that breaks the law through coercing and manipulation of a federal employee before it breaks the law in granting a license to a couple – yes, a couple – that shouldn’t even exist, brief because of the eyes watching (confused, scared, awed at their sudden demand of urgency to attend a matter as a witness, at the danger in the android’s tone when the judge tries to refuse, at the softness in realization of how something can defy all expectations), but official.

the kiss that says ‘we are partners’ without a trace of sarcasm, that is hungry not in heat but in love, in wanting to be known and finally feeling found, in continuing to prove that nobody understands why things happen but that there must be a plan because how else would someone explain the impossibility of continuing to come back together each time they are pushed apart if not for divine intervention? (spite, they’d tell anyone. spite and an unhealthy amount of sex).

it’s the kiss the finalizes all the pain as having been worth it, and it’s the kisses that follow at the jeweler’s an hour later, at the lieutenant’s house surrounded by family that evening, in the car before they make it home, before they can get through the door, stumbling with 900’s guidance into walls down the hall of their house to begin their lives the way they deserve.

the world may have a sense of humor, but the human and his android, the android and his human -- they get the last laugh.

[imababblekat]

Imagine Rung/Megatron Finding Out Their S/O Is A Dragon When Saving Them From The DJD

~

Rung:

"Tarn, please, don't involve them.", Rung pleaded, optics tearing up behind his glasses.

Before him, the leader of DJD stood rigid, grip tight with you in his clenched servo. You bit back a pained groan when Tarn swished you about like a rag doll, blood being throw from your bitten and torn leg thanks to the Pet and his way of retrieving you from your hiding place.

"Last chance, psychiatrist. Megatrons files and we'll be on our way.", Tarn leered down at him.

"Don't Ru-aagh!", you yelped, being cut off by a painful squeeze.

Rung was never going to give Tarn his patients files, it went against every fiber of his being, but seeing the way your face scrunched up in pain made it really hard not to. It wouldn't have even mattered in the end, he knew Tarn and his crew of murderous psychopaths wouldn't let either of you go if he did give him Megatrons files. He'd at least hope though that if he had, they would spare you with a quick-

"AAAGH!!!"

"Rung!!"

The orange bots upper half fell forward in his trapped seat that was actually Kaon, huffing and spitting out bleeding energon from the his captors electric shock. He looked up to see you hitting Tarn's fist with all you had, the latter ignoring your pitiful attempts of escape and to cause harm in favor of capturing Rung's gaze as it peered out behind his falling glasses.

"The files.", the tyrant said once more, his voice low and making Rung feel as though a vice was clenching down on his spark.

Mustering up what energy he had left, the psychiatrist grit his denta, optics glaring harshly now that his glasses had fallen completely off, and in a tone that even surprised him, told Tarn off.

"Go frag yourself, Tarn."

The DJD leaders optics widened behind his obscuring mask. This small Autobot sure didn't seem to have it in him, but there was no missing the cold, venomous spite dripping from not only his words but also his very own glare alone. Tarn would be lying if he said he wasn't just a little impressed. However, it didn't matter, because all that strength and bravado only caused him to let out a small, hearty laugh.

"You amuse me Autobot, but. . ."

Tarn nudged his helm back to Helex who quickly open his built in incinerator.

"I grew bored of you a long time ago.", Tarn finished with a drop in his tone.

Before Rung or even you had registered it, Tarn had thrown you back into Helex chamber, the glass door shutting tight and cutting off your terrified scream. The chamber lit with fire, covering any view of you the Lost Light psychiatrist once had, and he lurched forward only to be sent another painful shock from Kaon to stop him from calling out your name. Tarn turned on heel, walking past his closing in team members like a pack of wolves as he pulled out his communicator.

"Eyebrows made his decision not to give us Megatrons files the moment we strapped him down; we've wasted time. Do what you want with them, I'm going to call Nickel and-"

Tarn didn't get to finish, as he had been quickly interrupted by Helex screaming. He turned around fast to see the round mech fall to his knees, his friends staring at him in just as much confusion as their leader, only to suddenly have Helex throw his chamber open and a large fireball to come shooting out. Before it's path was Kaon and Rung, but the Con had only time to transformer back to bi pedal mode before being slammed and engulfed by raging flames and smoke.

The DJD grouped up before the plume of ash and smokey clouds which glowed bright red and orange, weapons at the ready and all on edge. Tarn narrowed his optics to try and make sense of what was happening within the dense cloud, when he heard another pitiful scream and sickening crunch. When it had all finally dispersed, he knew what those sounds had come from. Before him and his team stood a terrifying beast, one of hardened scales and pure muscle. Thorn like spikes poked out along parts of their armored body, and two giant, sharply pointed horns curled out from the top of their head. Two pairs of powerful wings spread out from their back, making them look bigger and more menacing. Finally, they had razor sharp eyes, slits for pupils that screamed death, smoke flowing out from their nostrils and from their mouth, the later of which was filled to the brim with insanely dangerous looking rows of teeth, some of which were piercing straight through the DJD member Kaon.

Staring straight into his spark, this creature, a dragon, tossed Kaon's half dead body at Tarns pedes. Never once did he take his optics off the creature, but from the wet feeling that began to seep the soil at his feet, Tarn didn't have to look down to see the damage his teammate was in. His guns lit, ready to fire along with those still standing, but before he could give the command, the deathly monster spoke.

"Leave.", their voice rang out like thunder and courses of other voices all together; the energon from Kaon dripping out and splattering the ground.

The two stared at one another, snake like eyes holding that of Decepticon optics, before eventually it was Tarn who lowered his stance. He was a strong, and terrifying enemy to have, and while typically one up for a good fight, he could tell this was not a foe he'd want to face, or at least today with half his team down. Saying nothing he waved to Vos and Tesuarus, the later helping up a very drained and in pain Helex to his pedes. Picking up the limp, but still barely alive Kaon, Tarn looked to the dragon once more, who of which never took their threatening gaze off him, before he finally turned to take leave.

Once the group was finally gone, and the dragon felt they were no longer in danger, they uncurled their large tail to reveal the small Autobot who had not even scratch from their monstrous display. Rung groaned, turning his helm over with flickering optics. Through what he could see of the blur above him, all he could register was the last sight of his human significant other, and their cruel death, and the feeling of immense sorrow envelope his core before he laid his helm down once more.

"(y,n), (y,n). . .", he whimpered out in a choked sob before falling into stasis.

"It's okay Rung. It's going to be okay.", you, the fiery beast who's entire body covered his protectively, whispered into his audials.

Megatron:

"Let them go Tarn.", Megatron ordered in such a calm tone compared to the way he'd give orders when the DJD member knew him at his “best".

Tarn's denta gritted, his grip on you becoming tighter as you gasp for air. The flicker of panic in the ex Warlords optics give his spark a tinge of happiness, but it was not enough. The fact that Megatron, the Megatron, a leader who Tarn had followed and devoted his life to, was not only trying to stop him from squishing any organic, but an organic that happened to be the grey mech's significant other. It made Tarn sick to his core, and he had to hold back from squishing you right then and there.

"What happened Megatron? I remember a time when we'd erratic planets filled with these disgusting things.", Tarn spoke, talking and moving you about like you were nothing more than object; a pest.

"Yes, but that time is behind us now and I've changed.", Megatron replied, taking a step forward only to step back when the other members raised their weapons with a click.

It wasn't so much a concern for his safety, but yours. Megatron could easily take all of them down, but with you at risk, he'd have to be more careful about his actions.

"Oh, trust me, I know.", Tarn glared at the Autobot badge that decorated Megatrons armor.

Megatron glanced down at the badge for a second before bringing his gaze back up to Tarn. When the later had commed the Lost Light, he'd expected they wanted him as well as any other Decepticon turned Autobot on the ship. While just outside the ships bridge, and in the midst of comforting Drift, he'd suddenly heard Rodimus go off in a flurry of curses. Ultra Magnus had been the one to come rushing out the bridges doors to retrieve him, and what Megatron saw on screen made him feel both instant regret and furious anger. He knew he should have joined you when you and a group of your other mechanical friends went to the planet below the Lost Light for some fun. If he had, he wouldn't have been staring at your terrified face on screen in the hold of the DJD, and he wouldn't be here now, by himself as requested and staring at you in the grip of Tarn's servos.

"Tell me this all just some plan of yours.", Tarn began, his voice desperate and hopeful. "Tell me that you're just trying to get close, get the Autobot's guard down so you can attack them at their weakest. Tell me Megatron! Tell me this is all just some elaborate plan of yours!"

Tarn felt his spark drop when the later shook his helm. With furrowed optic ridges Megatron spoke with a low, but sincere voice.

"The war is over, Tarn. No more fighting."

"But what about all those years. All of those years spent following your orders and the cause?"

Megatron frowned, wanting to look down but kept himself from doing so. Another regret of his; taking the lives in not the sense of killing, but wasting it.

"Make new ones. You have time now; you're life is yours now."

Tarn felt his frame shake with bitter rage. Nothing he said or could do would bring Megatron back to who he was, to who the DJD leader thought he rightfully was, that much was clear.

"Enough.", Tarn's voice dropped, Megs optics twitching at the tightness around his spark.

Tossing you to the ground, a horrifying cracking sound resided and Megatron felt his body run cold when yours stopped moving. There wasn't enough time for him to take in all that just happened, because before he knew it he had been knocked back by the heavy punch of Tarn's fist. The DJD members behind him grabbed hold, and threw Megatron to the ground, using all their might to keep him there. The ex warlord was ready to throw them off, but any strength he had was quickly depleted at the sound of Tarn's lowering voice by his helm.

"You were great Megatron. Now look at you, feeling sorrow over an organic.", Tarn spat, taking in the sight of Megatrons fizzing optics and dangerous glow emitting from his spark chamber.

"It's such a shame you won't be here to see me continue the Decepticon cause. First, starting with the eradication of orga-"

"AAAGH!!!"

Tarn quickly looked up and in the direction of everyone else's alerted attention to see Vos suddenly engulfed in a spur of flames. Distracted by the frighting display, Tarn didn't see Megatron quickly regain his strength till it was to late and he was quickly punched back in the gut. Hitting the ground with a thud he gave out the order and his team began firing at Megatron. Feeling the sharp pains of being hit, Megatron waited for more once he fell back to the ground, only to suddenly feel nothing. Looking up and around him he had been shielded by a pair of large. . .wings?! A loud roar erupted, easily silencing the sound of gun fire, and just like him, Megatron was sure the other mech's were covering their audials in pain as well. When it stopped and the wings retracted, Megatron was finally able to take in the sight of what the DJD had.

A monstrous beast surrounded him, making him appear the size of a minibot, it's body covered in scales blacker than night, and some parts rigid with thorny spikes that no one would dare to be caught by. Being as close he was, Megatron didn't need to lay a servo on them to know how strong and built their body was; they could easily break a bolder with just their hands if they wanted to. Speaking of which, they had talons that tore into the earth, and on the right hand Megs could see the glowing liquid that was someones energon. Optics following their long body, he took note of the four wings on their back, the things that had shielded him from a shower of bullets and not even looking scratched. His widened gaze soon came to the dragons head, their sharp, slit eyes focused on the startled and some petrified DJD crew, but even though it was not on him, even he had a chill run of up his spinal strut. Finally, the mouth of the horrid beast was left for him to view. Rows upon rows of teeth sharp enough to pierce the hardest metal aligned it, dripping with saliva and energon, and fumming from that horrifying maw were the flickers of reddened flames just waiting to be fired out in a display of mass destruction.

After taking in the horrifying beast, Megatron took a step back but felt something strange. He didn't feel the sense of danger, that sixth sense that was always at the nape of his neck, instead he felt something strangely safe, and even stranger, something familiar coming from this dragon. Expression no loner one of shock or surprise, Megatron turned to face the DJD, his gaze landing on Tarns. Looking away from the piercing glare of the beast, Tarn felt his spark stop when his optics were captured by Megatron. That look; that look of pure terror and death flooded his processor with memories of the past. With a beast so menacing curled behind him, ready for the moment to unleash an unimaginable peril, and an aura that screamed for any foe to run, Tarn could only stare with wide optics at the mech who gave him those feelings. This was the Megatron he knew.

Quickly jumping to his pedes, he ordered Kaon to grab the charred Vos and ran back to the Peaceful Tyranny with his beaten and bleeding teammates. Megatron alone was a fight not easily won, but with the dragon behind him, Tarn got the same spark stopping fear from them as he would from the ex warlord.

Once assured that they were no longer a threat, Megatron continued to stare at the horizon the DJD had retreated over, a beautiful sunset taking over the tense and dark situation he had been in. With the pink and orange hued sky reflecting in his optics, Megatron didn't need to look over to know what the sudden breeze beside him came from.

"Why didn't you tell me?", he murmured, tone low but with a hint of softness.

You stared at the painted sky as well, hand hesitantly reaching out to rest against Meg's metal leg, but the later not once stepping away or making any notion that he didn't want your soft touch.

"You're not the only one with a past."

~xXx~

[forever-more-never-again]

Fun with You (A Harley Quinn Request)

Requested: Anonymous

Word Count: 2706

Pairing: Harley Quinn X Reader

Warnings: Death, blood, murder

Request: Hi! May I ask one Harley Quinn imagine where the reader is part of the suicide squad and Harley always flirts with her? Thanks!

A/N: Tumblr and my computer are acting up so this fic will not be on my masterlist until I figure out what’s wrong. sorry!

Masterlist

“Harls! Look what I found!” You skipped up to the brightly dressed woman holding a bat, a grin on your face.

Harley Quinn turned around, confusion, and then amusement growing on her face. “That’s going to tickle Rick!”

You swung the severed head up and caught it by the hair on the way down. Laughing, you shook the terrified man’s face in front of the Harlequin, “But he was a bad guy! Don’t I get brownie points for that?”

Harley laughed. Deadshot walked up to the pair of you, shaking his head, but a smirk on his face, “Now, come on guys. We’re supposed to be on a mission.”

You pouted, “But-”

Deadshot shook his head, “No ‘buts’ [Y/n]. Did you forget something?” He arched a brow, pointing to your neck.

Frowning, you reached up with your free hand and scratched where the bomb tracker was buried under your skin.

“Fine! Party pooper.” You muttered to Harley, who had to smother her laugh behind a hand when Deadshot raised his brows at the both of you.

~~

You never would have pictured this as your life two years ago. You had been happily killing as many people as you could get away with.

You had been an orphan, raised on the streets of New York. The young gang you had wound up in had no issue taking lives to get money or food.

And you found you liked it. The thrill of the hunt, the look of absolute terror in someones eyes right before you squeezed the life from them or put a knife in their heart. The total control you had over someone’s life. It was like an aphrodisiac, a pill that soothed the anger that was constantly simmering inside you.

Soon you outgrew the gang that raised you on the street. Your bloodthirstiness causing unwanted attention to come onto them. So you left New York.

Bouncing from city to city, killing whenever you felt the urge, and sometimes taking the odd assassin for hire job. It was easy cash.

You soon built a reputation for yourself. The Scarlet Terror. You thought it had a nice ring to it, sorta reminded you of the plague.

No one had seen your face, or if they had, they never lived to tell anyone what you looked like.

Your signature? A heart, drawn with your victim's blood, on their chest.

You were wanted in almost every state, and even some countries across the water.

And then you wound up in Gotham. You had heard all the stories about the Batman, scarecrow, penguin, Joker and his little girl. You were actually hoping to run into one of them to see what made them so popular.

And you got your wish sooner than you thought.

Within a week of arriving in Gotham, you had found a billionaire with too much time on her hands. And so you decided to help her with that.

Sneaking into her mansion one night, you managed to surprise her and tie her up in the grand ballroom.

“This really is something else! Who knew the one percent had their own ballrooms!?” You twirled around under the lit chandelier, the staff standing along the wall, their fear written on their faces...next to the blood spatter of their fallen comrades who had tried to stand up to you.

The woman, Mary something or other, had her mouth taped shut and she was sitting in a chair. The poor dear.

You clicked your tongue at her tears. Wrenching her head up you shook your head at her, “You really should be proud. You’re hosting the one and only Scarlet Terror! You’re going to be on the front page of newspapers all over the city! Isn’t that exciting?” You laughed, the sound unhinged as you removed your hand from her face.

She shook, trembled, the tears coming down faster and the faster from her eyes.

“What the hell?” You wrinkled your nose as you stared down at the liquid spilling down her leg, “Did you just piss yourself!?” You yelled in disgust, backhanding her across the face as you shouted.

The chair tipped backward and she landed with a loud thud on the marble floor.

Snapping your finger at a butler you pointed to the puddle, “Clean that up...maybe with one of her dresses?”

You had returned to your nonchalant, happy go lucky attitude.

Rushing from the room, the butler kept bowing to you. Hoping you would spare him. You curled your lips at his display of brown nosing.

“And now...for the finale!” You reached to your calf and pulled out your trusty blade. Caressing it softly in your hand, you turned to the wall of staff.

Maids were clinging to each other, too scared to even weep at the dead bodies on the floor next to them.

Butlers and chefs were trying to act brave and be the protectors, but you could practically taste the terror coming off them in waves.

“Who wants to come and be my assistant for this act?” You asked the line of people. Everyone frantically shook their heads and took a step backwards.

Your smile turned predatory as you scanned them, landing on an older gentleman who had been sending furtive glances to the old lady of the house the whole night.

“How about you! Mister please come join me on the stage!” You gripped his wrist and put the blade to his neck as you walked over to where the woman was. “Go ahead and help her up.” You instructed.

Removing your blade to let the old man right the chair. Your keen gaze did not miss the way his hand grazed hers and stayed a beat too long.

“I think it would be poetic, almost like Romeo and Juliet, if I let you do the honors.” You gestured for the man to come to you.

He seemed to grow a spine then, standing up straight, he spat at you, “You are nothing but a two-time criminal who gets their rocks off bullying! The batman is most likely on his way now! You should leave before then.”

You couldn’t hold it in. Your laughter came out in a landslide of distorted giggles. Bending over, you held your stomach, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

You waved the hand holding the dagger out from you, “Oh my god! Give me a minute. This is too funny!”

Eventually you settled down. Standing back up, you shook your head at the man’s foolishness. His bravado was gone, he was back to being petrified at the person standing before him.

Spinning him around, you gently folded one of his hands around the handle of your dagger, and then you pushed him forward, making sure to keep yourself tight against him so that he couldn’t turn the blade onto you.

“I want you to see the light leave her eyes as you push that knife deep into her heart. I want you to see the pain you deliver. I want you to feel the complete joy and thrill of knowing that you took a life.”

The poor man shook like a leaf in a storm, his hand desperately trying to drop the knife in his hand, but your fingers were a tight vise keeping them closed on the weapon.

Once close enough, you reached out and ripped the tape off the woman’s mouth.

A broken sob escaped from her chapped lips as she stared at the man before her, “Harold…” A name, whispered.

“Oh so I was right!” You crowed in delight, “A Hidden romance between the help and the dame of the house. This is delicious.”

The sobs of the rest of the staff was like a background symphony to the drama unfolding before you.

“Ma’am...I don’t...I..”

You yawned, “Okay I’m bored.”

And before anyone could say anything, you yanked the man’s hand forward. The woman’s eyes widened and the man looked down to see the knife buried deep in her chest.

Her blood slowly began spilling over your hand that encased his.

“No! No!” His scream was high pitched and sounded like angels singing.

“I…” A gurgle, and blood came between the lady’s teeth. Her eyes slowly glazing over in the sweet release of death.

Flinging the man from you in a twirl, you regained control of your knife. Smiling, you stared right at him as you slowly raised you hand and licked the blood that had landed there.

“You psycho! You’re madder than the Joker!”

That set you off again, laughing like it was the funniest thing you had ever heard.

That laughter stopped when you heard the shattering of glass. It was then that you realized that the butler who had run off to get a dress to clean up the floor had never returned.

You growled, the sound vibrating deep in your chest, “What did that idiot do?” You muttered.

Quickly drawing out your pistol from your waist, you fired off several shots. All headshots. All aimed at the staff along the wall.

They didn’t even have time to scream before they were dead as well.

You kept the man alive, you needed him after all.

Grabbing him, you wrenched his finger backwards and grinned as he yelled in pain.

Using his finger, and guiding his hand against his wishes, you dipped it in the still warm blood of his lover and drew a loving heart over her heart, right around the nasty looking hole in her chest.

“You get to live and tell my story. Isn’t that something?” You whispered right into his ear, his hair tickling your nose as he shook.

Pushing him away, you sprinted to the large glass windows on the other side of the ballroom.

As you jumped to leap out of them, something rammed into your side.

“Oomph!” You felt the breath get knocked from you as you skidded on the marble.

Not giving yourself time to regain it, you leapt back to your feet and scanned to find what stopped your escape.

It was a….Alligator? Crocodile? Man? Thing?

You tilted your head in confusion at the beast before you.

“Stop right there!” A military looking man entered behind the strange beast with a rifle raised and sighted on you.

You stood up and smiled, waving a blood coated hand at him in greeting, “Hi! What’s your name?”

Sickly sweet, the words rolled off your tongue.

The man raised a brow, but he otherwise seemed unfazed at your attitude. Which, you mused, looking back at the growling Crocodile man, seemed fair.

“Hands up!” The man barked.

And then...she entered.

Bouncing in on her toes, a smile on her white face. Blue and Pink makeup flashing under the chandelier, her hair in pigtails.

“Aww Rick. Be nice! Harley Quinn, nice ta meetcha!”

She bent over with a hand outstretched for a shake.

Shaking your head, you smirked at the woman, “They call me the Scarlett Terror.” You shook her hand, noticing how she didn’t flinch at the blood that now stained her hand.

Harley Quinn, you had heard about her. The Joker’s ex girlfriend. The unpredictable psycho. Last you had heard though, she had been in a high security prison somewhere off the grid.

“I’d love to stay and chat, but I really must be going.” You inched your way to the window, keeping an eye on the rifle still pointed your way.

“Sorry Puddin. But I don’t want to be a homemade bomb today so you have to come with us.” Harley Pouted at you as she grabbed your wrist.

“You really think you can stop me?” your voice laced with derision and amusement.

The woman pouted, but you could see a spark of something flickering in her eyes, “If not me, then it might be Croc, or Rick, or the sniper we have aimed at your head right now.”

You flinched at that. A sniper. Damn. You had quick reflexes, but if it was who you thought it was, you would be dead before the smoke had cleared from his muzzle.

~~~

And so you found yourself making a deal with Amanda Waller to stay out of prison for the rest of your life.

You became the newest member of the so called ‘Suicide Squad’ with Harley Quinn, Rick Flag, Croc, and Deadshot.

And now two years later, you had found yourself actually liking the order and stability that came with it. And the fact that you still got to kill people.

“Come on guys! The building is this way.” Rick called out towards the three of you.

Sharing looks of amusement with Harley and Floyd, you skipped ahead to catch up. Dropping the severed head on the ground.

“You think he talks to his girlfriend like that?” You mused aloud.

Harley Quinn danced up next to you, “Why? You thinking about making a move on him? Break my heart, why don’t you.”

You giggled, leaning over, you pressed a soft kiss against her cheek, breathing in the distinct smell of blood and vanilla that radiated from Harley. “You know I would never replace you.”

Harley smiles,wrapping her arms around your neck and jumping onto your back as you walked the silent streets. “My hero.”

You pretended to trip and stumble, causing Harley to let out a shriek of surprise that dissolved into hysterical laughter.

“[Y/n]! Don’t be mad.” She pouted, her face resting on your shoulder.

You laughed as well, “You make me crazy woman.”

“I was under the assumption that both of you were already certifiably insane.” The dry voice came from the man waiting on the corner of the current street.

You and Harley both stuck your tongues out at Rick. Causing him to roll his eyes and turn away back to the mission.

Jumping off your back, Harley Swung around in front of you as your group came to a stop.

Her outfit was one that you had seen on her many times. Her signature shirt and shorts with netting stockings. Her bat strapped to her back.

“You hungry?” She asked, looking at you intently.

You knew she wasn’t talking about food. The both of you had grown close in the two years of working together. Constantly flirting and touching each other, but no labels yet.

Taking one of her hands, you raised it up and in a quick second, using your blade, had cut a thin line on her palm.

Your eyes were glued to the red blood that raised from the wound and stained her white skin with its brilliant color.

She giggled at the pain. Making you smile as well.

“You look so cute when your focused like that.”

Her words soft. Strange.

Tearing your eyes away from the blood, you looked at the woman questioningly.

She sighed, shaking her head, causing her ponytails to bob in the night, “You really are clueless [Y/n].”

And then her lips crashed onto yours.

Shock and then bliss poured through you. Closing your eyes, you let yourself open up to the demands that Harley’s lips made against your own.

And then she broke apart for a second. Keeping ahold of your stare, she raised the hand that you had cut and licked the blood off of it.

You gulped, hard.

Reaching back for you, her lips melded against yours, this time slick with the cherry red blood. The metallic taste faded into the background as you moaned into her mouth. This crazy woman. She would be the death of you eventually if she kept this up.

“Hey! Lovebirds! A little help?” The shout broke the pair of you apart with a jump.

Sharing a giggle, you both turned and looked at what was happening. A fight had broken out while the pair of you had been absorbed with each other.

The assassins that you had been tracking had apparently found you.

Sharing a look with Harley as you tightened your grip on your knife and she pulled her bat from it’s strap, you grinned, “Hell of a first date. But I always have fun with you.”

She laughed, “Try to keep up Terror.”

And you both jumped into the fray.

FOREVER Taglist:

@sxph-t @mialeelavellan @rainydaysrnevergrey  @platonic-plots @sociallyawkwardcircus-freak-hi @ayyidkeither @mcuimxgine @mythixmagic @chas-z @iflew-onabus @thefridgeismybestie @strangersstranger

[mininky]

Tainted Souls (Taehyung)

Summary: Vampires were no longer a myth, the world knew that they were very very real. The world wasn’t ready for it, and they really weren’t ready to find out that all those whacky conspiracy theorists finally got something right. A lot of celebrities were, in fact, undead. Including BTS. Touring constantly, always on the move it was painfully difficult to ensure that they received their meals. Until their manager learned of a business that specialized in vampire fine dining.

Pairing: Vampire!Taehyung x Reader

Warnings: Oral sex (female/male receiving), biting, multiple orgasms, swallowing of bodily fluids, no condoms (don’t do that!)

Word count: 6.3K

Series list: Prologue, Jin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook

   "What book are you reading?" You look behind you on the plane to see Taehyung standing up at an awkward angle so he can peer over your shoulder.    "Dracula." You move your sights back to the book in front of you, trying not to smile at the laughter ringing out above you.    "Dracula, really? So, does that make you my Mina?"    "If I was your Mina then I would have gathered a group of men who would have become so completely infatuated with my kind, sincere, and oh-so-innocent character that they would murder you for me. Well, technically for her fiance, but let's be honest they all did it for Mina." You try to go back to reading but close the book when you realize your eyes have been dancing over the same page for the last few minutes. You put your bookmark in and look up again to see Tae giving you a boxy grin.    "Yeah, well I suppose in a sense you are Mina. You could definitely have a bunch of dudes do your bidding."    "Is that so?"    "Yup." You watch Tae whip his head back around and can barely hear Namjoon saying something about 'sit down' over the hum of the engine. Tae, however, stays up anyways. It can't be comfortable, he's having to stand at an obscure angle/crouch in order to avoid banging his head on the overhead. "But I appreciate that you aren't trying to kill the vampire and you aren't really Mina. Besides, cute and innocent gets boring really fast, doesn't it (y/n)?"    You watch Jin's hand clasp around Taehyung's collar and jerk him back into the seat before you can even respond. So instead you have to settle on pulling up your KKT (and paying the outrageous WIFI fee) so you can have the last word. "Why kill the vampire when it's so much more fun to fuck them?" You wait a few moments, praying that Tae also paid for in-flight WIFI before you hear him sputter and cough behind you. Checkmate.    You and Tae have been playing a game of cat and mouse from the moment you met. It's hard not to be drawn to him. He's charismatic, handsome, sweet, and he has this air of unflappable confidence that comes close but never fully crosses the line into arrogance. And you...well you've found your new favorite past time but you never thought about the implications it would bring about later in time. You and Tae flirt back and forth with each other constantly, but you've never crossed the line. Come close, dipped a toe over, sure...but you refuse to be the first one to break. Oh no, Tae will be the one to break.    He's not like the normal fuck boy type, you'll give him that. In fact, he's not even really a fuck boy, he just has the tendencies. He's got this really sweet, sensitive, kind side to him. He's also very intuitive, the type of person to know exactly what you need or want before you ever say it. But he's also the type that's unapologetically himself and it's naturally an easy attractant for women. He could have any pick of the litter, and he knows it. He walks like he knows it, talks like he knows it, but he never actually comes out and says it. And the thought of conquering him, of being the one that he begs for. The one that gets the cocky side of him to bow down before your feet. Oh yes, you'll break him. Unlike Tae, who flirts shamelessly possibly just for the fun of it, you do it for more perverse and personal reasons.    You're attracted to him. More than you'd care to admit too. You want him, you want all of him. You're not sure where in the game that started happening, but you know it's far earlier on than you care to admit to yourself. But he doesn't need to know that. Not until he's worshiping you, and then you'll bare your heart and soul. But he needs to break first. You want to wash off that cocky grin from his face, you want to see him vulnerable and bare to you. And as much as you'd like to pretend it was just a game of conquering the man who can conquer all it was now much more than that. So you've been pushing harder than ever, trying to get him to cross the finish line. You think he probably understands what you're doing. And it seems to you that he's drawing it out to see if you'll break first instead. You've had to slow back down in retaliation. Well, that and the fact that you had been so caught up in the thrill of the chase that you've had witnesses. Technically just one witness actually, just on a few occasions.    Unfortunately, poor Jungkook has been caught in the crossfires of your little 'chases' a few times now. So now you have to be a little bit more careful. Poor Jungkook. The last time he walked in on the two of you had been the worst. He'd found Taehyung feeding from your thigh when he came over to see if Taehyung wanted to play a video game of some sort with him. As if it wasn't bad enough of a position with your dress hiked up and your expensive black lace and chiffon underwear on full display it of course just had to happen right when he finally started looking you in your eyes after he accidentally saw the racy photo you'd sent Tae a few weeks prior. It wasn't that bad, but you're pretty sure that he's maybe seen boobs in real life a handful of times and that didn't help anything. He's a shy, innocent thing under all that bravado he puts on stage. Jungkook still refuses to talk around you, he just turns into an awkward statue and runs away which has caused his blood type endless entertainment recently. She's been using you just to chase away Jungkook, and it's only made you tread more lightly in your game with Taehyung.    Your thoughts are brought back to the present when you hear your phone buzz. You glance over at Jungkook's blood type on your right and Jin's blood type on your left to see both of them sound asleep before pulling up the text. It wasn't a dick pic per say. It alluded to it, but the angle cut off right after the thatch of well-groomed pubic hair. Interesting, so he doesn't shave completely. Somehow, you kind of anticipated him to be an all or nothing kind of guy. Not that you're complaining. The real question is how to respond?    You take a moment to ponder your options before a text pops up.

[Tae-Tae] Speechless? [you] No, I'm just debating if you shave and trim or just trim.    What a cocky little shit. You'll break him one day, you swear it. [Tae-Tae] Care to find out? [you] Hmm... [Tae-Tae] I'll show you if you ask me. ;) [you] Nah, I think my own imagination is probably better. [Tae-Tae] :( It's not tho [you] Whatever you say, babe. [Tae-Tae] babe? I get nicknames now? What can I call you? How about baby doll? [you] Gross, veto. [Tae-Tae] Princess? [you]...I can work with that one, but it's not my favorite. [Tae-Tae] My queen? [you] Much better. I accept from you my humble servant.

   You try to stifle your laughter as Taehyung suddenly appears down the aisle. He shoots you another boxy grin and leans over for a moment to whisper in your ear.    "See, I told you. You can get guys to do their bidding. All you have to ask and your wish is my command. My queen." You look at him for a moment before staring back straight ahead.    "I'd rather hear you beg." You watch his pupils dilate for a moment when you spare a short glance back his way, his head cocked to the side before he finally moves back over to his seat when a stewardess starts walking by.

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

   A few days later and you're finally back in the comfort of your own home. In a strange way, you aren't actually that happy with it. Being out and exploring and...being with Tae...well it's fun. But meanwhile back at the ranch you just go through tedious monotonous tasks of daily life. Not that it's that bad, it's really nice to be able to catch up on all your favorite shows and finish a book in your favorite spot on the couch. It's just...well it's boring.    You've been going and traveling nonstop for the last couple of months, and sure it could be stressful. Especially trying to get through an airport while not being caught with BTS and the constant reminder of 'no scandals, we hired you to be discrete' from the ever so lovely management. (Honestly, with some of the stunts you've seen the other girls pull you're surprised that there hasn't been a scandal yet. It's not that they aren't discrete, it's more that...well there's zero tolerance for bullshit from some of the other girls when fans get out of hand.) But with all its rules the job is still worth it. You got to explore museums and sites and food all over the world. Your bank account is certainly not a concern any time soon. But more importantly...with Tae. And when you're back at home...well you're just a regular old girl again. When you're with Tae it's like everything is an adventure, his optimistic boyish charm is infectious. When it's back to just you in your apartment though it's like everything is slightly muted.    Your thoughts wander back to Taehyung for a moment. The tour had ended with things getting...slightly awkward between the two of you. You're pretty sure that both of you are getting tired of this little game, but both of you are too stubborn to try for something more. Each conversation with him lately has kept you on edge, both of you seem to be daring the other person to just say it first. You know you're in deep shit, you don't just like him...you love him. And that puts you in an odd spot. This is after all your job. And he is after all famous and under a microscope constantly. And then there's his personality. It's almost like there are two sides to him. The flirty grand charismatic face he shows the world and then the much more serious, sometimes stoic side he'll occasionally give you a glimpse of. But what's real with him? You can't help but wonder if he actually likes you, or if he more just enjoys teasing you. And this dilemma really isn't his fault, it's yours. You started this. You were the one challenging him, instead of just coming forward and being honest. But being honest is scary. Rejection is a serious possibility, and you're not sure if you'll ever be able to recover from it. I mean, sure you will, but...man it won't be easy. And let's say he does reject you, do you have to go back to your old routine at Tainted Souls all over again?    You're in the middle of a deep True Blood binge under the confines of the pillow fort you've made when a knock at the door interrupts your thoughts and has you pausing the show. You have no clue who it could possibly be. Your friends rarely show up unannounced and all of them have day jobs so considering that it's only 1:00 in the afternoon it couldn't possibly be them. And you didn't order any food, you actually forced yourself to cook for once just a little while ago. You peak your head out the pillow fort and squint at the door (not that it's helpful in any way but you're hoping you can somehow will the person away if you do this long enough.) Another round of knocks, louder this time, ring through the apartment before the doorbell is rung no less than five times in under thirty seconds.    You grunt as you crawl out of the fort before marching over to the door. Swinging it open you're ready to give an earful at your intruder before seeing that damn boxy grin.    "Tae?"    "Hiya, my queen. I was just bored and in the area and-"    "How do you know where I live?" Taehyung stops for a moment and you see a mischevious glint in his eye.    "I have my ways. Are you going to invite me in?"    "What is this, some old-timey vamp shit? Yes, please, I invite you in oh undead one." Tae chuckles as he steps in, his shoulders brushing against yours momentarily before he steps aside to take off his shoes. "You aren't off the hook that easy though. How did you find out where I live?"    "It's on your resume, duh." You watch him survey your small apartment before his eyes light. "Is that a pillow fort???" He skips with glee over to the area, a childlike innocence and enthusiasm taking over as he crawls down and shuffles into the area. "What are we watching?"    "We're not watching anything. I was watching..." You stop yourself short. How do you explain to a vampire that you're basically watching a vampire porn show that got a disturbing amount of things about vampires right? I mean, the Dracula thing was already a bit embarrassing enough but hey, it's a classic!    "What, cat got your tongue? Come on, come join me in the fort, my queen!" You glance over to see him patting at the side next to him before finally giving in with a reluctant sigh. You didn't exactly make enough space for two people though, so you're squeezed rather tightly next to his side. "So...were you watching porn?"    "...no..." No that would almost be less embarrassing, unfortunately.    "That...that wasn't the answer I was expecting. Oh...oh my god. You WERE weren't you?" You're struck with horror as he moves to press play. Why god? Why you? Why didn't you destroy all the evidence before opening the door? Why didn't you hide the remote? Why couldn't you have been watching anything else other than-    The sounds of moaning fills the room. Of fucking course, this just had to be the worst possible scene for it to start on. And of course you just haaaad to watch the whole series over from the beginning and this is the part where they find the tape of the girl who died after sleeping with a vampire who chains her up has very rough sex with her and then drains her.    "Holy shit, this is...this is really kinky. It feels like I'm watching some of Hobi-hyung's stash, but worse. Wow. It's always the ones you least expect I guess." His eyes are glued to the screen as it finally cuts back to the police.    "No!!!! No, no no no no no no no!!!" You're smacking Tae repeatedly on his arm, hoping that you're somehow making your illiterate rant get across to him. "No, it's a TV show. It's called True Blood! It's about vampires and okay it's honestly trashy and kind of awful but I mean, they got so much right. A lot of it wrong, but so much right too! Like synthetic blood, and vampires coming out of the coffin! And and and..." You stop at the sound of Taehyung laughing maniacally at your outburst. "Oh fuck off Tae. Even if I was watching porn I'm allowed to do so! Who died and made you my dad? Also, what ARE you even doing here? Don't think I bought that 'I was in the area' bullshit! You're not getting off that easy mister!"    "Mister, really?" Tae sighs before cuddling closer into your side, his face pressing into your shoulder. "I just missed you, if you really must know."    "Oh." What does that admission mean? Does it mean...no he couldn't possibly be throwing in the towel.    "Oh?"    You glance down to see Tae looking up at you through his messy fringe. You hadn't really paid attention when he first came in, but he looks paler, tired. "OH, you're hungry." He rolls his eyes before he cuddles even closer and throws a leg over you. You pray that your heart will stop thundering soon because you know for a fact he can hear it.    "Not really. I still have two more days before I need to eat. I told you, I just missed you. Is that such a crime?"    "You look hungry. Tae, you don't need to lie. If you just came because you need to eat that's fine, I'm sure you've been working harder now that you're back and-"    "I told you that's not why I'm here!" His face snaps up, and you're suddenly reminded by his inhuman speed that he is indeed a creature not to take lightly as he's straddling you. His eyes bore into yours, flickers of annoyance tracing over his features. "Why don't you believe me?"    "What?"    "Why, why do you do all these games? You fuck with me, and you play these games, and god I can't get you out of my fucking head. Your taste, your smell, your laugh fuck it's like they're just running through my mind all god damn day. And then you have the audacity to act surprised? How could I not miss you? Is this all it is to you, just some game? Because I swear to fucking god if it is I'm-"    "It's not just a game. I mean, it kind of started that way but..." You trail off, your eyes refusing to look up at him for longer than a few seconds.    Tae relaxes at your admission, but his gaze never wavers. He's clearly waiting for you to continue, but you're too stubborn. After a minute of the two of you daring the other to speak first, he finally gives a small chuckle before throwing his face into your neck. "God, you just really want to make me say it first, don't you?"    "Yes." Your words come out tiny and small, and you suddenly feel incomprehensibly stupid for just not being honest with him sooner.    "Why?"    "Because you're you. You could get anything, anyone. And...I don't know at first it was just to get someone as great of a catch as you to look at me and I was kind of bored with having just one client. But then...it just morphed into something more. The more time I spent with you the more I wanted you to really like me. Like really really like me, not just want me...you know? But...I guess...I'm also just really afraid of rejection. A game of cat and mouse keeps things easy and light-hearted, feelings don't really have to be involved."    "I fell for you so long ago it's ridiculous. I just figured it was all just fun and games for you so I didn't admit anything. We're both idiots aren't we?"    You find yourself grinning up at his words. "Yeah but...we can be idiots together."    "I like the sound of that, a lot." For a minute silence just fills the room, although it's not uncomfortable. It's more the two of you basking in the realization that there are no more games. Both of you are finally being honest with one another. And then after that warm and fuzzy glow starts to ebb away do you realize the rather compromising position you're in. He's still straddled over your hips, his hair falling down and eye's just barely peeking out, his hands resting on the side of your head and face just a few inches away. You're not sure what to do in this situation. Do you ask him to move? Do you kiss him? Do you touch him? What would be the most proper? Because really all you want is to feel his lips, but you're not sure if that's what he wants.    You're pretty sure he can see each thought playing out based off of the way he cocks his head to the side and lifts an eyebrow. You've never been very good at concealing your inner thoughts. (Note to self, work on your poker face.) So you steel your nerves and finally say in a voice you hope doesn't give away your anxiety, "Tae?" When he hums in response you finally lift your eyes to him. "Tae, can I kiss you?" His smile stirs something in you, a frenzy of joy and something slightly more carnal caused by his fangs shining down at you.    "Of course, my queen." He doesn't however budge. Clearly, he's going to make you work for it, and your stubborn side is starting to roll back in. You weave your hands into his hair (you'd like to note that it's oddly soft for all the chemical damage it's taken and you really should find out what shampoo he uses) to bring his lips down onto yours. The force of the movement causes a rather awkward clash of teeth, but neither of you seems to pay any mind. There's been too much build up, too much tension, to really care about little details like that.    His lips are slightly chapped and he tastes faintly like mint. It's not long before the kiss deepens into something less chaste, tongues roaming and exploring and hunger starts to drive both of you. Your hands untangle from his hair and move to his arms before snaking around his waist to flip him over. There's something so euphoric about seeing him under you, at seeing the shift as his eyes start to shine red and the way his breathing starts to stagger under your touch. And it hits you, really hits you then, that he's yours. Maybe the world gets a lot of him, but right now you get a side of him that they don't. Your lips trail down his neck as your hands slide up his shirt to feel the cool skin underneath. The way his muscles clench under your touch coupled with his soft panting has desire pooling into your underwear.    "You look so pretty like this." You grin as you peel his shirt off before leaving a wet trail of kisses down his torso.    "Pretty, really? Wouldn't handsome be a more apt description?" His hands are wound into your hair, pushing you slightly further down as you get steadily closer to the waistband of his sweats.    "Well, you are plenty handsome. But...I think you look pretty right now. Delectably pretty. Like a perfect meal presented to me." You linger at his pants, hands resting on the button before your attention flickers back to his face. "May I?"    "Please. But I mean, really? If anyone is the meal here it's you."    "The big bad vampire routine is unbecoming of you. Be a good boy though and you might just get a treat." The glare he levels at you has a giggle of elation bubbling up in your throat.    "Really, still with the games?"    "Do you want me to suck your dick or not Tae?" His head whips up as you slide down his pants and boxers, freeing his rapidly hardening cock only a mere few inches from your face. You'd like to note that he does, in fact, shave and groom. Guess the question is finally answered now that you're finally seeing the perfectly shaped triangle of hair in person.    "Fuck, no I do."    "Then just lie back down and be a good boy." He groans as he throws his head back, biting on his lip to stay quiet. You've always wanted to be the one to get under his skin, to make him fall apart, and now that you're finally here it's better than you ever imagined. You take a moment to just enjoy the site of him laying under you, twitching with barely controlled impatience. Your fingers ghost over his dick, lips coming down to pepper small kisses up along his thigh before halting right at his balls. His hips flex and shake the closer you get, precum beading up and falling onto his stomach.    "Jesus, please (Y/N), please just fucking touch me. This is just torture, cruel and unusual punishment. I'll do whatever you want just please, please just touch me."    "Whatever I want?" A cheshire cat grin is on your lips as you look at him. You get that technically you guys already agreed to be together, but hey you've been thinking for a long time about just what you would do when he finally breaks. And right now you're finally about to get what you've always wanted.    "Fuck, yes, just please fucking touch me."    "Hmm, okay, since you begged so nicely." You finally grasp his dick in your hand, tongue snaking along his balls before trailing up and enveloping his velvety head. The tangy precum smears over your lips as you lock eye contact with him, your smile growing wider at the long musical moan that falls out of him. Oh-ho, if Tae is already moaning he might just not be able to handle what you have prepared for him. You give him just a moment to calm down as you keep him resting in your mouth before finally sliding down to the base in one go.    "Oh, holy fuck. Fuck, fuck, oh god. You weren't fucking kidding when you said you were a pro at sucking dick, oh my god." You stay stationed at the base for a moment before working up, setting an easy rhythm for yourself to breath in as you go up and exhale slowly as he reaches past your molars. The dull ache in your jaw is worth it for the sweet sounds he's gracing you with. You can feel your panties clinging onto you, your own need beginning to cause a different dull ache. But that's not important, what's important right now is staying in charge. You aren't about to pass up this opportunity that you've worked so hard to finally get. "(Y/N), if you don't stop I'm going to ah fuck!" Your hands massage his balls gently before his hips buck with force into your throat and his cum is filling your mouth in hot white ropes.    His eyes are locked on yours as you finally pull away from him, giving small licks to clean up anything left behind before opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue.    "All clean, my what a good girl you are." You can't help but preen a bit under the praise. There's something about hearing the words from Tae that make the (honestly almost unbearable) taste worth it. "But it's not fair, I'm almost completely undressed, and you're still in all of your clothes." His words come out whiney as he tries to grab the hem of your shirt, but you're quicker than him. You scooch your way out of the pillow fort, ignoring his whines of protests.    "Come on Tae, you promised that you'd do whatever it is that I ask." You glance behind you to see Taehyung behind you, a deviant smirk plastered to his face as he tugs his pants back up.    "Well, my queen, I'm hoping that your wish is for me to eat you out like a five-course meal."    "No, but nice try. No no, I'd like something far less sexual, sorry to burst your bubble." You wrap your hands around his neck, fingers curling into the soft hair at his nape. "I'd like for you to take me shopping."    "What?"    "Shopping, I want to go shopping with you. More specifically I'd like to go out on a date with you. I think it would be fun to pick out some clothes with you. Oh, but I suppose I should tack on that I'd like to go to the new exhibit at the museum with you too if you have the time this month. It's not a permanent collection so I suppose that might have to take priority if you can manage the time."    "You...you could have me do anything and you choose a date? I thought for sure you'd have me sit there and beg for you or something, or literally kiss your ass, or make me do something really embarrassing. But you...choose a date?" His shoulders are shaking with poorly contained laughter before he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. "Just when I think I've got you all figured out you pull something like this. You're a weird one, you know that?"    "Well at first I thought about making you beg, in fact, that was my original goal. But the plan changed a long time ago. I realized I didn't want to make you beg, I would never want to hear something like that forced out of you. I want to hear that you want me because you want me, not for any other reason. So then I started thinking about what I really wanted, and I realized that even though it's selfish and even though you can't technically go out on dates or be seen in public with me I'd still really like to go out on a date with you. I understand though if it's not really possible." You say the last words quietly as you reflect back on your contract and the firm words from management. Dating and scandals were absolutely not allowed, and while you wanted nothing more to be with Tae you also understood the precarious place dating would put him in.    "Hey, don't worry about it. We can definitely go on a date. I can wear like a fake beard or something."    "What?"    "Ooh, or maybe I'll learn how to do some special effects makeup and turn myself into an old man. With a big beard." Tae is talking animatedly, his hands smoothing down his imaginary beard.    "No fake beard, please."    "Why not, I thought girls like beards."    "Yes well I don't. Especially not fake ones. That's just weird. But I'm sure we'll figure something...less...abstract out." You watch his gaze flicker back down to you, his fingers tracing over your jaw before dipping lower until they finally grip at the soft flesh of your ass.    "Well, I suppose that we can figure it out some other time. I don't have enough time for a date tonight, I still have to be back for practice in a couple of hours. But that does leave me with enough time to continue where we left off. What do you say?" His breath is warm on your neck and the fire that had begun to calm down is roaring back. That familiar ache, the need to finally be one with him begins driving all action again. You try leading him to the bedroom, but his hands pull your hips back flush to him. "Always so impatient. Let me take my time with you."         His tongue trails slowly down your neck, over the prominent vein before he nips down slightly on your collarbone. Each movement is slow, precise, and it already has you wanting more. You're not normally so greedy, you usually enjoy dragging things out more. But Taehyung is masterful at this slow, erotic torture and it's quickly becoming too much for you. Each touch to your skin tingles and burns, his hands lazily roaming and groping has your hips rutting into his. "Tae, don't be a fucking tease."    "Oh please, you've spent enough time torturing me let me have some fun." His eyes lock onto yours before he finally strips your shirt off of you before his mouth latches onto a nipple. His tongue swirls around the bud before he's tugging it in between his teeth with enough force to have you cry out. His mouth twitches into a grin at your moan and suddenly he's off of your breast and picking you up. He doesn't, however, take you down the hall into your bedroom as you initially guessed. No, instead he's leading you into the kitchen and placing you on the counter. He just gives a small chuckle at your cocked eyebrow before explaining. "Listen, this might sound ridiculous to you but I've always wanted to have sex in a kitchen but considering that I live in the dorm or I'm always in hotels I don't exactly get that chance often. Also, I really want to fuck you in a bathtub while we're on the subject. Honestly just about every surface of this apartment, but the kitchen is a good place to start. Don't you think?"    Before you can respond his hands drag your ass to the edge of the counter and his mouth is on your thighs. Each wet kiss, each small nip, closer to your clothed and dripping core has you shaking with want. "Tae, please. Please, come on baby, please." You're not sure if it's the begging, or the use of the pet name, or just his own desires that finally cause him to peel away your panties but you really don't care. You just care that you're finally getting relief.    "God, look at you. You're dripping all over the counter. What a pretty fucking pussy, and it smells so sweet." He licks one long stripe over your folds before clamping down on your throbbing clit. Before you can even react he has two fingers slipping into you, strangled moans bubbling out at the dual sensations. With each loud suck on your clit, his fingers prod deeper inside you, scissoring and stretching in all the right ways. You can feel that familiar coil tighten and lurch at his ministrations. Each time his tongue brushes against you, each time his fingers prod in just the right spot, you can feel yourself start to unravel. You want to tell him how good it feels, how amazing he is, but words get lost in your throaty moans. "You're going to cum already? You gonna cum all over my fingers? Come on (y/n), cum for me." That's all it takes to have you finally fall into your orgasm. Thighs clenching, abdomen tightening, toes curling. Faintly you know you're screaming his name loudly, but you're too far gone in bliss to fully register that it's you who's making those noises.    By the time your opening your eyes back up he's finally pulled away from you. His mouth is still shining with your release and you can't help but groan at the sight of him slowly fisting his leaking cock. His mouth is on yours in an instant, both of you groaning at the taste of both your orgasms. Your hips jut into his, the desire to feel filled by him is starting to drive you into a frenzy. You need to feel him, one orgasm isn't enough. Never really has been for you, but especially not when it's finally with Tae. "Tae, come on, please fuck me."    The way he groans low and sweet has you clenching around nothing and desire trickling out of you once again. You watch, entirely entranced, as he finally enters. You're well prepped enough that there's no burn, just sweet sweet satisfaction. His head rested in the crook of your neck, peppering small kisses along the vein as he stayed still before slowly pulling back out. His hands wrap your thighs around his waist before he starts moving rhythmically. Each movement is harsher, faster than the last. Each thrust has both of you groaning at the sensation. You can feel him everywhere, so utterly full as he prods away at the right spot that has nerves on fire.    "God, you're so fucking tight. And wet, holy shit. Can I...can I feed from you?" You can't help but moan at his words again. He looks so perfect, almost like a sculpture has come to life. The sweat is making his hair cling to his face, casting a glow to his tan skin. "You have to say yes, I'm not taking a moan for an answer."    "Yes, please Tae." At the green light, he nuzzled back into your neck, his tongue snaking along the pulsing vein before his fangs sunk in. There's something about the mix of pain and pleasure that almost feels like a high each time. Sinful, dirty, perfect. And it has you tumbling into another orgasm around him. Clenching, moaning, milking Tae to finally come to his own. His tongue laps up the last of the blood, seeling away the bite as his hips begin to rut sloppily through his own completion. He stays lodged inside as he starts to soften and presses a few soft kisses on your lips. You feel not just satisfied, but somewhere into a place of warm and fuzzy bliss.    "You know, it was worth the wait." He sighs at the sound of his phone going off and grimaces as he finally pulls out to look at his phone. "I have to leave now so I won't be late to practice. Can I...come back over tomorrow? I don't have the day off, but I do have a break in the afternoon."    "Of course, just text me when you're on your way over. Don't push yourself too hard."    Tae gives a boxy grin as he pulls on his clothes before weaving his fingers into your hair and pulling you into a heated kiss. "As much as I love seeing you naked, you should probably put on some clothes so you don't catch a cold. I'll see you tomorrow, my queen."    You watch him leave silently, a smile plastered to your face. You certainly weren't expecting for this to happen when you took on the job. You weren't expecting these blossoming feelings of love to take over when you started to first tease Tae. But the world works in mysterious ways, and you couldn't be happier with the results.

[moonlight-dragon]

FAKE RELATIONSHIP AU (Allurance)

“I just think Lance and Allura are the cutest!” Romelle clapped, smiling brightly to the couple sitting before her. “I never thought pointy chin would master the courage to ask her out!”

Allura’s cheeks flush, her eyes traveling to the boy next to her. Lance looks at her, smiling as he holds her hand in his, giving her a reassuring squeeze. Part of the operation “keep Lotor away from Allura by pretending to be her boyfriend” as Lance had called it. It was not as if she couldn’t do that herself, put Lotor at her reach and she would send him flying, but not now. It still hurt, and she wasn’t sure she could face him without regretting whatever could come after it.

And that was when Lance, sweet-caring Lance had offered to be her fake-boyfriend. At first, she had laughed, punching her best friend lightly in the arm for such silly suggestion. But when he faced her there was nothing but seriousness in his eyes.

*

“This will keep him away from you ‘Lura” he had took her hand between his, his browns furrowed, his voice in a serious tone that was the complete opposite to the lover-boy Lance persona he displayed so often. If only people knew the incredible selfless person he was… “You would be off limits, he is clever enough to not mess with a girl with boyfriend.”

“…Besides I’d get to live my dream. Having gorgeous, strong and amazing Allura as my fake-girlfriend? WOW.”

Allura punched him harder that time, unbelievably happy that lover-boy Lance was back. Thought not for long. Mischief shone in his eyes, making her try to escape to fail miserably at repelling his tickle attack.

*

Spending time together was part of their routine, so they didn’t need to do anything special except being touchier… which Allura found herself realizing that it was already there. It was not as if they did it on purpose, they simply were drawn to each other.

A loose arm around her shoulders every now and then, her head buried against his chest when they escaped a crowded party, overacted hugs with bonus spins whenever he was happy, or she was happy, or they simply felt like doing something extreme… And the thing was that it all felt good, sometimes more than she dared to admit.

Allura couldn’t exactly point out when Lance had passed from being an annoying flirt to the person she trusted the most in the world, her confidant, her best friend. Because stars knew how insufferable he was when they had met -all bravado, cheesy pick up lines and forced smiles that had made her roll her eyes more times than she could remember-. But under all that, well, Allura had found a sweet little boy from Cuba who had done nothing but allow her to see that she was worthy, despite all her mistakes and flaws.

*

-You have greatness within you Lance, I hope you can see it… -she had said in one of their “fake dates” in her room, Netflix and chill, but without the further connotations. Still she found herself hugging his body under the blankets, too distracted by the sound of his heart to care about whatever the film was about. When she had said that phrase, the silence after it made her look up to see her “fake boyfriend” soundly asleep. She had smiled, stars knew why, putting away the laptop and staring at his face, brushing some locks out of it while thinking how long eyelashes he had. He was beautiful. Her cheeks felt warm, but she was too mesmerized to actually realize, putting her whole attention in the way his whole face simply glowed.

That fake relationship, keeping it as platonic as possible, she was sure failing miserably on that. Those hugs, those touches, the way she giggled like a teenager whenever he said something funny… Yes, Allura, way to go, you sure are doing a great job. But the thing is that she didn’t want to do a good job. She craved his lips on her skin, the gazes of pure devotion he gifted her, the way his sole presence made her feel invincible… she wanted all of that to be real. But, did he?

He had always been there when she needed him, even when Lotor was part of her life, she always found herself running to Lance whenever she felt like crying her heart out or cursing the world, or simply feel a warmth that reminded her of home. And he had always been there, with his arms open, listening and making her feel better with the words that escaped his lips… 

She wanted to be selfish and believe herself worthy of his love, that all the lover-boy-Lance’s cheesy pick-up lines still were meant for her.

-Hey Lance, is it too late to accept you travelling across the galaxies to find me?- she whispered, leaning closer to lightly touch his forehead with her lips, hoping her eyes were shinning at least with half of the devotion she always found in those blue gems of his.

*

Lance had arrived at her room one afternoon, saying he had a surprise, to which Allura couldn’t help but smile. He started talking about the mice and saying they needed a bath and her eyes started shinning as she imagined them in the bathroom playing more than actually giving a bath to her pets. But they liked Lance so sure they would forgive her for using them for expending more time with him. She was ready to drag him to the bathroom when two figures appeared behind him. Romelle and Pidge crushed her in a hug, barely giving Allura time to process the situation. When she became aware she turned to Lance, who already had his hands up in surrender and a apologizing smile that was going to be the death of her.

-You haven’t hang out with them in weeks ‘Lura, they were worried- he simply said, stepping closer to her and giving her a peck in the cheek. -Go, have fun. Me and the mice can handle a couple of hours alone.

-Aggggg, please, spare the public displays of affection Lance- Pidge muttered with fake annoyance, turning to Allura with a big smile in her face. -Okay, go pick up your things, we gotta go!

-Already on it! – Romelle appeared with her purse in her hands, Lance handling her a white coat he said looked gorgeous on her. Her “fake boyfriend” had a better fashion sense than her… she wasn’t going to let that get into her, she wasn’t!

Her friends dragged her out of her bedroom, Lance waving her goodbye while Romelle giggled and muttered something about pointy chin being a good partner in crime. Allura snuffled, allowing a smile to form in her face. It was true that after the Lotor thing she had barely got out of her room -except for going to class- and Lance was almost her only contact with the outside world, apart from Shiro, whose presence always made her feel calm, not for coincidence he was the gang’s “dad”… his premature fluff of white hair not helping at all. She hadn’t neglected her other friends on purpose, but she didn’t have the energy to face them, simply that. But she was going to change that today. They met the Garrison girls in the mall, Romelle chattering about Lance’s suggestion of buying something sparkly. Something sparkly was their thing, she wanted to buy it with HIM! Still she had fun,  so the punch her “fake boyfriend”/best friend had deserved at the beginning of the afternoon was turning into a check peek if she felt bold enough. She headed back home a little earlier than the others, saying Lance had been left alone with the mice and she was worried to find a pool instead of a bedroom when she went back.

His voice greeted her in the hallway. Because when he sang, it was for the whole world to listen. She opened the door in complete silence, ready to give him a hug attack from the back when his song stopped, whispers being now the melody escaping from his lips.

-I’m being a complete jerk here… I mean, when on Earth did I thought this was a good idea?! I stepped back when she was going out with Lotor, I decided it was okay, that just being his friend was enough… But I can’t, I can’t touch her and not want to be with her, forever, for as long as she wants me… “Fake boyfriend”? I don’t want us to be fake, fuck, I want to be her boyfriend, her real boyfriend! I love her, I love Allura so much it hurts. She makes me want to be a better person, I feel better when I’m with her… I just, I just… want her to feel better… with me?

-Sorry guys, so much drama… hahahaha, but hey, can’t expect anything else from Lover-Boy-Lance, right? Now let’s leave you guys as clean as ever!

Allura stepped back, picking her things and closing the door behind her. When she felt far enough from her bedroom she started crying, and laughing, and screaming with her head buried in her hands. He loved her. He was still in love with her and wanted to be with her as much as she wanted to be with him.

God Lance you were so dumb. God Allura you were so dumb too.

But that was going to change.

*

-Do you guys even kiss? - Keith’s question made Lance choke, as well as make everyone around him groan and face palm, specially Pidge, who lightly punched him in the arm. -What?!

-Whoa Keith, who knew you were the bold type? -Lance laughed, trying to change the subject. He was mentally trying to come up with something, but Allura’s face buried on his shoulder was not helping… wait, was she crying? He touched her check, finding no trace of tears on it so then, she was laughing? -We do kiss, healthy and in love couple thing, but in private, where we don’t have to watch all your disgusted faces.

-I wouldn’t make a disgusted face… If you kept it casual.

-I would find it super cute guys, you are couple goals!- Hunk was blushing and grinning and he soon found Romelle joining him in making kissing sounds.

-Hey, enough with the bad kissing sound effects… Tough it would be cute all to be said.-Shiro, you weren’t helping!

-Guys, c’mon! ‘Lura say som….

Allura’s lips cut him off mid-sentence, pressing against his own. His eyes widened for a moment before sliding shut. He could feel Allura’s arm around his neck, pulling him closer as the hand we was holding invited him to cup her check. Which he did, feeling the warm of her chocolate skin as their kiss deepened. Only after they both run out of air they pull away, followed by cheers and groans of unbelief. Not that they were paying attention, they were simply too focused in each other’s eyes.

*

“So, that kiss…”

“Yes?”

“We are… a thing?”

“I think so, yes.”

“Cool”

“Hey Allura��

“Yes Lance”

“Can I… can I kiss you again?”

Allura smiled, nodding as she felt his lips crash into hers, her feet leaving the floor as her no-longer-fake-boyfriend held her in his arms

Allurance fic that had been lying around my folders for so long. Finally finished! Sorry for any grammar mistakes, hope they’re not too bad…

@makesitprecious was an amazing proofreader and honestly, her email-reaction was the cuttest thing ever. THANK YOU SO MUCH!

Hope you like it and really, if anyone has any hc, au or something like that for me to write, please send it to me. It’s always nice to have inspiration.

Picture credit: http://cherryandsisters.tumblr.com/post/165446045809/they-love-each-other-and-i-love-them